Post by shahakran on Dec 18, 2003 15:58:16 GMT
Night time begins to settle, and the light from a small fire arises somewhere in the King's Forest. The light from the fire gives an eerie glow to the figure sitting in front of it.
Small in stature, he scribbles furiously in a small book. The scratchings look vaguely elvish but no elf would have been able to read them.
Presently he stops and placing both book and quill to one side he picks up a stick and pokes the fire with it. A small glint appears in his eye and he cannot suppress a grin that spreads over his face.
"So when are you going to come out of hiding and come sit by the fire", he says.
A figure appears, folding himself out of the shadows.
"How did you?... I mean...well...?", the figure stutters.
"I always know when you are about...little brother"
The figure comes closer to the fire and sitting beside him, the similarity is obvious. In fact, not many are able to tell them apart.
The rogue grins as he sits,
"It is god to see you back on your feet, Imin. I had thought for a time that our journey here might have been too much on you"
Imin laughs,
"Father wil not be pleased, will he. He spent so much time getting that portal working and now I think I've gone and ruined it for good."
The two laugh for a time, but as the laughter dies down, Imon's face takes on a concerned look,
"But... how are you feeling now brother?"
"Much better. I even got out for a little adventure today. I met a person,... very odd he seemed to me at first"
"Really? What name did he have?"
"He was called Hand,... Hand Fearlson."
"No, I've never heard of him. But then I have not met many in my time here"
"Well, I wrote something down and I was wondering if you could listen to it for me"
Imon sighs but nods his head in agreement.
Imin clears his throat and commences into a lilting, chanting air:
I met a man along the road,
His arms were strong but eyes so cold.
"Greetings to you", I said to him,
But he paid me no heed.
I followed him, as he walked.
He never smiled and never talked,
But on and on and on he walked,
And never noticed me.
Through the village and on and on,
Into the mountains and on and on,
Passed the farmlands and on and on,
And I followed him still.
In the desert we arrived,
And through sandstorms I strived
To keep him in my sights.
But it was too difficult for me.
Eventually, the storms abated,
With a drink of water
My thirst was sated,
But I could not believe my eyes.
I was in a ruined citadel,
With wondrous sights,
I could not wait to tell
Others of what I saw!
His voice trails off and he pokes the fire with the stick again.
"So...", Imon began
"Well, that's all I've written so far. I was writing it until you arrived"
"And is there more to the story?"
"There was a building there, quite well preserved, so I went in. There were all manner of statues there, of deities, like some kind of Pantheon."
"And did you meet that fellow again?"
"That's the strange thing. There were stairs going up and down. I walked to the stairs leading up and I could hear voices. So, up I went and walked in and there was the man I had seen. He was talking to one of the statues!"
"Yeah, you get a lot of fruits around here"
"That's the thing. The statue was talking back to him. It said:
'The decision is yours to make, but you must be willing to make the sacrifice.'
To which the man replied:
'I am willing.'
Then he lay down all his possesions on the ground and there was a great flash of light and I was knocked off my feet. When I came to, the man was standing over me, dressed in some kind of robe. He helped me up and I noticed his eyes. They weren't cold anymore, but gleaming bright. I asked him what had happened and he just smiled. All he said was:
'It is good to meet you Imin Inotep. I am Hand Fearlson, cleric of Kedemah. Let me get you back to where you belong'
And suddenly I woke in a bed in the inn in West Styne."
His brother looked long and hard at him. Then nodded.
"An interesting story....but..."
"But what?" Imin questions concernedly.
A gleam enters Imon's eyes,
"It's a pity it couldn't be told better", he laughs.
Imin punches him in the ribs and Imon collapses on his back laughing.
"Well, I suppose you could've done better?"
"I dunno, maybe. I mean, c'mon Imin, 'With a drink of water/My thirst was sated.' What were you thinking?"
"And what would you have written" Imin questions heatedly.
Imon picks up the stick and pokes the fire with it, the gleam still in his eye
"Dunno...maybe... I had a drink coz I was thirsty what with being in the desert and all"
Small in stature, he scribbles furiously in a small book. The scratchings look vaguely elvish but no elf would have been able to read them.
Presently he stops and placing both book and quill to one side he picks up a stick and pokes the fire with it. A small glint appears in his eye and he cannot suppress a grin that spreads over his face.
"So when are you going to come out of hiding and come sit by the fire", he says.
A figure appears, folding himself out of the shadows.
"How did you?... I mean...well...?", the figure stutters.
"I always know when you are about...little brother"
The figure comes closer to the fire and sitting beside him, the similarity is obvious. In fact, not many are able to tell them apart.
The rogue grins as he sits,
"It is god to see you back on your feet, Imin. I had thought for a time that our journey here might have been too much on you"
Imin laughs,
"Father wil not be pleased, will he. He spent so much time getting that portal working and now I think I've gone and ruined it for good."
The two laugh for a time, but as the laughter dies down, Imon's face takes on a concerned look,
"But... how are you feeling now brother?"
"Much better. I even got out for a little adventure today. I met a person,... very odd he seemed to me at first"
"Really? What name did he have?"
"He was called Hand,... Hand Fearlson."
"No, I've never heard of him. But then I have not met many in my time here"
"Well, I wrote something down and I was wondering if you could listen to it for me"
Imon sighs but nods his head in agreement.
Imin clears his throat and commences into a lilting, chanting air:
I met a man along the road,
His arms were strong but eyes so cold.
"Greetings to you", I said to him,
But he paid me no heed.
I followed him, as he walked.
He never smiled and never talked,
But on and on and on he walked,
And never noticed me.
Through the village and on and on,
Into the mountains and on and on,
Passed the farmlands and on and on,
And I followed him still.
In the desert we arrived,
And through sandstorms I strived
To keep him in my sights.
But it was too difficult for me.
Eventually, the storms abated,
With a drink of water
My thirst was sated,
But I could not believe my eyes.
I was in a ruined citadel,
With wondrous sights,
I could not wait to tell
Others of what I saw!
His voice trails off and he pokes the fire with the stick again.
"So...", Imon began
"Well, that's all I've written so far. I was writing it until you arrived"
"And is there more to the story?"
"There was a building there, quite well preserved, so I went in. There were all manner of statues there, of deities, like some kind of Pantheon."
"And did you meet that fellow again?"
"That's the strange thing. There were stairs going up and down. I walked to the stairs leading up and I could hear voices. So, up I went and walked in and there was the man I had seen. He was talking to one of the statues!"
"Yeah, you get a lot of fruits around here"
"That's the thing. The statue was talking back to him. It said:
'The decision is yours to make, but you must be willing to make the sacrifice.'
To which the man replied:
'I am willing.'
Then he lay down all his possesions on the ground and there was a great flash of light and I was knocked off my feet. When I came to, the man was standing over me, dressed in some kind of robe. He helped me up and I noticed his eyes. They weren't cold anymore, but gleaming bright. I asked him what had happened and he just smiled. All he said was:
'It is good to meet you Imin Inotep. I am Hand Fearlson, cleric of Kedemah. Let me get you back to where you belong'
And suddenly I woke in a bed in the inn in West Styne."
His brother looked long and hard at him. Then nodded.
"An interesting story....but..."
"But what?" Imin questions concernedly.
A gleam enters Imon's eyes,
"It's a pity it couldn't be told better", he laughs.
Imin punches him in the ribs and Imon collapses on his back laughing.
"Well, I suppose you could've done better?"
"I dunno, maybe. I mean, c'mon Imin, 'With a drink of water/My thirst was sated.' What were you thinking?"
"And what would you have written" Imin questions heatedly.
Imon picks up the stick and pokes the fire with it, the gleam still in his eye
"Dunno...maybe... I had a drink coz I was thirsty what with being in the desert and all"
