Varen6398 -> RE: (DF) Varen-Everyone has a dark side (12/14/2011 15:41:49)
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I have added a little more to the new version: quote:
Chapter 1 The sun rose high above the clouds that day. Great billowing clouds broke and the sun shone through the darkness, the star illuminating the great town. Little wooden houses sprawled across the land, and the people woke up to the luminous light of Lore. A grand stone tower, its magnificence matching its size, stood stark over the town, taking its stand on a rocky outcrop that reached out into the deep waters of Falconreach bay. A large granite eagle stretched its wings over the tower unyielding to the gentle breeze of the sea. Its piercing eyes gazed warily over the town below and its untiring head refused to move to face away from the bright rising sun. The town’s people started to slowly fill the streets. The town of Falconreach awakened. The man lay on his side, his dark cropped hair faced away from the window and his tanned face looked towards it. His muscular arms lay over the orange bed sheets and his dark brown eyes opened up to the sight of his curtains. He craned his neck to look up towards the open window, and watched the sun rise on the horizon. He remembered that the night before he had watched the moon, its ghostly light intriguing him. He always had an interest in the astronomy, its explanations of the universe giving him a sense of uselessness. He liked the feeling of it because it reminded him that the universe didn’t revolve around him, a lesson that he had often forgot. He sighed, letting out a breath of warm air. His tired eyes blinked and his head pulsed from the blood running from his head to his body. As his mind began to register things properly he looked at his bed sheet. ‘Orange. Why did I choose orange over all the other colours I could have had?’ He could find no logical reason to why he had bought orange bed sheets, and so he simply stopped thinking about it. He sat up straight rubbing his sleepy eyes and opening his mouth widely to yawn. He stretched his arms out instinctively as he yawned, his eyes squeezing shut as his mouth stretched open. As he closed his mouth, he remembered that his window was open. He turned his head to the left, and grasped his hand around the window’s handle, quickly shutting it to get rid of the cold sea air. He quickly shut the curtains so he could get changed and realised all too quickly that his curtains were also orange. His thoughts about the colour orange returned all too quickly. ‘Orange again! What was I thinking when I got these curtains?’ He swung his legs out of the bed. He wearily looked at his cupboard, his body still refusing to wake up. He walked over to the oak wardrobe, his legs dragging along the ground like an injured soldier. He opened the door of his expensive furniture and sifted through his various belongings. Most of it was armour pieces, forged from the highest quality metal and coloured a deep shade of grey. Its grey colour meant that during the night it was easy to hide. He carried on searching through his pieces of armour and clothing and stopped when he finally found a thick and dirty cloth shirt. It smelt a bit like wet mud and grass, but he didn’t care. As a soldier of Falconreach he had faced much worse smells and odours, and seen much worse than horrible looking shirts. He quickly pulled the smelly top over his head and onto his body before closing the solid doors of his wardrobe. He turned and began kneeling so he could get to the bottom draw of his small, rather boring cupboard. He opened it up, and found a pair of long, black trousers. He pulled them on quickly, accidentally putting them on backwards, and then turned them the right way round. He turned his head to the right, causing it to make a large cracking sound. He had been told by his doctor to not do it, but his doctor was killed well over a year ago in an undead invasion. He heard a knock at the door. His head swivelled quickly, turning to the door on the opposite side of the house. He turned back, quickly picking up a pair of shoes, with the name ‘Varen’ written across the insides in some sort of silver ink. He pulled on some large, dark greaves that covered most of the front of his lower leg before fitting another onto his other leg. He swiftly moved towards the door and, in one swift move, he opened the door and jumped back to his wardrobe. He began to strap a breastplate on; he had found it lying in one of his larger cupboard draws. The cuirass had the word ‘Varen’ scrawled across the inside with irremovable magic ink. A small, squeaky voice floated over from the door. “Varen are you alright? You seem a bit busy...” The voice trailed off, ending with neither a statement nor a question. Despite this, the man replied, retorting quickly to the comment. “No, I’ll be ready soon. I just need to get this blasted armour on...” This time Varen’s voice faded off into the distant reaches of sound as he struggled to fit on a pair of pauldrons onto his arms. He hopped around a bit, before finally fitting them on. He walked over to the door before fighting with his armour any more. Standing at the door was a most unusual creature. It was a shade of red, crimson to be exact, but the insides of its very large ears were yellow. It was a rather small creature, its ears being the thing that gave it its height, much like a giraffe to its neck. It was no taller than two foot, including its ears. It carried a staff (to Varen it was a stick, but to the creature itself it was a staff) that was quite simple, a single smooth stick with a little rope attached around the end; a small leaf was attached to the top, that moved in the gentle breeze outside. Its head was small, no bigger than the size of one’s fist, and plonked onto it was a small, shiny black nose, and two deep and sparkling eyes. To a Lorian, this creature was known as a moglin. The name of this particular moglin was Twilly, a name known throughout Lore as one of the greatest moglin healers of all time. “Twilly,” Varen cried out “, it’s great to see you again! How can I help you?” Varen smiled as he knelt down to the moglin. Any comments appreciated.
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