Post by Val Waralic on Mar 7, 2009 20:33:53 GMT -5
"Welcome, Stranger. What can I get ye?" the bartender asked, placing his greasy hands on the mead-slicked counter, "A pint of ale, perhaps?"
"A room," the stranger grunted, warily watching the bartender and the old drunk sitting beside him. His eyes roamed the small pub. There was a maiden with curly brown hair, a young man, half in the bottle, with a sharp nose, and a younger blonde boy who looked rather lost.
The bartender considered the stranger for a moment before agreeing to rent him a room.
"One night," he said gruffly, "And it'll cost ye six scales."
The stranger plopped the shiny white scales on the counter, much to the bartender's dismay. Begrudgingly, the overweight man took a key from behind the counter and shoved it into the stranger's open hand.
"Outside, up the steps, second door."
The stranger turned and strode as fast as he could out of the pub, commanding more attention with the sound of his heavy steps than he had wanted. The blonde boy took too much interest, and as the stranger went out the door, he shot the child a reprimanding glance.
The stranger rounded the corner, went up the steps, and into the second door on the left. The bed barely fit into the tiny room, but it would do for his purposes. Calmly, he sat on the down mattress and removed his hand from his left side. Dark blood stained his hand, sleeve, and the entire area surrounding the open gash in his side.
It's a miracle I made it this far, he thought grimmly. He turned slightly, a painful movement, but his pleasant face showed none of it.
"Let's see, little thing, what am I going to do with you?" he asked a small round stone that he had pulled from his beltpurse. The thing jiggled slightly, as if trembling in fear.
A spasm of pain swept through the stranger's body and his head swam. A tiny bit of him held onto consciousness, but even that bit was soon overtaken. He collapsed to the floor with a loud thump.
"Sir?" A voice pulled at the stranger's mind, "Sir!" The sound of wood splinttering and then a warm hand on his face.
"Sir?" The stranger opened his eyes slowly. The blonde boy from the pub was standing over him. The stranger tried to get up, but the movement sent him into bouts of coughing. Thick black blood spewwed from his mouth, staining his teeth and lips. He groaned.
"Sir, be still, you'll be alright! I'll go fetch help!" the boy said earnestly, rising to run for help.
"No," the stranger said. The boy paused and returned to the man's side, "No, I'm done for. The blade that bit me was poisoned. Where's the stone?"
The boy looked around, then reached for the small round stone.
"This one?" he asked, pressing the cold rock into the man's hand. He nodded slowly, then paused to sum up enough strength to speak.
"This stone is an egg," he said, "And I am Prince Yurrick Aurion. The last of the royal bloodline. This egg was to hatch and help me gain my father's throne back. Now, child, that falls to you."
He pressed the egg firmly back into the boy's hand.
"It won't hatch for quite some time. The Dark Lord with search for it, and if he finds it, there will be no hope of defeating him. Go, boy. Travel far and wide, search for friends. Those who also carry eggs and creatures of great power. Build your army and then take back the kingdom from the Dark Prince."
The Prince's voice was getting weak and the boy was hovering close to hear his words.
"Boy, tell me your name so that I may bless your journey when I am in the sky."
"M-my name is Eriik Marson," the boy said, trembling.
"Eriik Marson, have courage. Take back the kingdom."
Yurrick Aurion's last weak breath streamed from his nostrols. The boy, Eriik Marson, shook for a moment then became violently ill. After a few moments, the nausea passed and Eriik straightened. He glanced at the dead man, then the small stone.
"What are you?" he asked, reaching over and picking it up. He touched it to his cheek, pleased at the cold feeling against his skin.
I am the Savior of Aurion, said a small voice in the back of his head. He paused, staring at the silvery-grey rock. A spark of courage made him stand and pocket the stone.
"I better get moving," he said to himself, "Heavens only know what I've gotten into."
"A room," the stranger grunted, warily watching the bartender and the old drunk sitting beside him. His eyes roamed the small pub. There was a maiden with curly brown hair, a young man, half in the bottle, with a sharp nose, and a younger blonde boy who looked rather lost.
The bartender considered the stranger for a moment before agreeing to rent him a room.
"One night," he said gruffly, "And it'll cost ye six scales."
The stranger plopped the shiny white scales on the counter, much to the bartender's dismay. Begrudgingly, the overweight man took a key from behind the counter and shoved it into the stranger's open hand.
"Outside, up the steps, second door."
The stranger turned and strode as fast as he could out of the pub, commanding more attention with the sound of his heavy steps than he had wanted. The blonde boy took too much interest, and as the stranger went out the door, he shot the child a reprimanding glance.
The stranger rounded the corner, went up the steps, and into the second door on the left. The bed barely fit into the tiny room, but it would do for his purposes. Calmly, he sat on the down mattress and removed his hand from his left side. Dark blood stained his hand, sleeve, and the entire area surrounding the open gash in his side.
It's a miracle I made it this far, he thought grimmly. He turned slightly, a painful movement, but his pleasant face showed none of it.
"Let's see, little thing, what am I going to do with you?" he asked a small round stone that he had pulled from his beltpurse. The thing jiggled slightly, as if trembling in fear.
A spasm of pain swept through the stranger's body and his head swam. A tiny bit of him held onto consciousness, but even that bit was soon overtaken. He collapsed to the floor with a loud thump.
"Sir?" A voice pulled at the stranger's mind, "Sir!" The sound of wood splinttering and then a warm hand on his face.
"Sir?" The stranger opened his eyes slowly. The blonde boy from the pub was standing over him. The stranger tried to get up, but the movement sent him into bouts of coughing. Thick black blood spewwed from his mouth, staining his teeth and lips. He groaned.
"Sir, be still, you'll be alright! I'll go fetch help!" the boy said earnestly, rising to run for help.
"No," the stranger said. The boy paused and returned to the man's side, "No, I'm done for. The blade that bit me was poisoned. Where's the stone?"
The boy looked around, then reached for the small round stone.
"This one?" he asked, pressing the cold rock into the man's hand. He nodded slowly, then paused to sum up enough strength to speak.
"This stone is an egg," he said, "And I am Prince Yurrick Aurion. The last of the royal bloodline. This egg was to hatch and help me gain my father's throne back. Now, child, that falls to you."
He pressed the egg firmly back into the boy's hand.
"It won't hatch for quite some time. The Dark Lord with search for it, and if he finds it, there will be no hope of defeating him. Go, boy. Travel far and wide, search for friends. Those who also carry eggs and creatures of great power. Build your army and then take back the kingdom from the Dark Prince."
The Prince's voice was getting weak and the boy was hovering close to hear his words.
"Boy, tell me your name so that I may bless your journey when I am in the sky."
"M-my name is Eriik Marson," the boy said, trembling.
"Eriik Marson, have courage. Take back the kingdom."
Yurrick Aurion's last weak breath streamed from his nostrols. The boy, Eriik Marson, shook for a moment then became violently ill. After a few moments, the nausea passed and Eriik straightened. He glanced at the dead man, then the small stone.
"What are you?" he asked, reaching over and picking it up. He touched it to his cheek, pleased at the cold feeling against his skin.
I am the Savior of Aurion, said a small voice in the back of his head. He paused, staring at the silvery-grey rock. A spark of courage made him stand and pocket the stone.
"I better get moving," he said to himself, "Heavens only know what I've gotten into."
