Honest opinions here lads.

[Sherper]

I've recently submitted a Bio for Jarel Ahan. A 17 year old poacher that will eventually stumble his way into the band.

 

Me being the impatient nit-wit that I am, I've already started writing my introduction into the band. (Subscribing the help of BB and friends apparently xD)

 

But I would like some honest opinions on what I could improve upon in my writing, this being my first RP experience and all, it would be nice to get a few pointers from some RP veterans.

Which parts have I done alright in, which bits I should improve on in general, which bits should be avoided in the RP context etc. etc...

 

Keep in mind, I've barely edited this thing so, obvious grammar mistakes are obvious.

 

Here is the thing:

 

Absent mindedly twiddling the stick he held in his hand, Jarel eyed the soft patch of ground he was kneeling beside. Yesterday’s rain had turned the forest floor into a mushy layer of mud, leaving behind the foot prints of forestland creatures. There, he could see distinctly the paw prints of a hare, possibly heading south about an hour ago. He could determine the size of the animal or more specifically ‘their weight’, by the depth of the holes they left in the soft mushy ground. He could also tell the different species just from the size of the imprint and the different gauges in the animal’s stride. The more he knew about his prey, the higher chance he would have to subdue it. Yet he was not foolish to overstep his limits; he was a man of the forest after all and there are certain rules he had to obey. Careless Hunters are also careless prey.

 

With dark jet black hair, the skinny teenager from Tear looked for all the world like just another piece of shrubbery standing still. Sure, the effect was somewhat ruined by the span and a half hunting bow swung around his brown woollen cloak along with a quiver bristling with handmade arrows but it was sufficient camouflage; fooling unsuspecting animals and on occasion - man hunters. Jeral Ahan was a poacher, simple as that. Though he never could figure out why that title had to have such a negative connotation to it. He did a job just like any other man, only his line of work usually ends in standing on some country lord’s nose. To Jeral, all nobles were the same; rich, spoilt and a trifle more than ignorant to the comings and goings of their land. But they all had one thing in common: They hated people stealing from their forests.    

 

He made himself spit on the ground and get rid of the bitter after taste building in his mouth. First off, it wasn’t strictly their forest - not really. And secondly, it wasn’t like his activities were hurting anybody. Forests didn’t change around people – people changed around forests. What’s planted here today will probably still be here eighty years from now, and the certainty of that fact was almost as guaranteed as to say the wheel would keep turning.  He chewed his lips as he thought, fingers running gently across the squishy bed of mud and quagmire.Yes, mud really made tracking to be a much simpler task.

 

He smiled at that, a slight softening of his unclean face. Coming to the Two Rivers had been a fine idea, despite there being a lack of interest from the local merchant for the furs he bought, this secluded part of Andor offered more than enough for him to eat and sleep on. Straightening from his stoop, he cast away the small tree branch as he propelled himself to stand. If it hadn’t been for the light grey rain clouds overheard, he would’ve probably judged the sun to be just past noon - still plenty of time for him to do something with his day. His eyes caught the edge of a set of foot prints that stood to odds with the rest. Boot marks, he recognised it without even having to bend down as he had with the others.  The smooth imprint of the shoe sole was plain on the forest pattern; it looked to be similar to the ones he wore – soft soles made from fabric and tanned hides. It was popular with Andorian farmers and was comfortable footwear, especially on long distance journeys.  What was odd was how fresh the print had looked.

 

His ears pricked suddenly, as a six senses told him something was amiss; as if something or someone was watching him. Making very slow and deliberate movements, he carefully un-swung the hunting bow from his shoulders and had already selected three arrows from the side quiver by the time he had taken a defensive stance with his feet. Bandits? Unlikely, few bothered venturing this deep into a forest and it was unlikely they were coming for him.  But If not Bandits, then what? Perhaps it was a wild boar, a particularly rowdy Tomcat or even... A bear. Jarel gulped considerably, steeling himself before he lost hold on his concentration.

 

A sudden rustling of branches behind and directly on top of him, made him spring into action. Eyes wide with shock, he raised his bow and had fletching to mouth in the space of a heartbeat. Without hesitating a moment, he released the tension on the bowstrings and felt the familiar *thump* of wood as the arrow left his grip, spinning towards its target...

 

(Then BB and friends will come tackle and beat the crap out of Jeral or something :P
I think I’ll leave that up to her when the time comes. But yeah, opinions; advice, scolding, shoot ‘em this way.)

Edited September 8, 2013 by Sherper

[The Bard Babe]

*cackles maniacally*

[Arinth]

I don't have anything to complain about. I am pretty laid back. If you can put together complete sentences that I can follow I'm usually fine. This looks good to me.