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So, I started this story a few years ago, reread it, cringed, and rewrote it. I'd like to get some feedback about it. Here's the prologue. I might make a sign-up for more characters.



The Exiled

Beatrix/ Carmen

The guards flank me, their steel, iron and silver armor chinking with each step they take, and also causing them to look like knights from the old days. I walk slowly, and I can sense their irritation at the slowness of my pace. “Pick up the pace, Blisters!” Once shouts at me, putting his left hand on my left cheek, and causing a searing pain to echo throughout my body from the touch. I want to scream out in pain, but I grit my teeth, pull his hand off my cheek, causing my hand to experience the same pain, and continue on at my slow pace.

“Fellas, we have all the time in the world. One way or another, I’m ending up there. No need to rush.” I singsong, and one of them snorts.

“Oh, but there’s plenty of reasons to get this over with, paleface. The sooner this is over with, the sooner we get paid, and the sooner we can go home.” He replies, and I shrug.

“Suit yourself.” They pause for a moment, and I narrowly avoid bumping into the one in front of me. The one who shouted at me pulls out a pair of handcuffs, and another forces my hands out as he puts them on. The pain starts instantly, but I just suffer through it silently, continuing to move slowly. The Exile Woods finally come into sight, and the men grow much crueler, kicking, whipping, and touching me with as much of their armor as they possibly can, partially an effort to get me to move faster, and partially just more punishment to me. As we reach the edge, the leader of the group forces an iron key into my left hand, burning me, then unceremoniously pushes me into the woods, causing me to fall onto the ground. I blink in the twilight, and watch as a centaur trots over to me.

“Need some help?” He asks as I stumble up onto my feet, and I nod, holding the key out. He takes it, and soon my hands are free from the wretched cuffs.

“Thanks.” I say as I examine the burns that are now there, and are by far the worse. My skin is almost gone, and it is a fierce and angry red. I reach a hand towards the edge of the woods, and is met with a solid barrier, which is exactly what I expected. “I’m Beatrix, though I’ve also gone by Carmen on multiple occasions.” I hold out my hand, and he shakes it.

“Elliot. Nice to meet you, Beatrix. Welcome to a permanent life in the Exile Woods. I was forced here a few thousand years ago, in the first purges.” I nod, and with that, the two of us walk into the depths of the Exile Woods, chatting quietly.

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Nice. Could I have a character?

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