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The Tale of the Apprentice | ||||
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01:03:16 Jan 25th 09 - Mr. Travis Leiondon: [[The beginning of the five stories I said I would post before I left... and here is the first.]] The Tale of the Apprentice Prolouge - The Visitor
In the Grand Palace of Port Traven, a single candle was lit. From the window, an old man can be seen sitting there, writing down something on a bit of parchment. The old man was dressed in casual robes, despite the fact he was the Head Councilor of Port Traven, equivalent to being a King. He hummed as he worked, writing more and more until he was finished. He smiled briefly before shoving the parchment away, and at this point, a hand pushed the wooden door open, exposing a darkly robed man. The sand elf pulled his hood off his head and sat down in the armchair nearby. He started the conversation. "Hello, Travis," the elf said in a cheery mood. Travis walked up and out of the room, returning a minute later, holding two cups, and handed the refreshment to Regnir. "So, now that we have settled ourselves, please, do tell why you have come," Travis stated to Regnir. And Travis didn't, for he was already having a short flashback, the day he arrived at the gates of Tarns... [[Chapter One shall come soon...]]] | ||||
20:02:43 Jan 27th 09 - Mr. Travis Leiondon: Chapter One - Upon the Gates of Tarns The day was pleasantly mild the day Travis travelled to Tarns. A nice light breeze would pass by time to time, cooling off him and his men. The road was not congested by the merchants, which was good, as he was to reach Tarns by sunset if there was even a chance of him learning from the Grand Master Regnir, who only took the best archers. Travis was the best in his home country, but the sand elves surpassed all archers with their aweinspiring skills. The Prince did not favor any other type of combat, only archery called to him. "Hello, sentry of Tarns," Travis said to the elf. "I come from the Reveritt Republic to learn from the Grand Master of Archery!" The sentry just stands there, having no idea to what Travis just said. The Prince realized his mistake, and spoke in Sand Elven tongue. "Hiela, urjin let Tarns. I gaslek fri kalen Reveritt Republic kels leran fri kalen Grei Mensa jek Archery!" The sentry, now understsanding Travis, muttered two words: "Fernga mes." or in the human dialect, "Follow me." Travis nodded, and followed the Sentry, leaving his party of men to wander about the massive city and explore around a bit, and probably become drunk. As the pair, Sand Elf and Human, tranced about the city, the Prince took his time to enjoy the sights. The smell of freshly cooked desert foxes almost drew Travis away from the sentry, and towards the stand. Elven children ran about the dirt roads, playing several ridiculous games. The citadel truely was a magnificent place. [[Chapter Two will come... eventually.]] | ||||
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