Flight of the Draknari

hey guys, this is a story in progress pertaining to a book of short horror stories i'm writing. It's kind of a lovecraftian tribute.
the reason i haven't sent the whole thing in is because:
a) it's not finished
b) i want to get some feedback on what it's like so far - out of all the stories i've done for the book - this one i'm a little iffy about. So any criticism is more than welcome and encouraged.

Flight of the Draknari
Written by Loki456

The desert plain on the southern continent of the lesser kingdom is oddly named. For the plains deity, Neeral, a god of the outer sanctum had seen it fit to bless the land with bountiful rain and skies of pure splendor. So a desert it was not, sand was sparse and the usual wandering traveler marveled at the perplexity of such a name. Three major cities graced this pristine land, Kaylar to the north, Silendefil to the South west which was the greatest of all the cities. Finally Draknar to the polar south.

Draknar is a city of enigma. No door or form of a bridge is evident, four walls and a garrison is all that is seen by the naked eye. Camp fires hear many a story of the buzzing sound that comes from within the walls of Drakanr late at night. Had it been that a Draknari was sighted in the past 1000 years, all speculations maybe laid to earthly rest. But as it was, Draknar was a city unlike any other, no visitor entered and no inhabitant left, having no door made this feat sure.

Like all stories this story has a beginning, a beginning in antiquity. As the continents were forming and the beasts of Kharnea began their evolutionary summons, the Draknari reminisced around their primordial wetland. For they were the oldest of the old, tales liken them to the ageless gods, and no one except the Draknari themselves knew of their age and origin. They were beasts of the earth, four hooves bolted with rock hurling strength and a body with a shell like exterior. Their heads were completely cartilaginous allowing for complete transformation if deemed necessary. As the ages past and society changed so did the Draknari, their city had been the grandest. Being as old as they were led them to revel in delight at their magnificent wisdom. Because of this, many Draknari found professions in the black arts and many from afar would seek their council.

As time progressed the desert plains had seen many feudal tyrants plan domination over this misnomer land on the southern continent. The latest of these was the feudal lord Romicon. His hand was said to be the puppet master behind the Shaman's of the western continents demise. He was a man dedicated to the art of war, blood was a price to be paid and many paid a heavy toll for resisting his rule. Draknar was such a city, the city of plight it had become to be known as.

It was common knowledge that Neeral loved the desert plains, when war ensued on the lush green fields, she would intervene with majestic power. Power was not taken at the edge of a sword, but granted, and it was granted by the hands of this benevolent outer god. The three cities had never seen a single ruler; they each governed their own totality and each made their sacrifices to Neeral. But with the third age, the age of the dreaming, it seemed that this land was in for a change.

Romicon was a Blythian by birth, their ice caped peaks on the far northern continent of Krimmholdt was also home to their war driven divinity. Such proximity to an unfathomable power had caused some to speculate that the Blythians were infact granted supra-physical powers. Romicon was no exception, like all before him, his four arms were muscular and double jointed, his humanoid face was endowed with features such as a wide nose with flaring nostrils. His eyes were whiter than the snow and showed no form of a pupil or iris, his hair gleamed with a silver gold and forced its way down to a mane that flowed over his back. He possessed a keen sense of hearing, as his eyes transmitted various sounds and pulsations via bony conduction to two slits on the side of his head. His skin was rough and covered by a fine fur, which was further coated in an oily lubricant. This made those cold winter nights bearable and provided an advantage in battle. When coming close to an opponent the film would allow for quick deflection of the onslaught of bodies.

This certainly has H P Lovecraft’s trademark Gothic touch – a reworking or extension of the Cthulhu legends presumably.

But it is top-heavy on background – although this will no doubt attract a certain readership I’m sure. I just felt that for a short story (admittedly still a work in progress) it actually doesn’t go anywhere. It describes in majestic detail the background in ancient lore behind these 3 cities provenances and the myths and legends behind their names, but we are no wiser regarding any forthcoming plot that we were on reading that opening line.

Speaking of which –

The desert plain [on the southern continent of the lesser kingdom] is oddly named.

So much geographical detail is of little help so early into the story – I would do away with the part in brackets.

There are also a couple of minor typos –

maybe laid – may be laid

and

As the ages past – As the ages passed

But other than that, for what it is intended to be it is well-written and sticks quite closely to the genre. That’s not to say this is good short story writing purely because it accurately copies Lovecraft’s style, because the popularity of his tales was based on more than just style.

Good luck with your collection!

H

Hey thanks H
- nah not a reworking of the cthulhu mythos - i intended to copy his style - because I actually really liked it, and is a style i'm quite comfortable writing in. I'm in the process of publishing a novel now, the genre being 'psychological thriller' - however, that being so time consuming i needed a reprieve.

- this is more of a style akin to his 'dreamcycle'

- and you are exactly right - i need to get rid of the line you put in brackets - thanks.

- the reason it feels a bit different is that i intended it to be that way - the book is to explain the lore behind kharnea - because like any good forethought i intend to write a novelette/novel based around some of the characters. thought it would be a good follow on.

- and thank you for the last comment - it points out that even though Lovecrafts style is unique - it is not his style that made it a popular genre. something I hope will come through in my short stories. I hope that my stories are not credited on their style and how closely it relates to Lovecrafts, but of the quality of the story. which brings me on to one of the first points you brought out - that we actually don't know much about the plot - which is ok, cause I haven't written it down yet.

- thanks again, much appreciated.

-

You're welcome.

Your comment 'we don't know much about the plot' is generally how I work - once I start on a story I have very little idea where the story line is heading. The characters do the driving and direction finding while I just take notes. It's such fun.

As for your 'psychological thriller' - that's much more up my street. Most of my own short stories tend to have a psychological basis, and I just love being a dark, devious character. As you probably noticed from some of my crits on here.

Best wishes, H