Hey /wri/.
For gits and shiggles I decided to write a little short story, about five pages or so. I'm sort of working on the story itself as I go, and since this is mainly meant for the sole purpose of entertaining myself and anyone who could be bothered to read it, I haven't given it much thought. The basic premise is of a man who is initially a high ranking officer in the military of what's basically a fictional Imperial Russia. He doesn't like the oppressive nature of the Czar's rule and the massive class divide between the wealthy boyars and starving serfs, rebels, gets exiled, etc.

Anyway. I have a few questions I have which I'd like advice on, if you good people would mind providing any.

First of all, what would be a good idea for introducing my character? I have some ideas but none of them seemed to set right, and some input would be cool. That's the only question I have about the story itself. My main concern about my writing itself would be that I feel like it's too wordy. I'm not sure though. Any other tips or criticisms would be more than welcome. So, here's a snippet of what I've written so far.

The clacking noise of jackboots on stone sounded through the halls, and a door swept open into the great chamber with the force of a gale. In stormed two figures, a third dragged behind. The light of the room revealed the nature of the entrants; two stern-faced, clean-shaven men, adorned in the red dress of the Streltsy, each brandishing a bardiche in one hand. In the other, both dragged across the floor a man of average stature and simple clothes, a look of determination borne on his face. The room was magnificent; gilded marble pillars ringing the chamber led way to a ceiling of intricate carvings and gold, from which hung huge, ornate chandeliers, illuminating the massive space with the glistening of crystal. The appearance and demeanor of the room, then, was sharply in contrast to the business which was to be conducted there. The two Strelets shoved the third man to his knees in front of a fantastically decorated throne, which sat in a prominent position at the far end of the room. Still on his knees, the man was pushed roughly towards the throne, and in a slow and deliberate movement, stood to face the seat of power. On it was a man of middle age, bearded and elaborately robed, who met his gaze sharply, and tipped his head slightly to the side. The sharp descent of a bardiche's end brought the man and a bruised rib quickly to his knees once again.