These characters are my own. These races are my own. Everything in here is my own! I have taken nothing from anyone, except advice. If I discover people attempting to spread this Prologue out as their own, I will prosecute them to the fullest extent of the law (not very much unfortunately). This is a novel in progress, I will upload test chapters and various ideas I want to test in order to discover the ideas and thoughts of the Fantasy Reading Community. I greatly appreciate all reviews, though I would be greatly appreciative if you left CONSTRUCTIVE criticism and not just useless comments like "It was good." or "OMG u f'ing sux! j00 r gay!" because neither help me, though the latter does lower the IQ of anyone typing it. (Not proven but hey... who knows?) On with the story! Or at least... the start of something more...
Prologue
Lonre blinked his eyes against the harsh red sunlight streaming through the openings in the barred window high on the wall opposite him. Quickly he takes a look about the room he was in. Across the room is a table covered in various devices, likely instruments of torture. The wall he is on has several evenly placed sets of manacles for the wrists and ankles, several bodies still hanging there along side him, each in various stages of decomposition. A large oak door on the right side wall seems to be the only way in or out of the room.
"Heh, he did wake up. I didn't thinksss he'd make it but I guesss I shouldn't complain, it just meansss more fun for me."
Quickly Lonre looked about the room for the origin of the scratchy voice.
"Who's there? What do you want with me? Where am I?"
"I am Dartha Hlaa. I wantsss you to sscream, the othersss might want sssomething elsse from you. And finally, you are insss the torture room of my massster, Miklu Sgin."
"What does he want with me?" "I dunno… I wasss told 'Tormentsss the wretch.' So that'sss what I do. Dartha is a good Warn," hissed the voice. Suddenly, there was the sound of slithering in the shadows as a hideous creature came into view. A humanoid with 4 muscular arms, it was covered in slimy scales and the odd patches of fur and feathers as if they were put on as an after thought. A sinister smile played across a lipless mouth revealing several rows of long dagger-like teeth. Two nostrils on the flat of its face flared at regular intervals and eyes deep within its head stared at him unblinkingly.
Lonre stared back at Dartha defiantly, refusing to look away before his captor. Dartha simply emitted a low guttural rumble that could pass as a laugh or a cough, opened the door, yelled in some devilish language, and two short and stocky goblins came into the room bearing a large iron tub filled with ice.
"What are you going to do to me, Dartha, bash my head in with an ice block? Under the heat of this blasted sun it wouldn't feel too bad at all," declared Lonre.
"Oh no, not something so nice," Dartha spat. With a quick hand gesture from the Warn, the goblins unchained Lonre, and then slammed his head through the top covering of ice into the freezing water. They held him under until his body fell slack and then pulled him back up, placed him back in his manacles in line with the burning sun, cackled in happiness, and then, with their iron tub in tow, left Lonre with his tormentor.