Alistare
01-17-2007, 10:16 AM
Close your eyes with me and let your mind open to my words. As you stare at the shifting blackness behind your eyelids, a world shall present itself to you. You lift upward from your body and soar into the heights by my side as I tell a tale of bandits, nobles, fire and the birth of a leader. Its the past we seek and enter into now.
We can see all of Dock Town from here. It is a grungy place up close but from this distance it appears clean and free of vagabonds or beggars or whores. We continue our ascent until all of Triskellian is but blur below us. There to the north is the elite New Town and on the west we can barely spot the relics of traditional Old Town. Let us move away from the city we know and into the deep northwestern forests.
As we skim the skies at a speed faster than a destrier at full gallop, we come across the deep, dark forests of Bisclavret lands. There, if you squint just right, you can see our first destination. The original watchtower of Harrowgate Castle. Allow me to introduce you to this wooden wonder of royal residence. We fly lower and lower as the castle comes closer and closer. Being a figment of our own imaginations, we ghost right through the walls, deeper into the home of noble Bisclavret lineage. Far in the corner is thick pine door from which can be heard the hustle and bustle of chattering women. Beyond the door, we enter to see a young female wolf laying in a large overstuffed bed. She is obviously pregnant and near due. Around her scuttle servants and friends caring for her every need. We rise upward through the high ceiling and several unnamed floors until we are again above the city. Let us seek a group among the trees and wilderness.
We skim to the northwest, we drop low to the ground to see beyond the trees. The light barely meets the ground in this dense forest. Ahead we find a group of lumberjacks laboring at the dry trees. Sweat trickles from every brow as the drought reigns supreme over this region. Sitting tall in his saddle is handsome young noble of the Bisclavret line. A few troops remain stolidly by his side. They watch over these commoners as protection from outside forces. The young man leans over his saddle to pat his noble steed in a gesture of camaraderie during this dreary duty. Just as his head dips downward, an arrow slices through the air and barely scrapes the side of his
right cheek. A narrow escape from death but now is not the time to ponder on it for the battle has begun! A large group of pirates have teamed up with a rogue bunch of Phelans to make this attack on a noble of the Bisclavret line. Arrows pour through the sky from the surrounding forest. They tear into unexpecting laborers and soldiers alike. The young man is thrown from his mount to land on his back. The attackers take this chance to stream from the trees and pounce on the unarmed victims. A fierce battle ensues, blood stains the ground, the
arid air is filled with the sounds of agony and destruction. As the young wolf catches his breath, he realizes that all is lost. The pirates and wild wolves shall win this day. His eyes suddenly gleam, an idea has sparked into life. A woman's scream comes from the south and tears us from the forest.
We suddenly find ourselves back in the small room of Harrowgate. The female wolf on the bed begins another bloodcurdling scream as her back arches in pain. The labor of birth has begun but all is not well. The servants frantically run to and fro to find a way to heal or help her labor. A large matronly wolf steps forward and shoos them from the room until it is just her and the mother-to-be. As the midwife bends
over her charge, she starts a slow massage of the stomach and offers low prayers to the Gods and Goddesses of her pagan religion. Our mind is frantic to see both events and begins to flicker from forest to Harrowgate and back again.
The noble wolf slowly rise and shakes his head to clear the fog in his mind. The attackers have closed around him and only a few soldiers are left in his defense. They yell to him, "Go! Run! Get away!." but he is too proud to merely leave his friends to die alone. He reaches upward to his steed's saddlebags and starts to remove burlap sacks of explosive gunpowder. The lumberjacks use it to remove old tree stumps
and clear the way for new roads. The nearby soldiers begin to fall one by one until only he is left alive with the band of killers. In a last ditch effort, he sparks a light from his flint that scorches the drawstring of one of the bags. Tied together, they are thrown upward just before they... EXPLODE!! A flash of light is all he sees before...
We can see all of Dock Town from here. It is a grungy place up close but from this distance it appears clean and free of vagabonds or beggars or whores. We continue our ascent until all of Triskellian is but blur below us. There to the north is the elite New Town and on the west we can barely spot the relics of traditional Old Town. Let us move away from the city we know and into the deep northwestern forests.
As we skim the skies at a speed faster than a destrier at full gallop, we come across the deep, dark forests of Bisclavret lands. There, if you squint just right, you can see our first destination. The original watchtower of Harrowgate Castle. Allow me to introduce you to this wooden wonder of royal residence. We fly lower and lower as the castle comes closer and closer. Being a figment of our own imaginations, we ghost right through the walls, deeper into the home of noble Bisclavret lineage. Far in the corner is thick pine door from which can be heard the hustle and bustle of chattering women. Beyond the door, we enter to see a young female wolf laying in a large overstuffed bed. She is obviously pregnant and near due. Around her scuttle servants and friends caring for her every need. We rise upward through the high ceiling and several unnamed floors until we are again above the city. Let us seek a group among the trees and wilderness.
We skim to the northwest, we drop low to the ground to see beyond the trees. The light barely meets the ground in this dense forest. Ahead we find a group of lumberjacks laboring at the dry trees. Sweat trickles from every brow as the drought reigns supreme over this region. Sitting tall in his saddle is handsome young noble of the Bisclavret line. A few troops remain stolidly by his side. They watch over these commoners as protection from outside forces. The young man leans over his saddle to pat his noble steed in a gesture of camaraderie during this dreary duty. Just as his head dips downward, an arrow slices through the air and barely scrapes the side of his
right cheek. A narrow escape from death but now is not the time to ponder on it for the battle has begun! A large group of pirates have teamed up with a rogue bunch of Phelans to make this attack on a noble of the Bisclavret line. Arrows pour through the sky from the surrounding forest. They tear into unexpecting laborers and soldiers alike. The young man is thrown from his mount to land on his back. The attackers take this chance to stream from the trees and pounce on the unarmed victims. A fierce battle ensues, blood stains the ground, the
arid air is filled with the sounds of agony and destruction. As the young wolf catches his breath, he realizes that all is lost. The pirates and wild wolves shall win this day. His eyes suddenly gleam, an idea has sparked into life. A woman's scream comes from the south and tears us from the forest.
We suddenly find ourselves back in the small room of Harrowgate. The female wolf on the bed begins another bloodcurdling scream as her back arches in pain. The labor of birth has begun but all is not well. The servants frantically run to and fro to find a way to heal or help her labor. A large matronly wolf steps forward and shoos them from the room until it is just her and the mother-to-be. As the midwife bends
over her charge, she starts a slow massage of the stomach and offers low prayers to the Gods and Goddesses of her pagan religion. Our mind is frantic to see both events and begins to flicker from forest to Harrowgate and back again.
The noble wolf slowly rise and shakes his head to clear the fog in his mind. The attackers have closed around him and only a few soldiers are left in his defense. They yell to him, "Go! Run! Get away!." but he is too proud to merely leave his friends to die alone. He reaches upward to his steed's saddlebags and starts to remove burlap sacks of explosive gunpowder. The lumberjacks use it to remove old tree stumps
and clear the way for new roads. The nearby soldiers begin to fall one by one until only he is left alive with the band of killers. In a last ditch effort, he sparks a light from his flint that scorches the drawstring of one of the bags. Tied together, they are thrown upward just before they... EXPLODE!! A flash of light is all he sees before...