This is just the first chapter; I have a lot more. If it gets released I'll submit the other ones. Don't expect this to make sense as a game introduction yet :).
Royalty.
Tathalin pulled the hood of his finely woven elven cloak tighter over his head. His delicate pointed ears wrinkling the dark green cloth, he fingered the golden hem thoughtfully. His face was beautiful even for an elf, with a thin delicate nose and a beardless, fragile chin; but his eyes were the color of cold gray steel. They shone with an inner fire, yet they were dull and opaque, merciless and unforgiving. His thin lips were pressed tightly together into an almost ever-present frown of distaste and arrogance.
His cloak swirling around him, he walked regally down the empty, windblown road; his feet strode smoothly across the rough cobblestones. The decrepit buildings on either side of the road seemed to sag inwards, tired and weary. They moaned with the wind, shutters flapping open and parchments or clothes flying out of poorly fastened windows.
A larger, well-muscled man tramped after the elf, dressed in leather armor with steel trappings. Strapped to his side was a gleaming bastard sword, well-used and well-polished. It had a simple hilt, yet a sapphire rested in its pommel. The handle was wrapped with crinkled and sweat-saturated leather, covering any other decorations. Over his back, the man wore a round metal shield, about half as large as himself. It had a golden, ornate embossing in the center which gleamed in the reflected light of the storm lanterns swinging wildly from hooks over the nearby doorways. He marched in silence, yet he was attentive and alert, his eyes constantly scanning the road ahead and behind him.
Tathalin turned to him and pointed to a nearby inn. Thin fingers of light escaped through the cracks in its worn oaken door, sealed tightly against the wind. The man nodded, and said, Yes, milord. Shall I organize our lodgings here?
The elf nodded curtly, and let his human companion pass him. Order food and wine as well, the best they have got, Barinmar.
Of course, milord, the man responded, and opened the heavy door. Stepping in to the comparative warmth of the inn, he held the door open for his lord to pass, bowing his head slightly.
When the door shut with an ominous crash, Barinmar looked up to see the patrons of the inn staring at the companions with disapproval and suspicion. He walked forward to the bar where the innkeeper stood, his sword clanking at his side, as the elf lord seated himself disdainfully in a frayed leather armchair near the fire.
The innkeeper, a small, nervous man with a graying hair and a dirty apron that he was wiping his hands on, came towards Barinmar carrying a scroll and an inkwell. Looking flusteredly around at the resentful patrons, he began in a quiet, meek voice, Welcome, sirs, to the Boars Head Inn. We offer rooms for as long as a week, with food and wine provided twice a day. Single meals are also served at any time of the day, though these are not included in the
Yes, yes, we want the most comfortable room in the inn, with a bed, fireplace, and writing table, and no window. Send us your best food and wine up as well. What is the cost? Barinmar said.
Oh yes, of course, sir...the cost is...6 silvers a night for the room, and 8 coppers for the meal...
Barinmar walked over to Tathalin, and ignoring the silent, sullen guests told him in a low voice, Milord, the innkeeper requests 6 silvers and 8 coppers for the room and meal.
Tathalin reached under his cloak, and after a moment of searching, withdrew the coins and placed them into Barinmars open palm. Barinmar inclined his head and sauntered back to the innkeeper, who was watching intently. Handing him the coins, he pulled over the book and wrote in small, flourishing handwriting "Tathalin Starborn, Lord of Wyrmdrake Keep."
(This message has been edited by moderator (edited 03-07-2002).)
(This message has been edited by llegolas (edited 03-07-2002).)
