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(It's been a long time since I've wrote anything, but for some reason these new characters gave me an urge that I haven't had for a long time. So, I'm writing- not that great yet... to damn rusty. But me'h if you dont' like it don't read it. And if you don't like it after you read it- tell me how much it sucks and why, and I'll try to fix it next time. Oh, and atop of that I'm not a DnD fan, new to the franchise- so I don't know much about the races, classes, and lore and what not. Some "artistic license" was taken here. If you prefer pretend it isn't DnD at all- just regular fantasy flock)
"It'd been a long time since that night so long ago..."
A man stalked out through the wheat fields,; twilight still splayed over his head- painting the slow moving sunlight on the mountains at his back. Cold mountain air filled the small farming valley; casting a light frost over the crops. 'Odd, it shouldn't be this cold this early in the year...' Arag reasoned as he looked about. 'Something is not right.' Sitting down among the wheat, Arag rubbed his shaved scalp.
"What is going on?" The man queried aloud. Sighing; he pulled out some stale wheat biscuits from beneath his cloak and ate them quietly. "I've checked the mountains... nothing is up there..." Taking out his water skin, he let loose another sigh. "The ground is fine; I've already asked the local tree hugger..."
Arag continued rambling his thoughts onward like this for the next fifteen minutes. But it was all for vain; for what had caused this sudden cold was about to strike, and it was watching him.
High above the valley, hiding in the cliffs a figure awaited; garbed in black. The figure was small, crumpled, and the cloak it wore seemed to big for it. Obviously it didn't mind the cold- as it sat in a pool of snow. A blood red scrying glass sat in it's lap.
"So... the village is unprotected... Just a farming village. " The beast reasoned. "The only protection it has, is a militia full of boys- and that one man." It bent closer toward the scrying orb and chanted a few words.
The orbs surface wobbled- shook- and broke away like a cracked egg. Red fluid bathed the figure- dampening it's cloak. In the cracked remains of the glass orb sat a puddle of red liquid. It's surface shimmered and jumped as if it where alive.
Smiling the beast focused closer on the picture in the water. "Name's Arag Demor. Six feet, three inches in height. Bald, and has a nasty tattoo..." It laughed, and raised itself up- the orb reformed in it's hand. And without another sound it melted into the shadows.
Arag still sat down below in the valley below, still musing about the recent frost until he heard a noise. The grass was moving- yet no figure stood about him. Rubbing his eyes tiredly, "Must be exhaustion kicking in." Arag concluded. But, it was not.
In the wheat fields two silver eyes looked him over, eating in his every feature. At first it stared at his face; scared and cleanly shaven. The beast stared at the seemingly luminous blue tatoo that sat around Arag's eyes. It's gaze moved down his slumped figure- he was lean and tough; the body of a fighter. A silver sword lay strapped to the man's back- it's keen edge glimmered in the coming daylight.
Smiling, the beast departed to town.
~~~~~
The town of Barse was a simple town; a poor farming town if anything. At most, it numbered twenty closely packed houses and shops. The day was just beginning for the town; the baker layed out his first dozen of bread; the blacksmith started the fires in his shop; and the farmers departed to the fields. It was a quiet existence- but... that would not continue for much longer.
~~~~
((TBC- I know it ain't much, and it isn't like it should be. But me'h I'm rusty at this... -.-))
"It'd been a long time since that night so long ago..."
A man stalked out through the wheat fields,; twilight still splayed over his head- painting the slow moving sunlight on the mountains at his back. Cold mountain air filled the small farming valley; casting a light frost over the crops. 'Odd, it shouldn't be this cold this early in the year...' Arag reasoned as he looked about. 'Something is not right.' Sitting down among the wheat, Arag rubbed his shaved scalp.
"What is going on?" The man queried aloud. Sighing; he pulled out some stale wheat biscuits from beneath his cloak and ate them quietly. "I've checked the mountains... nothing is up there..." Taking out his water skin, he let loose another sigh. "The ground is fine; I've already asked the local tree hugger..."
Arag continued rambling his thoughts onward like this for the next fifteen minutes. But it was all for vain; for what had caused this sudden cold was about to strike, and it was watching him.
High above the valley, hiding in the cliffs a figure awaited; garbed in black. The figure was small, crumpled, and the cloak it wore seemed to big for it. Obviously it didn't mind the cold- as it sat in a pool of snow. A blood red scrying glass sat in it's lap.
"So... the village is unprotected... Just a farming village. " The beast reasoned. "The only protection it has, is a militia full of boys- and that one man." It bent closer toward the scrying orb and chanted a few words.
The orbs surface wobbled- shook- and broke away like a cracked egg. Red fluid bathed the figure- dampening it's cloak. In the cracked remains of the glass orb sat a puddle of red liquid. It's surface shimmered and jumped as if it where alive.
Smiling the beast focused closer on the picture in the water. "Name's Arag Demor. Six feet, three inches in height. Bald, and has a nasty tattoo..." It laughed, and raised itself up- the orb reformed in it's hand. And without another sound it melted into the shadows.
Arag still sat down below in the valley below, still musing about the recent frost until he heard a noise. The grass was moving- yet no figure stood about him. Rubbing his eyes tiredly, "Must be exhaustion kicking in." Arag concluded. But, it was not.
In the wheat fields two silver eyes looked him over, eating in his every feature. At first it stared at his face; scared and cleanly shaven. The beast stared at the seemingly luminous blue tatoo that sat around Arag's eyes. It's gaze moved down his slumped figure- he was lean and tough; the body of a fighter. A silver sword lay strapped to the man's back- it's keen edge glimmered in the coming daylight.
Smiling, the beast departed to town.
~~~~~
The town of Barse was a simple town; a poor farming town if anything. At most, it numbered twenty closely packed houses and shops. The day was just beginning for the town; the baker layed out his first dozen of bread; the blacksmith started the fires in his shop; and the farmers departed to the fields. It was a quiet existence- but... that would not continue for much longer.
~~~~
((TBC- I know it ain't much, and it isn't like it should be. But me'h I'm rusty at this... -.-))
