| Subject: Thanks!! Creating a world with background is always the hardest part for me. I'm glad you like it. I may not be able to post for a few days (camping trip) so here's a longer segment. Hope it holds you guys until I get back. INSIDE> |
Author:
Sekin Brightfall
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Date Posted: 23:06:53 12/28/03 Sun
In reply to:
Swordslash
's message, "Your story has lots of history behind it. The world your characters live in has depth. Please post more soon! Can't wait to read more." on 18:46:56 12/28/03 Sun
The noise of a running stream reached Grisen’s ears, with its small gurgles and chuckles and tinkling and he frowned. He had never known there to be a stream in these woods. Sarvin headed straight towards it however, and the noise grew louder, the chiming of the flowing water like so many silver bells all ringing out at once, and Grisen followed the Stabnar with hardly a pause. The gleaming waters came into view soon, tiny pinpricks of light catching his eyes with blinding ferocity. The stream coursed down below him in a small dip of the land, babbling to itself in whispers of water.
Sarvin stumbled down to the bank and Grisen followed, bursting out of the trees and walking quickly down the steep slope to the water’s edge. The stream wasn’t large or fast and it moved sluggishly; the light flickering on its surface turned it into a winding, twisting course of light. Sarvin didn’t hesitate at all before splashing into it. The water rose little more than halfway to her knees, but when Grisen plunged it, it rose all the way to his knees. She was a good deal taller than he was. Without slowing, Sarvin waded across, stumbling as often as not, her cloak weighing her down as the water soaked into it. Still, she managed to make it to the opposite bank, using her hands to pull her up and digging in the spikes on the undersides of her boots for purchase. Grisen followed, keeping respectively behind her, and soon they reached the top of the far bank.
The forest stretched away on this side as well, birch, oak, and elm were widely spaced but their branches interwove like locked fingers. A slight breeze whispered through the leaves, causing a continuos rustle like papers being shuffled together or a crowd of people murmuring to each other. And, in-between the gnarled trunks of the trees sagged a wall of stone.
Bending and dipping down in the middle, with individual blocks slowly crumbling away on its edges, it spoke of great age and yet, at the same time, of great power. It had been well built at one time, strongly built. It reared sadly up to the sky a full twenty feet tall, covered with fronds of trailing ivy that seemed almost to cover it in a cloak of green. Grisen stared at it, and at the other heaps of stones scattered around it, half-covered with falling leaves, that would have been the foundations that extended the wall for a great distance.
In the only segment left of the once majestic structure, was an arched doorway, fluted and carved with wondrous twisting lines and swirls along the tall space where a great door once hung. The doorframe was almost as tall as the wall itself, peaking into a magnificent point just inches below the top of the wall, making a complex and beautiful arch.
Sarvin showed no sign of wonderment or surprise. She walked quickly through the doorframe, not pausing to even spare a glance at the carvings and spirals in the doorframe’s side. Grisen padded softly after her, staring in awe at the weaving designs carved lovingly into the stone wall. They were mesmerizing in the ways that they twisted and merged, separated and curled into themselves. They seemed to move when he looked at them from the corner of an eye, as if they were coursing through the stone like a river.
With a crunch of leaves, Sarvin sank down, her back to the wall’s interior. Stabbing her sword down in the loam with a soft thunk, she leaned her head back against the wall and stretched her legs out in front of her. Hooding her eyes, she watched Grisen enter through the doorway, the slits of green following his every movement. He turned to her in amazement. “Where are we? What city is this?”
Sarvin didn’t even bother to raise her head, though her voice was bitter. “I’m becoming tired of all your questions.”
Grisen forced himself to take a deep breath and sheathe his sword calmly. He was a Falkhan, a soldier, if she wanted to be the touchy one, it wasn’t his problem. The green eyes stared at him challengingly but he only kicked a stone out of his way and sat across from her calmly, with a hint of expectancy.
Sarvin snorted at him, but she answered. “This is one of the cities of the Watersingers. Close to a thousand years old I’d say. This wall,” she gestured to the wall behind her head, “is the only thing left standing after they died. The rest of it, the parts that escaped the burning, just crumbled away.”
Grisen carefully erased any traces of surprise from his face and only nodded. Sarvin raised an eyebrow, but continued. “Radgem cannot stand water. They will not enter past this wall or even near it unless forced cruelly. The memories of the Watersingers have never completely faded from their minds, and I don’t think they ever will. Fyrth, if he manages to escape, will know where to come. We only have to wait.”
Sarvin leaned back even more and closed her eyes, crossing one leg up onto the other and relaxing visibly. To the untrained eye, she looked asleep, dozing peacefully, but Grisen was a Falkhan. He could sense the tense readiness in her. She was ready to surge forward at the slightest warning, ready to draw her sword from where it stood, close to hand, for that unexpected, lightning fast jab.
Grisen shook his head and rose smoothly, pacing away from her. She said no Radgem would enter here and she was a Stabnar, so she should know about Radgem, but still…He couldn’t feel safe just resting there. He felt exposed in the crumbling ruins, exposed for the Stabnars and Radgem to see. Stabnars! He couldn’t bring himself to think about them, as much as he tried to deny it, he was terrified about facing the Stabnars, even in his mind. But Fyrth…Something familiar tickled at the back of his mind, but it was like climbing a greased rope. When he almost reached the top, the answer, he slid back down. Shaking his head, he paced softly through the trees. It couldn’t hurt to keep watch. Sarvin might die rather than admit it, but out of the two of them, only he stood some chance of repelling an attack.
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