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[Show Us Your Domain] Misthaven (pending)

Across the county, autumn seeped in, the first few leaves turning shades of yellow and orange, carpeting patches of the forest floor where mixed leaf met with the soft warm fallings of pine trees. The sky was clear yet a gentle mist hung around the valley that gave the region its name.

Sunlight glinted off the magnificent tall white walled city of Misthold, nestled against the slope of a mountain. Complete with slim white towers dotted along its walls, the city was both imposing and beautiful.

Down below and to the west, a sweeping wide valley opened out and a river snaked its way lazily through the tall green grasses. Wild flowers, a myriad of colour, were speckled with butterflies. Cattle, sheep and other animals grazed freely over the valley floor. Small farms sprung out of the grassland in tight clusters complete with small picket fences, but there was little sign of life in the local farms.

Throughout the valley, well-travelled dusty trails were filled with weary travellers, yet there was an air of excitement among them. Perhaps a sense of hope. For many merchants, this was an opportunity not to be missed. Many were the laden wagons headed up the roads to the city, loaded with wares. Fine wines and ales, clothing, arms and armour, inventions and oddities, it could all be found working its way along those long dusty roads. Many travellers wore simple clothes from the local region. Worn or dirty rough tunics and trousers, weathered cloaks with little colour but brown, blended with the dirt of the road.

Drifting to the city, it was a vast place, established thousands of years ago. It was doubted anyone knew the truth of its founding. Spires, domes, minarets, thatched roofs, tarpaulins, they could all be seen looking down from the walls of the city. Busy taverns opened their doors, as patrons flocked in. Residents took in guests. Even stables filled with the never ending flow of pilgrims. Markets teemed with life. Stalls were piled with wares as ever more merchants clamoured for space. Bright splashes of colour brought life to the crowds; fancy cloths and dyes from afar. Wealthy merchants mingled with the crowd, complete with golden jewellery and gaudy bright clothes.

Over the cobbled streets, straw could be found scattered. Loose chickens weaved hastily between travellers legs.

The smells overwhelmed. Bakeries and taverns were in perpetual and frantic motion. In small stalls, foreign traders cooked exotic foods, and local delicacies. The smells of dirt, sweat, exotic perfumes and the sheer volume of people mingled in the strong summer heat.

The noise was constant and near deafening. Countless vendors yelling over each other for trade. Conversations became increasingly loud among travellers, all vying to be heard over the din. Dogs barked, chickens clucked. Crates of wares were dropped, scuffles broke out where patrons spent all too long at the taverns, or perhaps committed a little too much of their money to gambling.

This would be the year of the Sedecim, a time all chose to celebrate their faith, form new deals, partnerships and even wed. The county was little affected by the wars of the outside world. The strange mists made the use of weapons of war impractical, and posed a unique challenge for those unfamiliar with the area attempting to navigate it. The origins of the mists were a mystery lost far in the past. Local legends spoke of great battles and beings formed of mist and shadow, but now they were little more than stories, tempting the adventurous and wistful dreamers.

One such dreamer, Bareht by name, jostled on a rickety cart, made his way slowly towards the city square. A Kypiq, his people had oft taken to the trees and despite their short stature and unusually large eyes, had a curious and adventurous spirit, often prone to daydreaming, though few of his people ventured this far into the colder northern regions.

Listening to passers-by, he gathered that a handful of the travellers had entered via the West gates which led out over the valley to the wild tundra. Apparently this was seldom heard of and worth being made a talking point. This was said to be the ancestral lands of the Brudvir, a tall strong and fearsome people known for their wolf like appearance.

His sister Tiliq nudged him. “There!” she pointed. Across the square a dark statue loomed, said to reveal a hidden potential in some who touched it.


9/18/2019 6:58:55 PM #1

Apologies for the rush job - house move, and that word count is too tight to fit in anything descriptive :)


9/27/2019 1:47:49 PM #2

NOT an entry - an earlier event:

A chill breeze stirred the air, the dried golden leaves of the forest floor whispering in brief response. Somewhere nearby, the soft murmuring of a small stream could be heard in the sudden deathly silence that followed. Woody, earthen smells of moss and dried leaves filled the air.

Reun edged forward cautiously, gazing towards the small ridge in front of him. The Hrothi elders warned of dangerous creatures out in these wilds and he knew he should not have come so far alone but his people were in need. They were desperate. He could not fail them. They were farmers and stern hardy people, yet poor hunters, being far too short and stocky to meet with much success out on the edge of the tundra.

The priests had gathered together the four families that comprised his hamlet and spoken of a divine vision, a place they must go. Times had been hard the past few years, the land cold and hard. They had been forced to desperate measures, relying on new meagre skills to survive.

A brief shift in the air disturbed his reverie and brought the smell of death. He crouched suddenly alarmed against a tree, gripping a spear that suddenly felt far too insufficient. The pounding of his heart, his slow shallow breaths suddenly seemed loud in the silence. He cursed his stupidity. He had travelled too far and was alone.

A clattering sound broke the silence. Birds a short distance scattered in panic and disappeared from view. Beads of sweat formed on his furrowed brow.

The sounds of rustling and breathing came steadily closer and clearer. He tensed, readying his weapon and holding his breath, daring to peer slowly around the tree that now offered so little comfort.

A child, barely twelve years old yet tall and muscular edged nervously between the trees, brushing his light blonde hair away from his feral amber eyes as he scanned the sky.

Reun breathed a slow sigh of relief, a sigh that was interrupted by a sudden ear piercing screech from above that set his dark curly hair on end. He peered up as a vast bird, jagged and ancient veered through the sky, its dark leathery wings in contrast to its long fat body. Its evil pointed beak swung left and right, searching until it locked on its prey. The child.

The bird angled itself to descend, sweeping in a wide circle. There was no hope of escape. Reun could see as much in the child’s eyes, yet the young boy stood his ground, a determined look in his face as he picked up a stout branch to meet his fate with courage. A single tear escaped his eye as he braced himself. Reun had heard only rare stories of these savages. They viewed his people with distain and as cowards. He was no warrior and knew in his heart that he could not save the child from such a beast, yet compassion drove him forward.

Rushing towards the child as fast as his short stature would allow, Reun unslung his shield from the strap on his back and offered it to the child as he took his place by his side. A look of wide eyed disbelief and wonder crossed the boy’s face. Nodding at Reun, he held out his open hand, requesting the spear, while gently pushing the shield back at the Hrothi.

Reun trusted the boy’s judgement though he knew little of their people, nodding and noting the sharp pointed teeth in the child’s smile as his eyes narrowed and focussed on the incoming predator. Reun braced himself silently praying for strength and calling on every ounce of his stocky body to stand firm as his raised he shield, his fear becoming silent resolve.

Time then seemed to slow in those few moments. The huge beast veered down, it’s talons outstretched, slamming into the Hrothi as if he had been stuck by a boulder, yet somehow his feet found their place as he leaned into the massive force, shifting slowly backwards from the impact. The young boy leapt to the side, twisting through the air as his spear snaked again and again into the side of the beast’s furious body in a blur, as if possessed.

Silence. In that place, in those few moments and the many moments that followed, the brotherhood of the Brudvir and Hrothi was born, and those two peoples from differing tribes and cultures made legends.


10/8/2019 5:23:22 PM #3

Replaced story. Oddly something I prepared a while back and just needed a tiny tweak. Must have had Elyria on the brain before I even selected :)


10/9/2019 9:02:56 PM #4

I liked the descriptions.


Kheg-Fourm-banner-Solaris-Confed.jpg Link to recruitment post If you meet me, have some courtesy, have some sympathy and some taste.
Use all your well-learned politesse or I'll lay your soul to waste.

10/11/2019 5:15:35 AM #5

Thanks ;)


10/13/2019 11:16:50 PM #6

Very nice writeup, especially liked the vivid description of the region before seeing it from a persons perspective, definitely a very good approach for the contests theme.

Also enjoyed the non-entry addition, wondering if there's gonna be more with related stories, at least that's what I had in mind for mine.


Shroud to The Covenant of the Veil