Author's Note: Alright, thanks to the two reviewers, that was very kind of you. I'll take that about to long sentences in consideration. You might still find some long sentences in this chapter, mainly because I felt like it was one sentence, but it might be possible to change. I have that thing that I've checked it to the extent of my abilities but another person's point of view could help improve. This is NOT Beta'd, although I'm open to that. Enjoy!
Chapter 1 - Rain
High Up in the Mountains of Rain and Night.
A set of feet softly padded over the rocky undergrounds, the small stones and pebbles barely touched by the small sturdy boots, and the sturdy yet flexible fabric of a long brown tunic swayed gently to the rhythm of the movement. The long elegant legs connecting the boots to the tunic were covered in a tight dark brown pair of trousers.
The figure stopped suddenly and froze in place, ears twitched at the sound of twigs breaking to the right. Then at a speed that could challenge that of light, the creature had sprung high up in the thick sturdy and worn pine tree, now balancing on one of the higher branches, eyes scanning the underground for the other intruder.
A small movement caught the creature's attention. A thorn bush rustled, before the head of a doe became visible, a tiny hand covered in a finger-less glove slowly inched its way to the hilt of a small throwing knife, and wrapped around it, slowly retracting it from its case. The movement became hesitant and the creature briefly closed her eyes and gulped in a deep breath. To then flick it's wrist and throw the knife straight into the heart of the deer; the doe's eyes went wide and before realization hit, her legs buckled and she thudded softly into the ground. A single line of blood seeped out of the wound.
The predator hopped down from the branch, crouching down low and scanning the surroundings once more, before then gently and silently inching towards the deer. Stopping right before her fallen pray; her hand stretched out and grabbed the hilt of the knife, twisting it, causing one last screech to escape from it's throat and echo across the plain. The knife was pulled out and wiped across the sandy underground, before being returned to it's position on the belt.
The petite hand swept over the deer's head, closing the penetrating eyes, and a sigh escaped from her mouth, she hated killing deer, especially this time of year. Hunting in the season of spring always brought along consequences, killing any adult animal would result in an orphaned young that could not yet fend for itself. However, consequences of not killing any animals were even more disastrous. No food for her clan would result in starvation, and meat was the only steady source of nutrition, as the underground was not steady enough for reliable agriculture.
Carefully lifting up the carcass, she fled the scene. Keeping a steady pace she maneuvered herself along the path between the tough undergrowth, the fabric of her tunic strong enough to remain unharmed by the spiky twigs. She passed a couple of worn pine trees, and she had to climb over several clusters of rocks.
Suddenly the undergrowth thinned out, several cut down tree trunks were visible, and most of the bushed had been damaged by knives, the dry inner twigs having been removed. The mountainous terrain surrounding her blocked most of the far distance view, but the smell of smoke alerted her to her nearby camping. She heard a rustle and her head snapped up from the ground as she froze. Her eyes instantly darted toward the nearer tree tops.
She released the breath she'd been holding when she saw a member of her clan positioned high up in the tree tops, guarding the perimeter of the camp. Her pace quickened as the realization hit, why was the perimeter back? The perimeter had been discarded a while back due to it being unnecessary.
As she hurried on, the bustling sounds of the camp could be heard. The laughter of the smaller kids, the clang of weapons as the males practiced, the gossiping of the older ladies. More smells were added to that of the smoke, boiled soup, roasted meat.
She reached the edge of the camp and passed a set of guards, wearing an large axe and a small rounded circular shield with the emblem of the clan painted on in silver and forest green. A large silver cloud on a forest green background, smaller areas of silver were falling from the cloud as rain.
She kept walking, dodging and evading the other people of the clan, she passed the large tent made of sturdy brown fabric, walked around the shelters with weapon racks until she reached the center of the camp. She handed the carcass over to a cook, and turned away quickly so that she did not have to see the slaughtering process that never failed to make her stomach go queasy.
She rapidly walked away towards her own tent when her name was called, "Mirre!", another female caught up with her.
"There's humans in the mountains!" she squealed out in delight, hopping up and down enthusiastically.
"Humans! Here in the mountains! Can you believe it?"
Mirre nodded her head slightly not really listening to her friends, as she has more pressuring matters on her mind.
"Damion saw them. Like us, they are. Mistook them for allies, but understand him they did not. Damion was having a conversation with them, and then they started yelling at each other in this deep manner. Like the grunting of the Wargals, only less. Moving their lips to make different sound, just like us." her friend kept talking on, recounting the story she had probably been told by another clan member, who had been told by another clan member and so on.
"Then a couple of Wargals attacked Damion but he killed them. The Humans were also fighting, but slow they were. Couldn't stand a chance against the Wargals. A few of them were dead, others then tried to attack Damion, got the wounds to prove it, some of them ran away. Damion couldn't find them though. Which is why the guards are up, don't want them to try and harm the rest of the clan. Not that they stand a chance."
Sometime during the rambling, Mirre had stopped and turned to look at her friend. Genuinely interested in what the gossiping girl had to say.
"Thala! The washing has to be done!" a loud voice yelled from somewhere, and Mirre's friend stopped talking.
"You, Mirre, are so lucky. I wish I had a brother that taught me how to handle a weapon, then my mum might allow me to go hunt instead of staying at camp and doing all the chores." Thala waved at her friend, whom still hadn't uttered a word, before running off to go help her mother.
Mirre hurriedly ran past the other towns people, dodging the barrels of food and the rack with axes and shields. She arrived at one of the smaller tents and slipped inside, the dark tent was lit up by a small fire located in the center, a wooden frame with a small mattress of dry grass was located against the far side of the tent, packed warmly in with blankets to isolate from the outside cold.
Two bed rolls were spread out on top, a small pan of soup was prattling over the fire, a long with a kettle filled with warm water. The a low wooden desk on the right side of the tent was littered with paper, and a figure was crouched over them, reading.
Mirre walked over to the bed and sat down, looking into the fire in silence, deep in thought. Humans had entered the territory that they for so long had left neglected, an area that they for so long had been afraid of, it would be uncharted territory for them, they'd come in a large group for safety, or they send a few to investigate.
The humans must have known of Wargals; since the Wargals had tried to leave the mountains previously, under the disguise of fighting for Morgarath. They fought for Morgarath solely for the reason of having no intelligent leader, and no other land to live on. The Wargals of the Clan of Night, had been given a fatal blow by the Whirlwinds of the Clan of Rain. The quick humanoids of her people had struck over 20 years ago. They'd killed the Highest ranked Commander, the only one that might have led the Wargals to victory and ruling over the whole territory of the plains.
The Wargals had then slipped into Chaos, Morgarath seized control, but his intentions of leading the Wargals was not to get control of the whole Mountains, no he merely trained them with the skill of wielding swords, a skill that now often caused great harm to attacked Whirlwinds. He'd made them neglect defending their widespread territory, and the Whirlwinds took over most of it, except for the small area surrounding the Black castle of Morgarath.
Now, the Wargals were on warpath, fighting to take back the land that was once theirs, they slaughtered most of the Whirlwinds in a wave of rage, and the last small groups of females and children had retreated into small well-protected camps that the Wargals would not attack, whilst the males were out to fight a battle.
The conflict had raged for ages, but either way, both clans, both Whirlwinds and Wargals would attack them, Wargals in revenge, and her clan for one other reason, slaughter them just because they could be dangerous. Kill them because they were unknown, because everyone fears the unknown.
Author's Note 2: WOW3... Long Chapter... Reviews and Creative Critisism are Welcome.
I do know that the Ranger's haven't had an appearance yet, but I might make the next chapter in their POINT OF VIEW. NOT promising anything.
Yeah, it was a fast update, don't expect every time to be like this... It'll not be scheduled either since I work when I have inspiration and not on a strict schedule...
BYE