NaNoWriMo Warm-up: A Fantasy Setting

Posted: 25/10/2012 in Uncategorized

Rohald the miller, as he had come to be known, knew that he was the appointed herald of Oskus the seer.  That it is why he, who had been blessed with tracts of open farmland at his humble estate would be the one to bring the message of coming destruction to Mons Istelle.  Here inside his barn, on top of his simple wagon, Rohald looked down at the crowd below.

“The Dragons walk among us!” Rohald said.  He looked down on the the thirty or so followers, “and we here, are the true followers of Oskus.”

There were murmurs of confident assent through the crowd.  The all looked up at him.

“But there are those who do not understand the truth of Oskus!”  He continued, “there are those in the city who have lived to long believing lies, and taking Oskus for their own!”

“The corrupted orders!” cried a congregant.

“Yes!” Said Rohald as he pointed to the congregant, “it is they who do not know the coming judgment on this city.  As the Oskus said, ‘I proclaim on this very city that the dragons will arise and it shall never be have life in it again!’ Do you see what that means?  Not a plant, not a mouse, not a single insect will live in Mons Istelle after the destruction.”

Wide-eyed gasps and shivers floated through the crowd.

“The corrupted orders who have so long known been blinded to the truth oppose us,” he said, “but we must never stop preaching!  The more we are opposed, the greater our mission!”

An owl perched in the rafters listened to the impassioned exhortations from the strange man on top of the cart.  His breaches wear finely threaded and his boots were made of soft calve skin.  They look comfortable to the owl.  Far more comfortable than some of the rougher hide slippers worn by the masses.  The owl noted the arm bands that each person in the crowd wore.  They had a tarnished white look to them, almost as if they were bandages.  On each of them was something a yellow symbol.  It looked much like horseshoe hanging in an arch.  In the center of the horse shoe arch there was simple arrow pointing up.  Was it meant to be gold?  A sun color?  The owl had trouble deciding exactly what the symbol meant.

“So pray, therefore,” continued Rohald, “pray that all will know the truth.  Soon we will escape the city before the coming of the 10,000 storms!”

It was here that the owl had heard enough.  It flapped its wings and flew unnoticed out of the barn.

Deep within Elvish quarter the owl found its home.  It perched on the window and hooted.  An smiling elf walked to the open window.  His silk robe trailed behind him.

“Arcturo,” he said, “You are ready now?  I may turn you back into human now?

  1. I knew there was *something* about that owl.

    Great stuff. Good luck in November.

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