Civilization...I do not think it means what you think it means...
As I fled my tribes Hold, the cries of my Father's hunters were quickly swallowed by the gathering storm. Once the lights of the tribal hold faded from sight I turned from my original course. Rather than the trading posts to the south, I would make for Duran Keep. The old warrior who was my first mentor in the arts of warfare spoke often of Duran, and it's leader Duran the Bold, who had carved civilization from the wilderness. Surely there I could find a teacher and companions who would share my goals.
Three weeks hard travel Brought me to the Southern Marches. Passing along the edges of a deep forest and skirting a range of large hills, I caught my first glimpse of Duran Keep. It was a sight to inspire awe, why it must be large enough to house all the Norther Tribes.
Reaching the gates, I marveled at the wonders before my eyes. Truly Erathis had blessed these people! Why, their guards are so secure they feel no need to unsheathe their weapons while on duty. How different from the Tribal lands where a band of orcs could seemingly spring from the ether.
Entering the gates, I beheld another wonder, a market with food enough, and more, to feed all! I asked the guard directions to the temple of Erathis, and was offended by his obvious amusement while answering. I decided to let the insult pass, as I felt great need to reach the temple. There would be time enough later to discuss proper respect for a warrior of the Norther Tribes. Besides, a wagon was approaching the gates, and the guard's attention was already turned away. I hurried along the paths vowing to return when I was finished at the temple, to correct the guard's attitude, and perhaps explore the bounty of the market.
I was just leaving the market square when a sudden shout went up at the gate! Turning quickly, I saw a group of kobolds springing from the wagon at the gate. The nearby townsfolk began running from the sudden threat.
So, here we sit licking our wounds and contemplating our next step. As I gather my strength I can only think to myself "I must have been mistaken, or someone lied to me. Things like this should not happen in a civilized area." A groan escapes my lips as I stand, and take a firmer grasp on the haft of my axe. The nature of civilization can be debated later, hopefully in a warm tavern over a tankard of mead.
Three weeks hard travel Brought me to the Southern Marches. Passing along the edges of a deep forest and skirting a range of large hills, I caught my first glimpse of Duran Keep. It was a sight to inspire awe, why it must be large enough to house all the Norther Tribes.
Reaching the gates, I marveled at the wonders before my eyes. Truly Erathis had blessed these people! Why, their guards are so secure they feel no need to unsheathe their weapons while on duty. How different from the Tribal lands where a band of orcs could seemingly spring from the ether.
Entering the gates, I beheld another wonder, a market with food enough, and more, to feed all! I asked the guard directions to the temple of Erathis, and was offended by his obvious amusement while answering. I decided to let the insult pass, as I felt great need to reach the temple. There would be time enough later to discuss proper respect for a warrior of the Norther Tribes. Besides, a wagon was approaching the gates, and the guard's attention was already turned away. I hurried along the paths vowing to return when I was finished at the temple, to correct the guard's attitude, and perhaps explore the bounty of the market.
I was just leaving the market square when a sudden shout went up at the gate! Turning quickly, I saw a group of kobolds springing from the wagon at the gate. The nearby townsfolk began running from the sudden threat.
So, here we sit licking our wounds and contemplating our next step. As I gather my strength I can only think to myself "I must have been mistaken, or someone lied to me. Things like this should not happen in a civilized area." A groan escapes my lips as I stand, and take a firmer grasp on the haft of my axe. The nature of civilization can be debated later, hopefully in a warm tavern over a tankard of mead.
Viewable by: Public
Posted on September 06, 2008 13:29
3 comments
