Disclaimer: I am by no means a good writer and since this is mainly me writing whatever springs to mind, the story might seem not liniar, well told or even correctly spelled at all.
HOWEVER, I would greatly appreciate any advice anyone might have. (Constructive critisism only please)
I
“No time t’ lose Young Latharn” He said on the usual pleasant tone.
I didn’t find the fact I had to hurry myself to some festivity all too pleasant but Rashiid’s tone was, as Always. One glance at the little spots of skin which weren’t covered by the sandy, white robes showed how piercing the sun had been the last few days and how it was far too warm to rush through the never ending field of dust and sand which lay before us.
It was red, red like the costume my father wore before he disappeared a couple of weeks ago and red like the blood I’d spill if he ever came back.
Rashiid approached me then with the broad smile which almost always shone on his furry face. He wasn’t bearded or anything, or perhaps he was under the thick layer of fur which covered the entirety of his body.
He was of Caparii-kin, Goat people as the people up north call them. You know, the goats which learned to speak and walk upon their hind legs one day and never stopped doing so since. This particular one had fur which resembled the snow of the mountain he came from and was particularly large and strong, even for Caparii standards.
“What are y’ pondering about now lass?” He started.
“Nothing” The words lingered in my mouth long enough for him to know I was lying.
“He’ll be back y’ know”
“I’d rather he not. I’d rather he just stayed wherever he ran off too this time”
The friendly giant of a man sighed, picked me up and brought me to one of the camels.
“If y’ gonn sulk anyway, y’ might ‘s well do it here”
I didn’t complain, I was too busy sulking about the loss of both of my parents and the fact I’d never be able to go home now.
Despite me considering Rashiid and the others from the caravan family, I still missed the sound of waterfalls crashing into the lake by the city of Twilight Falls.
The city is, or rather was the capitol of the once proud and noble house of Azerwind, the house of which my father is the Lord and to which I am the heir.
The fact that we once were, and no longer are such a proud house is the reason I ended up with this caravan, and the reason I have to call myself Dawn Latharn rather than Dawn Azerwind.
Father said we were still being sought by the people who caused our downfall and therefore had to choose another name.
I still find it curious he chose Latharn, it being the name of the family of mercenaries which caused us so much trouble back in the day.
That no longer mattered though, as while I sulked upon the back of one of the few camels which the caravan still owned, a small but very crowded village appeared in the distance. The bonfire already licked upon the statue of a once mighty queen, now mockingly named “Grief” and most of the people were already too drunk to have proper conversation with. So, as there was little better to do, I approached the bonfire and sat on one of the few logs beside it.
Everyone around me was having a fantastic time while I wondered what I had done to deserve such a outlandish fate. My thoughts were so deep I didn’t even notice a group of sweating armoured men until they were stood right in front of me, calling out which was written upon the scroll they brought.
“Exiles from the Desert!” He called out.
“News has been brought to us of stirrings in the most southern part of our lands!
Anyone who can tell us anything of use about the nature and size of this threat is to travel north to Port Silver and will be rewarded pardon for whichever crime they committed.
If the information brought to us is false however, you will be persecuted and executed.
Signed,
The Silver council to the King of the Northern Kingdoms”
HOWEVER, I would greatly appreciate any advice anyone might have. (Constructive critisism only please)
I
“No time t’ lose Young Latharn” He said on the usual pleasant tone.
I didn’t find the fact I had to hurry myself to some festivity all too pleasant but Rashiid’s tone was, as Always. One glance at the little spots of skin which weren’t covered by the sandy, white robes showed how piercing the sun had been the last few days and how it was far too warm to rush through the never ending field of dust and sand which lay before us.
It was red, red like the costume my father wore before he disappeared a couple of weeks ago and red like the blood I’d spill if he ever came back.
Rashiid approached me then with the broad smile which almost always shone on his furry face. He wasn’t bearded or anything, or perhaps he was under the thick layer of fur which covered the entirety of his body.
He was of Caparii-kin, Goat people as the people up north call them. You know, the goats which learned to speak and walk upon their hind legs one day and never stopped doing so since. This particular one had fur which resembled the snow of the mountain he came from and was particularly large and strong, even for Caparii standards.
“What are y’ pondering about now lass?” He started.
“Nothing” The words lingered in my mouth long enough for him to know I was lying.
“He’ll be back y’ know”
“I’d rather he not. I’d rather he just stayed wherever he ran off too this time”
The friendly giant of a man sighed, picked me up and brought me to one of the camels.
“If y’ gonn sulk anyway, y’ might ‘s well do it here”
I didn’t complain, I was too busy sulking about the loss of both of my parents and the fact I’d never be able to go home now.
Despite me considering Rashiid and the others from the caravan family, I still missed the sound of waterfalls crashing into the lake by the city of Twilight Falls.
The city is, or rather was the capitol of the once proud and noble house of Azerwind, the house of which my father is the Lord and to which I am the heir.
The fact that we once were, and no longer are such a proud house is the reason I ended up with this caravan, and the reason I have to call myself Dawn Latharn rather than Dawn Azerwind.
Father said we were still being sought by the people who caused our downfall and therefore had to choose another name.
I still find it curious he chose Latharn, it being the name of the family of mercenaries which caused us so much trouble back in the day.
That no longer mattered though, as while I sulked upon the back of one of the few camels which the caravan still owned, a small but very crowded village appeared in the distance. The bonfire already licked upon the statue of a once mighty queen, now mockingly named “Grief” and most of the people were already too drunk to have proper conversation with. So, as there was little better to do, I approached the bonfire and sat on one of the few logs beside it.
Everyone around me was having a fantastic time while I wondered what I had done to deserve such a outlandish fate. My thoughts were so deep I didn’t even notice a group of sweating armoured men until they were stood right in front of me, calling out which was written upon the scroll they brought.
“Exiles from the Desert!” He called out.
“News has been brought to us of stirrings in the most southern part of our lands!
Anyone who can tell us anything of use about the nature and size of this threat is to travel north to Port Silver and will be rewarded pardon for whichever crime they committed.
If the information brought to us is false however, you will be persecuted and executed.
Signed,
The Silver council to the King of the Northern Kingdoms”
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