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Species Western Dragon
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Sword of Legends (by Vainilla_Latte)
YCH from the talented 
vainilla_latte
Despite the wear of ages, the stone obelisk still watched over the pristine altar beneath. And there, the ancient sword stood strong, its blade gleaming with a faint magical light in the fading sun. Looking at it now, after all his trials to reach the peak of the ruin, Arix thought it looked almost too normal, as though he could have taken any blacksmith’s work – particularly well-crafted, but available at any skilled smith’s workplace – and plunged it into the pedestal himself that very morning. He couldn’t help but wonder what might cause such a plain-looking, if immaculate, weapon to spawn such legends as he had heard.
But even despite the plainness of the sword, there was an air of majesty in its location. The silence was absolute; not so much as a faint whistling of wind throughout the ruin, or joyful birdsong, or even tumbling debris. Vines had crept their way around the remains of columns and statues, the walls reduced to mere shin-high stubs at best, with even the weeds now towering above them. A testament to the triumph of nature over the encroachment of civilization…except for the altar and the sword rising from it, both of which had manage to endure the passage of time with barely a wrinkle.
I was originally going to write a longer piece for this one, along the lines of Hero or Broken, but the more I worked on it, the more I realised I had the seeds for something much bigger. So instead I took the opportunity to practice a technique called "evocative telling". Difficult to do, since much of it relies on previous buildup, but eeeeeh that's what practice is for?
vainilla_latteDespite the wear of ages, the stone obelisk still watched over the pristine altar beneath. And there, the ancient sword stood strong, its blade gleaming with a faint magical light in the fading sun. Looking at it now, after all his trials to reach the peak of the ruin, Arix thought it looked almost too normal, as though he could have taken any blacksmith’s work – particularly well-crafted, but available at any skilled smith’s workplace – and plunged it into the pedestal himself that very morning. He couldn’t help but wonder what might cause such a plain-looking, if immaculate, weapon to spawn such legends as he had heard.
But even despite the plainness of the sword, there was an air of majesty in its location. The silence was absolute; not so much as a faint whistling of wind throughout the ruin, or joyful birdsong, or even tumbling debris. Vines had crept their way around the remains of columns and statues, the walls reduced to mere shin-high stubs at best, with even the weeds now towering above them. A testament to the triumph of nature over the encroachment of civilization…except for the altar and the sword rising from it, both of which had manage to endure the passage of time with barely a wrinkle.
I was originally going to write a longer piece for this one, along the lines of Hero or Broken, but the more I worked on it, the more I realised I had the seeds for something much bigger. So instead I took the opportunity to practice a technique called "evocative telling". Difficult to do, since much of it relies on previous buildup, but eeeeeh that's what practice is for?
Category All / Fantasy
Species Western Dragon
Size 1109 x 1280px
File Size 205.9 kB
Listed in Folders
I think you did well with prose and scene-setting. However, it almost seems to be slightly "off-center." The point of the scene is Arix drawing the sword. I am not saying to subtract but to add. If you returned again to that point, I believe it would fix where the center of the piece and your prose lies.
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