The young Elf Flar shifted uncomfortably. It was stifling hot in his captain of the guards (why did the commander call him that, he wasn't captain, he was just a guard. But then, everyone was called that) uniform, despite the oncoming autumn. And the helmet sat heavily on his head. He shifted again, looking anxiously for the next guard to come and relieve him. He stamped one of his booted feet. His shift was over an hour ago. But he couldn't very well leave his post without another uniformed guard taking over. Not if he wanted to stay a 'captain of the guard'. He rubbed his hands together in frustration. These hands told the tale of a lifetime of swordsmanship. Rough and scarred, they showed all the mistakes, victories, defeats that he had himself to thank for. He learned from these hands, and honored them. With a sigh of relief, he waved to a jogging form, who had come to take over the post. His acquaintance, a slightly younger boy Nor, came hustling up.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just caught up in the whirl of things, first I helped in the kitchen, then I went to help the gardener with this really big load of fertilizer, after that I…" Nor was quickly explaining in his odd tone of voice. Flar found it necessary to interject.
"It's alright Nor. Just take your position now, I'm about ready to fall, I'm so hot." Nor nodded sheepishly, wringing his just-as-rough hands together.
"Please don't tell the captain?" he asked meekly.
"Don't worry, I won't. No one will be the wiser." Flar assured him.
"Thank you, thank you!"
"Don't even worry about it Nor." Flar said, walking off.
He sighed in content when he stripped off the extra layer of heavy armor. Without it, the night was cool and refreshing. Odd that his joy (fighting, being honored, living to serve, ect, ect.) could also be his discomfort. He peeled off the rest of the uniform, including, with the slightest hint of reluctance, his great broadsword. Holding it tenderly, he thought of the (WARNING: Stereotype inspiration ahead!) man who had previously owned this magnificent beauty. A great, tall Elf. His father…
A large stallion reared up, screaming defiance to the saddle and halter held by a trembling stable hand. Mia ran up, snatching the equipment from the stunned boy.
"Not very useful today, are we?" she hissed, thrusting the tackle into the hands of another, then running to the bucking horse. Grabbing a handful of it's mane, she threw herself upon the back, stomach lurching as the black body pranced franticly around. She stroked the fine neck, cooing to the beast. It stopped its nervous bucking, calming down to a slow, circular walk.
"Now hand me the halter." Mia commanded, sliding off the horse. Soon enough, they had the angry beast all dressed for riding. Mia pushed the bangs of her short-cut blueish hair (based off the Flame Champion card. I don't care what other people say, she's a girl!) out of her eyes. The horse really was a beauty. Even when it stepped on her foot. But that was what the steel boots were for.
Author's Note: Okay, one more chapter of the introducing and we're home free. I know having too many characters can be a bad thing, but I needed to create the band of miscreants (see the blahdely blah blah in the first chapter), and to have a band of miscreants, you need miscreants! Did that even make sense? Oh well v.v . Nothing matters. Well that's a lie. ^-^ I have no clue what I'm trying to say…
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just caught up in the whirl of things, first I helped in the kitchen, then I went to help the gardener with this really big load of fertilizer, after that I…" Nor was quickly explaining in his odd tone of voice. Flar found it necessary to interject.
"It's alright Nor. Just take your position now, I'm about ready to fall, I'm so hot." Nor nodded sheepishly, wringing his just-as-rough hands together.
"Please don't tell the captain?" he asked meekly.
"Don't worry, I won't. No one will be the wiser." Flar assured him.
"Thank you, thank you!"
"Don't even worry about it Nor." Flar said, walking off.
He sighed in content when he stripped off the extra layer of heavy armor. Without it, the night was cool and refreshing. Odd that his joy (fighting, being honored, living to serve, ect, ect.) could also be his discomfort. He peeled off the rest of the uniform, including, with the slightest hint of reluctance, his great broadsword. Holding it tenderly, he thought of the (WARNING: Stereotype inspiration ahead!) man who had previously owned this magnificent beauty. A great, tall Elf. His father…
A large stallion reared up, screaming defiance to the saddle and halter held by a trembling stable hand. Mia ran up, snatching the equipment from the stunned boy.
"Not very useful today, are we?" she hissed, thrusting the tackle into the hands of another, then running to the bucking horse. Grabbing a handful of it's mane, she threw herself upon the back, stomach lurching as the black body pranced franticly around. She stroked the fine neck, cooing to the beast. It stopped its nervous bucking, calming down to a slow, circular walk.
"Now hand me the halter." Mia commanded, sliding off the horse. Soon enough, they had the angry beast all dressed for riding. Mia pushed the bangs of her short-cut blueish hair (based off the Flame Champion card. I don't care what other people say, she's a girl!) out of her eyes. The horse really was a beauty. Even when it stepped on her foot. But that was what the steel boots were for.
Author's Note: Okay, one more chapter of the introducing and we're home free. I know having too many characters can be a bad thing, but I needed to create the band of miscreants (see the blahdely blah blah in the first chapter), and to have a band of miscreants, you need miscreants! Did that even make sense? Oh well v.v . Nothing matters. Well that's a lie. ^-^ I have no clue what I'm trying to say…