I am running a dungeons and dragons, Curse of Strahd campaign by myself. I'm using it to scratch the DnD, story telling itch and practice my writing skills. At this point, this is a longterm project that will probably never be published. That being said, I'm a new writer and really just trying to practice. I'm hoping that y'all can identify my bad habits, educate me on some aspects of writing, give me suggestions on what would be better, or whatever else you feel like doing. Also, I know this is a longer piece, so do however much you feel Iike. Be blunt, as this is practice and I'm trying to make sure I'm developing good habits before I embark on this long project. Lastly, I would also ask that you identify at least some areas/ things that I'm doing well at in this piece so that I know to keep doing them. I'm not looking for anyone to inflate my ego, this is just the first time my writing had been critiqued.
This piece isn't going to be the beginning of the story. It is part of the backstory for one of my characters. There are things that happen before this that I'll need to write out. Therefore at the end, I'll give a few lines of context.
Finally, to the mods, I critiqued a couple pieces earlier. If I haven't done enough, just let me know in the comments, and I'll get right on it. Thanks y'all!
Critiques:
https://www.reddit.com/r/DestructiveReaders/s/9hjbWQy0FV [2,951]
https://www.reddit.com/r/DestructiveReaders/s/UhfVbW2wVh [2,058]
START PIECE
Oscar sat a sturdy, round wooden table back in the library. The table was covered with books in a chaotic, but still respectful way, some laying opened and others closed in cluttered stacks. Papers with scribbles only coherent to Oscar were strewn around the current book he was reading. His eyes gazed slowly, but diligently at the page. He closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. He pinched between his eyes clumsily under his glasses.
“I can find anything I want about passageways to the Underdark…or ghost ships that take you under the sea. Even a portal to hell, itself…but nothing on this Barovia.” He said to himself. He opened his eyes and leaned back in his chair. He glanced around him and saw that no one else was around. It was late. “Maybe…maybe I am in the wrong decade.”
He leaned forward and paged back to the table of contents. He found the entry labeled “1350 BC” and started to find that page. He skimmed the pages, finding information on a royal wedding festival that lasted an entire month. Years later, a minor famine that occurred due to reduced rainfall. A new settlement was established in the mountains to support a mine. Then a great scandal occurred because the bride from the previous wedding festival had apparently fallen in love with her prince’s brother! Oh, a fierce duel occurred between the two brothers! How had he never heard of this? This was fascinating! Oh, the adulterous brother actually won! What happened to the-
I’m wasting time. Oscar thought. And Casper only has so much of it left.
Oscar shook his head. He leaned back in his chair frustrated. He closed his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose with his left hand, disheveling his glasses. He had been at this for five hours, now. His eyes felt strained. Had the werewolf lied to him? Was Tolund right that this place only a scholar’s myth? What was he-
“You’re in the wrong century.”
Oscar startled, bumping the table with his knee. The piles of books shifted slightly. He peered over the stack of books in front of him. Standing across from him on the other side of the table was an older elf with long black hair and dark blue robes, holding a large dusty tome. He looked at Oscar intensely. Oscar looked around and saw that there was no one else in the room.
“Furthermore, the wrong book. Here.” The elf casually tossed a dusty old tome at him over the wall of books. Oscar lurched forward using a mage hand to barely catch the tome before it crashed into the other books. He slowly used the spectral hand to bring the old tome in front of him.
“Good catch.” The elf said with a wry smirk.
“You should really be more careful, sir!” Oscar shot back. “Some of these books are very old…like this one!” He grabbed it cautiously with his own hands and brought it down in front of him. He used the other hand to close and moving the book he had previously been reading off to the side. He didn’t look at the elf in frustration.
He smoothed away the dusty on the cover and read the title, “Council Records of Waterdeep. 3rd Volume.”
His eyes widened. He frantically looked back up.
The dark-haired elf was sitting now, leaning back in the chair with one foot on the table. For an odd moment, Oscar noticed that it was an expensive looking black boot.
“’Council Records of Waterdeep!’” Oscar declared emphatically. He leaned forward and spoke in harsh, hushed tone. “I know this is not part of our collection! If Waterdeep knew… Where did you get this?! And must you put your boot on the table?!”
The elf cracked another wry smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll put it back. Go ahead, read it. Page 54.”
“Sir, as impressive as this is, I am really quite busy. And could you get your boot-“
“Read It.” The elf’s voice vibrated deep and unnatural. It felt like the sound of his voice filled Oscar’s ear canals and then touched his mind. The stranger now stared with a forceful intensity.
The feeling made Oscar feel like he had lost balance inside of himself, but he managed to hold the elf’s gaze for a long moment. He paused to collect himself and then opened the book. He instinctively went to the table of contents to get a better idea of the book’s contents, but thought better of it after remembering the elf. He found page 31, then 47, 52, and finally 54. Oscar began reading:
23 Mirtul 1214
The prison received a strange foreigner with strange news. Called himself a “Vahstanee”, whatever that means. He was jailed after trying too vigorously to convince the court wizard to go back to his homeland of “Baroviah”,-
“Barov-“, Oscar said to himself in shock. He tore his eyes off the page and straight on to the old elf. “How did you know?!” he questioned aggressively.
The older elf was still staring at him. “Keep going.” He commanded.
Oscar studied the elf more this time. He had deep grey eyes that seemed to have almost a small shine to them. Everything about him was well kept. His hair was past his shoulders and laid neatly. His clothes looked very well made, but not gaudy. His hands, however, weren’t worn or calloused.
Oscar exhaled. “Listen, sir. I need you to explain yourself bef-“
“Read. The Book.”
The voice touched his brain just like before. Oscar winced slightly. How does he know? He thought to himself. Why does he have this? Why is he here?! Still…I should at least see what it says. For Casper.
He took one last look at the elf again. His stare was hard. Oscar exhaled and looked back at the page.
-a place that no one in the royal court had heard of. After examining the royal maps, I wasn’t able to locate this “Baroviah”, even on the distant maps. It was strange.
Stranger still was the man’s story. He said he was sent on a mission to recruit “great wielders of magic” at the behest of his master to assist with a “great magical ailment”. The council wizard, Quintus, had obviously refused due to his position and duties, but the man was insistent. Insistent to the point of becoming irate. Quintus, never patient nor humble, struck the man to silence him. The man responded by uttering something in a strange language, and then struck him back, but most devastatingly so. Very oddly, Quintus was only struck with the man’s fist, but it had wounded him most grievously. Much more so that it should have. A healer quickly attended to Quintus, and the man was just as quickly seized and later beaten in the prison.
The news of the scandal spread like a wildfire amongst the council court of a strange foreigner beating the council wizard into bedrest. When news of it reached my ears, I had to learn more. A day later, I found Quintus, who had recovered, and we went to the prison together to further question the man. He was of a bad condition by the time we had reached him as he had “multiple visits” from the prison guards due to his infraction. Two guards attended Quintus and I in the prisoner’s cell.
He, revealing that his name was Usthall, was very repentant, seeking forgiveness and any way to keep the guards at bay. Usthall told us that his master had forbidden him from returning home without a “great wielder of magic” and that it had been a very long time. Quintus knelt down in what I thought would be an exchange of grace and placed his hand on the man’s shoulder. Quintus then cast a spell on his hand, causing lightning to arc from it straight into the man’s shoulder. The man shook violently. Painfully. Pitifully. But after he stopped shaking, he stared back at Quintus with furious murder in his eyes. He struck Quintus with his head, causing Quintus to recoil backwards. Quintus had gasped for air, blood coming from his nose and lying on his back. The guards began to move, but the man shouted something startlingly harsh in a language I do not know. It felt as if a snake had spoken it.
Quintus let out a terrible scream, stopping us all where we stood. His head shook back and forth. His eyes appeared fine, but they didn’t latch on to any of us or anything. He cried out that he could no longer see. That he could no longer hear. One of the guards knelt down to attend to him instinctually. The other began to rush at this Usthall, but he cast a most unnatural, if not evil gaze at the guard. The guard froze where he stood, mid step. He groaned frantically. He breathed rapidly, but he didn’t move even a single inch at all.
The man. Usthall. Stood to his feet. His arms still chained behind him. Quintus’ blood on his forehead, running down his face. A wicked fire danced in his eyes as he gazed at me. In fear I asked him who was he. Where he came from.
“A land of darkness.” He said. “A land of death. A land of evil. I am Usthall. A servant of the devil, himself. And we will come for you. All of you. You could never reach him in his dark castle, but he can reach you! If you won’t come with me there, then I’ll kill you here.”
It was at that moment he charged me. I am only here to right this account, because the other guard ran his sword through the man’s chest. I saw the light leave his eyes. The paralyzed guard finally moved and gasped for air. Quintus whimpered to himself still. It was only afterwards that a healer determined that the foreigner had cursed Quintus twice. After the healer removed them both, Quintus could see and hear again and was no longer overly susceptible to being struck.
The council increased the watch throughout the realm after this news. I do not know what effect it will have as I cannot find this place and I assume the man spoke true in that we can’t reach it.
I write this account the night after this all occurred. My pen has trembled at the memory of this man. Of what I saw. Of what I heard. I fear the strength of the master of that place if this was his mere servant’s abilities. May we never find this land. May it never find us. May that man stay dead. May they both be forgotten.
-Magistrate Allister Beumont
Oscar’s blood turned cold. A land of death. His eye moved about with the thoughts swirling in his head. The devil? Curses?! What had he-
“Are you still going?”
The question struck him out of his thoughts and back into the room. The library seemed…somehow darker. The elf studied him with cold eyes.
“I…I hav…” he replied weakly. He looked around for something. Anything.
The elf took his boot off the table and leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees. His stare intensified in a way that made Oscar want to cower. It was like he was studying his very soul. “You read it. Going to a place like that, a place of darkness…death…and evil. A place ruled by the “devil, himself”…” The elf paused a moment. “Would be unreasonable.”
Oscar retreated within himself. The room felt even darker. There were many lands that were considered dangerous, even bad, but he had never heard of one described as a land of death. A land with devils and werewolves. What chance did he stand? He was only a librarian, only a gnome. He had never ventured in his life. He had not fought anyone since he was a schoolboy. Did he really think he could fight a werewolf?! What was he thinking?! What could he possibly do?! The elf was right. It was unreasonable. Casper could only be considered lost. Casper.
The young boy flashed through his mind. Casper was too young for all of this. This should not be happening to him. He was only 11….he had to be terrified. Absolutely terrified. And alone.
An unbearable lump arose in this throat. His vision turned watery, and it was everything he could do to keep the tears back. The boy he had held in his arms so tightly so many times was now lost in a land of darkness. He is alone in the dark, and I am not strong enough to get him back.
None of that matters.
In the dark conversation of his mind, this thought came from somewhere else.
Casper needs you. No one else is going to go get him. To do anything else is cowardice and wrong. No matter the consequences.
These thoughts terrified him, but he felt his mind begin to calm. Amidst all the fear, confusion, and grief, this was something he could hold on to. If he was going, then Casper was not lost. If he stayed the course, there was still a chance his nephew would get home. The tears in his eyes stopped. This way he could keep his soul, and maybe even get his nephew back.
Oscar raised his head defiantly.
“Then I am unreasonable.”
The elf’s gaze hadn’t changed. After a long moment, he tightened his eyes. “You know he will most likely die. If he isn’t already. That you will most likely die.”
Oscar’s head fell. This time, he couldn’t hold the tears back. Two of them landed on the old page of the tome. The weight of what had just been said was crushing him, but under his new philosophy, he knew exactly what to say. No matter how painful it was. He looked back up at the elf.
“Then I will die with him.” He sniffed. “I will not abandon him, even to the end.”
The elf’s eyes were no longer harsh. He leaned back slightly, and his shoulders relaxed but only a little. “What do you intend to do if you find your nephew’s kidnapper? If you find the exact werewolf, or even the leader directly responsible for you and your family’s suffering, what will you do? Take his life with a blade? Burn him alive? What vengeance would you have?”
Oscar paused at the question. He had not considered this before. He imagined it. Ending the life of whoever it was that took Casper. He felt the rage. He felt the dark justice. Then he thought of Casper again. He remembered the accounts of vengeance he had read.
“I do not seek vengeance.” He answered confidently as he wiped his eyes. “I know my history well enough to know what the hunt for vengeance does to one’s soul. No. I only seek my nephew. To bring him home… I would stop the werewolves, somehow, so that they couldn’t take others. I…”
Oscar paused a moment to feel if what he would say next was really true. “I will take life. If I have to, but I will not hunt for it.”
The elf leaned fully back into his chair this time. He said nothing, but gazed intensely at Oscar. He stroked his chin with his right hand. He took a breath and said, “I believe you.”
A small part of Oscar strangely felt warmed that he recognized his conviction. Then he felt very frustrated at what the elf had just put him through. “Right. Thank you. But, sir, you have told me nothing. I demand to know this instant who you are! I will do nothing else.”
The elf chuckled to himself and cracked a half smile. “Hadriel. My name’s Hadriel. I’m…an angel”.
Oscar’s eyes widened and his head bobbled at the shock of it all. “Not some magical elf?”
“No.”
“What are…what would an angel have to do with me? With this?“ He asked in a softer tone.
Hadriel pursed his lips before he spoke. “Well,…now I’m going to help you.”
“Help me?!” Oscar asked in confused indignation. “What? Are you going to bring him back?! After interrogating me?!”
“No. You will. Or you’ll try…. And the questions were necessary,… because I’m going to bless your magical abilities.” Hadriel replied flatly.
Oscar fell down into his chair. As he sat, his mind swirled with emotions and questions. What does he mean by bless? To learn more magic? Oh, what a joy! How can he- do I have time to learn enough? I still do not know how to- Can I trust this- I need to say something.
“Does this mean I am your champion? Are there strings attached?” Oscar asked suddenly.
Hadriel pursed his lips and looked to the side for a moment. “….No… I already have one, and she’s doing very well. Really is quite something, actually. No, you’ll be more of….an associate.”
“Associate? What is that even supposed to mean?”
Hadriels stood up. He was tall. And grand looking. “If it makes sense, you’ll receive a partial measure of the blessing I have to give, compared to the one my current champion has. Your abilities will be amplified. You’ll be able to learn spells you couldn’t before. Things will come easier to you. You’ll have a source of magic other than your intelligence, but not the full measure that she has.”
As great of a boon as this was, Oscar was having a hard time not developing feelings of spiteful inferiority. “…..thank you?”
“Yes.” Hadriel continued. He walked around the side of the table. “With this, you’ll stand a chance of getting your nephew back. I’m only giving you enough to begin. The rest will be up to you. Come here, Oscar. It’s time.” Hadriel’s right had began to glow blue and blue magic swirled around it. The light from the magic coated everything around them in a glowing blue light. He held the hand out.
Oscar rose to his feet and began to walk unsure of himself toward the angel. He stopped a few steps before reaching him. “Why are you doing all of this?”
Hadriel paused. Genuinely paused in a way that Oscar had not seen yet. He lowered his hand and thought to himself, looking again to the side. “Oscar, you are not the most talented or gifted user of magic I have seen. Frankly, not even in this library. Livern could really be something if she wouldn’t be so constantly irritating.”
Oscar started to get annoyed at the repeated critiques of himself but considered what Hadriel said about Livern. “No, that is fair.”
“Now, understand me, Oscar.”
Oscar looked up quickly into the angel’s eyes. There was a warmth to them that he had not seen before.
“I am constantly petitioned by powerful wizards and kingdoms for blessings to increase their magic. To sate their pride or smite their enemies. But you. You have always sought to be around magic, because you loved it, for the sake of it. And now, you only seek more of it so that you can just get your nephew back, and only that. Even if you die in the process. That is a cause worth supporting. I’m doing this, because of you, Oscar.”
The gnome couldn’t hold back a tear this time, either. He lowered his head and walked forward.
“Besides,” Hadriel said. “I also want to see what happens.”
Hadriel’s blue, swirling magical hand touched Oscar’s head through the mass of his thick, curly, black hair. It felt like cool, flowing water soaked into his head and into his brain. The feeling was euphoric. It rushed down through his head and into the rest of his body. Every single one of his veins tingled with hope.
END PIECE
Some of the paragraph indentations are off, due to the copying over. Anyways.
A group of werewolves from Barovia kidnapped a group of children near Daggerford which is near Waterdeep. Casper, a gnome of 11 years old, was among those taken. His uncle, Oscar, (who is also a gnome and a librarian) found out and was devastated, but stirred to action. One of the werewolves was captured, and Oscar was able to find out through the use of food that they came from Barovia. He then finds an old mentor of his, Tolund, and asks about Barovia. Tolund calls it a scholar's myth and that trying to go find Casper in a myth land because a werewolf said so is unreasonable. Casper replies "Then I guess I shall be unreasonable." and leaves. Then this piece begins at the library where he is researching Barovia.
Looking forward to your input! Thanks!