Writing - TVFT 548: Enter Sorian

I took a screenwriting class, focusing on character development. We were instructed to write scenes based on our characters, and since Rivek is much further along than his nemesis, I chose to flesh out Sorian. 

Because I normally work in prose, writing in screenplay format was incredibly difficult for me since it limits any kind of description!

If Mondigan were a movie, this would be his introductory scene.
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EXT. SNOWY FIELD - DAY

Two nations' armies fight on an ice-covered field.  One side, in white and gray, is accustomed to the weather and makes large, stalwart, movements, using wide swings to hack their foes apart.  Their opponents, in green and gold, slip on the rocks which poke from the snow but have greater finesse with their weapons.

SORIAN, a heavily-armored general, stands alone beside his horse on a cliff, overlooking the fray. He sports thick, fur-lined, white clothing with accents of gold that denote royal level of authority.  He also wears a horned helmet that covers his entire face with a menacing iron mask. Foggy breath escapes through the mouth grate, which is shaped into a carnivorous grin.

SORIAN watches the action, but both sides seem evenly matched.  He tightens the grip on his horse's reins.

The animal, also covered in gold armor, shuffles its thick, furry legs.

It tosses its head, and SORIAN disciplines it with a sharp tug.

SORIAN mounts the creature with professional ease and walks it calmly down the mountain.  He scans the ground and notices a trail of abnormally bright, red, blood.

SORIAN dismounts to follow it, still at a slow, deliberate pace.  The sound of battle fades away as he moves into a more secluded area.

ANDELL, the battered crown prince of the enemy kingdom, crouches amidst cast-off armor, bleeding from an exposed artery in his right arm.  He presses snow over the wound, trying to get it to close and forces a fearful laugh as SORIAN approaches.

ANDELL: You must be him - Sorian, War-Prince of the Icy North.

SORIAN nods, more warm breath escaping from his mask.

ANDELL (CONT'D): I was never into that.  Always preferred politics to beatings, myself.  It's what you get when you come from a family of doctors.  Royal doctors, especially.

SORIAN unsheathes his sword and motions for ANDELL to get up.

ANDELL squints in confusion.

SORIAN gestures again..

ANDELL struggles to stand by forcing his back against a tree.  He points to the badge SORIAN wears at his belt, a gold disc embossed with a roaring lion's head.

ANDELL (CONT'D): I hear they call you the "lion."  Must be nice to have a good, unique title like that.

SORIAN approaches.

ANDELL backs away instinctively.

SORIAN nudges ANDELL's dropped sword with his and nods.

ANDELL takes the sword in his good, but now shaking, left hand.

SORIAN rushes him.

ANDELL parries at the last second.

SORIAN lunges forward again and continues his constant offensive.  ANDELL only manages faulty, defensive maneuvers.

SORIAN severs ANDELL's leg with a brutal swing, and ANDELL falls onto his side.

ANDELL rolls onto his back to find SORIAN standing over him.

ANDELL: They also say you take no mercy.  Not even towards healers.  And especially not towards royalty.

SORIAN: In certain cases, perhaps, but I see no reason to pity those who cannot prove they are worthy of their assets. If you cannot perform the simple task of deflecting an infantry arrow to hold your father's land, it might as well belong to a better candidate.

SORIAN methodically hacks the howling ANDELL's limbs off with medical precision. He kneels and tears at his victim's clothing until he finds the royal signet ring, held on a chain around his neck.

SORIAN takes off his glove, kisses it, and slips it on his own finger.

SORIAN swiftly lops off ANDELL's head.