jjcomet
Well-Known Member
- Joined
- Feb 26, 2021
- Messages
- 62
Hello again. And thanks for all the previous feedback on my first submission. I changed the genre from a direct cut of my work to a short story, and worked on changing from a passive voice to an active one. I am still unsure about the placement of commas: is it a coordinate adjective or a cumulative adjective? See, I did do some research. Enough that my eyes are spinning.
Anyway, here is my effort. And as always, comments welcomed.
Meeting at an inn:
Welcome reader to the world of Fälgorna. A wondrous world where the brave of heart, foolhardy, and innocent live. Dragons soar the skies searching for treasure. Demons gate to and fro snatching victims, and duels vie for the affections of maidens. Yet, hidden in a pall of secrecy, downright despicable deeds also occur.
A rescue mission materializes due to one such evil act. Starting in the city-state of Rush, a small kingdom carved by the edge of a sword. Here, two longtime friends walk through the capital streets, towards their appointed meeting. Though there is a vast difference between them, the ease of their comradery is every present.
Garym Alandras, having the look and air of a swordsman, politely listens to Vaust prattle on about the inn before them. His blue eyes take in the jetted, half-timbered, upper floors, similar to dwellings visited in various mountainous regions. An open window on the main level allows the sound of patrons, and an occasional scrape of a chair, to be heard over the commotion of Rush. While the pleasant aroma of a cooking fire and a fine meal dissipates the surrounding stench, making Garym’s stomach growl.
A round sign: The Brass Shield Inn, hangs on the stone wall between the window and the wooden door. Vaust spins in place before the sign, her long dark hair floats about her shoulders, showing the tips of her pointed ears. She holds out her hands in a way of presentation.
“Did I mention the food here’s great? Nothing fancy, but prepared by someone who’s traveled. Gathering spices, herbs and whatever else,” waving her hands about, “to make eating here a treat.” The energetic female spins again, receiving looks of confusion from a few citizens. Vaust calms down, acting if telling a secret, “And those shields hanging around the fireplace, ha! All have some kind of battle damage on ‘em.” With a look of knowing she grins at Garym, “You just have to see it, and then there’s the claw from a green dragon.”
“Ah, Vaust?” Garym interrupts, realizing she has once again forgotten what she is doing, as is her way. In feign frustration he runs a hand through his blond hair, “Care if we go in, so I can see for myself?” Pointing a finger at the door.
“Oh, what? Enter? Why didn’t you say so?” Smiling, she pushes on the door handle, “You’re so considerate.”
Those inside notice a petite female glide effortlessly through the opening. She blinks her silver, almond shaped, elven eyes adjusting to the interior. The attractive elf casually surveys the customers before taking a few steps towards the bar. A human male follows her, blotting out much of the light through the doorway.
Garym, while closing the door, notices a flash of blue at the nearby table. Over his shoulder he comments to Vaust.
“Didn’t you say something about blue being the color to look for?”
“Yea?”
“What of this cloak on this chair?”
Vaust spins around, tilting her head to peer around her larger companion, looking at the chair.
“That’s Astrin’s cloak,” she states with interest. Vaust slides behind Garym and the chair, climbing on the bench against the exterior wall.
Garym drapes his own green cloak, reflections of his ranger days, over a different chair. Before sitting, he adjusts his two sheathed blades out of the way with an automatic motion. Both acquired during his days adventuring with Vaust.
Those watching realize the two swords have different scabbards and hilts. One blade forged from the green metal of a meteor. The second crafted from a blue crystalline substance; causing one to think the weapon will shatter instead of slice. The warrior carries both blades with an undercurrent stating he knows how to use them exceptionally well.
“There’s the wall with all those shields,” Vaust mentions with contained excitement. Garym assesses the assortment across the room. As told, all have various forms of damage upon them. From embedded arrows and spear heads, cleft edges, to one tower shield with a fist size hole through the middle. “And that round shield on the mantle, see what it’s sitting on?” Garym directs his view to the large green claw. “The owner, Kurtis, used his share of the dragon’s hoard to open up this place.” Vaust pauses a second, “Notice those three rents across the front of that brass shield? Made by that dragon.” Garym can easily envision the adult green clawing at the shield, having confronted a red, and two white dragons.
“Ha,” Vaust whispers, “there's our recruiter, Astrin. He’s also a noted member to the arcane academy, here in Rush.”
Her introduction coincides with the appearance of a middle-aged male, easily moving around the corner of the bar. A pleased smile shows on Astrin’s face, and in his green eyes, as he approaches them carrying a wooden platter with delectable appearing food. A mouthwatering aroma of the tray’s bounty surges over the table, moments before it is set about.
“Welcome to the Brass Shield Inn, Garym. My name, as I’m sure Vaust has told you, is Astrin Hennten, and I’m currently in need of some help. But please, as my newest guest here in Rush, allow me to offer you a fine meal and drink.”
A red-haired waitress steps to the table, expertly balancing two beverage trays. Astrin deftly takes control of one; containing a foaming clay pitcher of mead, two empty cups, and a third filled with wine. Remaining in his serving role, Astrin asks.
“Is there anything else either of you would care for?”
Not standing on ceremony Vaust busily slices off portions of ham with her byknife, placing the meat on her plate. “Good for now, though will need another drink during the meal.”
“I’m fine for now thanks,” Garym states, filling both cups. His stomach hungry for the delicious smelling fare.
“Please,” Astrin flourishes a hand in the direction of Vaust, indicating her start, “enjoy the meal, Garym.” He tosses his blue cloak and black hat on the bench beside the ravenous appearing elf. With his foot, Astrin adjust the chair so he can sit.
Garym serves a plate of his own and is impressed, nodding in their host’s direction. Vaust takes a quick drink, before smiling over her cup at Garym.
“Told you the food here’s good.”
“True, true.”
Delighted in hearing the complements, Astrin fills his plate. Inwardly, the dark haired mage with a stylish goatee, equates what he sees of Garym. Deducing that to what Vaust has spoken about the ranger/psionicist. As with all who willingly venture through ancient castles, deep caverns, and forgotten cities, there is a wildness in that person’s eyes which is recognizable. It is something perceived, not tangibly viewed. The wild, hard edge aura upon the two before him speaks volumes as to the horrors they have encountered.
“So, Garym?” Astrin begins. “With your accompanying Vaust here, it means you’ve agreed to hear my proposal for a rescue mission.” He looks between the two, “Before I get into the details I’m expecting another person, hopefully by tomorrow, who has a direct connection to this endeavor.” Taking a drink of ale. “Vaust, you remember the color to find me?”
“Sure,” she points down to his cloak.
Suddenly Astrin becomes still, having a faraway look, instantly drawing Vaust and Garym’s attention. Then the mage relaxes, smiling as the door opens behind him. “Looks like we’re going to need another plate,” he comments.
Vaust quickly stands, excitedly pointing a finger at the person closing the door.
“Holy demon sh*t! He’s blue!”
Anyway, here is my effort. And as always, comments welcomed.
Meeting at an inn:
Welcome reader to the world of Fälgorna. A wondrous world where the brave of heart, foolhardy, and innocent live. Dragons soar the skies searching for treasure. Demons gate to and fro snatching victims, and duels vie for the affections of maidens. Yet, hidden in a pall of secrecy, downright despicable deeds also occur.
A rescue mission materializes due to one such evil act. Starting in the city-state of Rush, a small kingdom carved by the edge of a sword. Here, two longtime friends walk through the capital streets, towards their appointed meeting. Though there is a vast difference between them, the ease of their comradery is every present.
Garym Alandras, having the look and air of a swordsman, politely listens to Vaust prattle on about the inn before them. His blue eyes take in the jetted, half-timbered, upper floors, similar to dwellings visited in various mountainous regions. An open window on the main level allows the sound of patrons, and an occasional scrape of a chair, to be heard over the commotion of Rush. While the pleasant aroma of a cooking fire and a fine meal dissipates the surrounding stench, making Garym’s stomach growl.
A round sign: The Brass Shield Inn, hangs on the stone wall between the window and the wooden door. Vaust spins in place before the sign, her long dark hair floats about her shoulders, showing the tips of her pointed ears. She holds out her hands in a way of presentation.
“Did I mention the food here’s great? Nothing fancy, but prepared by someone who’s traveled. Gathering spices, herbs and whatever else,” waving her hands about, “to make eating here a treat.” The energetic female spins again, receiving looks of confusion from a few citizens. Vaust calms down, acting if telling a secret, “And those shields hanging around the fireplace, ha! All have some kind of battle damage on ‘em.” With a look of knowing she grins at Garym, “You just have to see it, and then there’s the claw from a green dragon.”
“Ah, Vaust?” Garym interrupts, realizing she has once again forgotten what she is doing, as is her way. In feign frustration he runs a hand through his blond hair, “Care if we go in, so I can see for myself?” Pointing a finger at the door.
“Oh, what? Enter? Why didn’t you say so?” Smiling, she pushes on the door handle, “You’re so considerate.”
Those inside notice a petite female glide effortlessly through the opening. She blinks her silver, almond shaped, elven eyes adjusting to the interior. The attractive elf casually surveys the customers before taking a few steps towards the bar. A human male follows her, blotting out much of the light through the doorway.
Garym, while closing the door, notices a flash of blue at the nearby table. Over his shoulder he comments to Vaust.
“Didn’t you say something about blue being the color to look for?”
“Yea?”
“What of this cloak on this chair?”
Vaust spins around, tilting her head to peer around her larger companion, looking at the chair.
“That’s Astrin’s cloak,” she states with interest. Vaust slides behind Garym and the chair, climbing on the bench against the exterior wall.
Garym drapes his own green cloak, reflections of his ranger days, over a different chair. Before sitting, he adjusts his two sheathed blades out of the way with an automatic motion. Both acquired during his days adventuring with Vaust.
Those watching realize the two swords have different scabbards and hilts. One blade forged from the green metal of a meteor. The second crafted from a blue crystalline substance; causing one to think the weapon will shatter instead of slice. The warrior carries both blades with an undercurrent stating he knows how to use them exceptionally well.
“There’s the wall with all those shields,” Vaust mentions with contained excitement. Garym assesses the assortment across the room. As told, all have various forms of damage upon them. From embedded arrows and spear heads, cleft edges, to one tower shield with a fist size hole through the middle. “And that round shield on the mantle, see what it’s sitting on?” Garym directs his view to the large green claw. “The owner, Kurtis, used his share of the dragon’s hoard to open up this place.” Vaust pauses a second, “Notice those three rents across the front of that brass shield? Made by that dragon.” Garym can easily envision the adult green clawing at the shield, having confronted a red, and two white dragons.
“Ha,” Vaust whispers, “there's our recruiter, Astrin. He’s also a noted member to the arcane academy, here in Rush.”
Her introduction coincides with the appearance of a middle-aged male, easily moving around the corner of the bar. A pleased smile shows on Astrin’s face, and in his green eyes, as he approaches them carrying a wooden platter with delectable appearing food. A mouthwatering aroma of the tray’s bounty surges over the table, moments before it is set about.
“Welcome to the Brass Shield Inn, Garym. My name, as I’m sure Vaust has told you, is Astrin Hennten, and I’m currently in need of some help. But please, as my newest guest here in Rush, allow me to offer you a fine meal and drink.”
A red-haired waitress steps to the table, expertly balancing two beverage trays. Astrin deftly takes control of one; containing a foaming clay pitcher of mead, two empty cups, and a third filled with wine. Remaining in his serving role, Astrin asks.
“Is there anything else either of you would care for?”
Not standing on ceremony Vaust busily slices off portions of ham with her byknife, placing the meat on her plate. “Good for now, though will need another drink during the meal.”
“I’m fine for now thanks,” Garym states, filling both cups. His stomach hungry for the delicious smelling fare.
“Please,” Astrin flourishes a hand in the direction of Vaust, indicating her start, “enjoy the meal, Garym.” He tosses his blue cloak and black hat on the bench beside the ravenous appearing elf. With his foot, Astrin adjust the chair so he can sit.
Garym serves a plate of his own and is impressed, nodding in their host’s direction. Vaust takes a quick drink, before smiling over her cup at Garym.
“Told you the food here’s good.”
“True, true.”
Delighted in hearing the complements, Astrin fills his plate. Inwardly, the dark haired mage with a stylish goatee, equates what he sees of Garym. Deducing that to what Vaust has spoken about the ranger/psionicist. As with all who willingly venture through ancient castles, deep caverns, and forgotten cities, there is a wildness in that person’s eyes which is recognizable. It is something perceived, not tangibly viewed. The wild, hard edge aura upon the two before him speaks volumes as to the horrors they have encountered.
“So, Garym?” Astrin begins. “With your accompanying Vaust here, it means you’ve agreed to hear my proposal for a rescue mission.” He looks between the two, “Before I get into the details I’m expecting another person, hopefully by tomorrow, who has a direct connection to this endeavor.” Taking a drink of ale. “Vaust, you remember the color to find me?”
“Sure,” she points down to his cloak.
Suddenly Astrin becomes still, having a faraway look, instantly drawing Vaust and Garym’s attention. Then the mage relaxes, smiling as the door opens behind him. “Looks like we’re going to need another plate,” he comments.
Vaust quickly stands, excitedly pointing a finger at the person closing the door.
“Holy demon sh*t! He’s blue!”
