SabrinaLove
kickbox
This will take a few posts in this thread for the whole story. It's a terrible title but I just can't find my muse for that. I'll take any suggestions a reader wants to give! The genre is fantasy. Be gentle dear reviewer!
Wow.
Gerald couldn’t think of anything except this single word: Wow. As an eight-year-old born and raised in the Depths, he had never seen or heard of anyone ever doing what he saw. No one in his memory was that strong.
Gerald stood about four feet tall and had a mop of strawberry blonde hair that covered his misty gray eyes. His mother was constantly after him with shearing clippers to no avail. His hair simply grew too fast. Gerald’s hair really didn’t bother him. He simply accepted it as apart of him like his multitude of freckles. Gerald brushed the hair out of his eyes to get a better look at what he was watching.
Gerald was watching a man bend a plow. Gerald watched the man crumple the plow into a ball and he heard the crowd murmur around him. He caught bits of conversation like “that’s Oth, the cleric” and “those are the Heroes of Hale.”
Gerald knew the name “Heroes of Hale”. He and his friends played warriors often and Heroes of Hale was their current favorite. Everyone in town praised the names of the warriors who eradicated the undead that had plagued their city.
He had never seen the Heroes before now. His friends said the Heroes of Hale were nine feet tall with heaven’s horns on their head and had eyes that shot fireballs. These men weren’t nine feet tall and it didn’t look like their eyes did anything but see. Just incase, Gerald looked around to see if anything was on fire. He was mildly disappointed when he couldn’t spot any blazes. He looked back at the man bending the plow and saw a regular sized man in traveling clothes. He stood about 5’ 10” with blonde hair and blue eyes. He was a lean man but emitted a strength that would cause most men to think twice before picking a fight with him.
The hesitancy on the part of men to cause trouble could also have been caused by glancing at Oth’s large friend. Oth’s friend, Krum, stood almost seven feet tall and his multitudes of large muscles rippled with his every move. Simply running his hand through his long brown hair showed off at least twenty different chiseled muscles. Most people would have passed Krum off as rather slow because of his size, but one look in the man’s dark eyes belied intelligence not usually present in large beings. Krum seemed impatient but amused by Oth’s show of strength.
Another man was with Oth and Krum but he didn’t match the description of any of the other Heroes of Hale. The third man was a half elf about 5’ 5” with a lean build and a bow strung across his back. He seemed more impatient than Krum and a little jumpy. His eyes were dark also and a light mane flowed gently down his back.
Looking back at Oth, Gerald was a little confused about why Oth was bending a perfectly good plow. He had watched Oth storm out of the tavern with purpose in his eye. Gerald had stared as Oth strode past him and grabbed the plow. Now he was watching in awe as Oth threw the plow over his shoulder. Gerald felt the vibrations from the impact. The plow hit the ground and left a depression in the ground where it landed.
Gerald stared as Oth addressed the crowd, “This,” he said indicating the plow, “was done with the strength of Krunth. He is the God of strength and might.”
Oth’s eyes swept the crowd and stopped on Gerald. Gerald was staring with his mouth and eyes wide open. Oth approached Gerald and hunched down to Gerald’s height. Gerald almost stepped backwards in awe but realized people were watching so he held his ground. Oth smiled in recognition of Gerald’s inner battle.
Oth spoke kindly to Gerald saying, “What is your name?”
“Gerald.”
“Remember, Gerald, what you saw was done with the might of Krunth. Take this to help you remember.”
Oth handed Gerald a small medallion of wood with an image of eight evenly spaced arrows pointing out from a center point burned on its surface. Oth also handed Gerald a small book. Oth mussed Gerald’s hair and stood.
Gerald muttered a thank you as Oth turned and walked back to his companions. Gerald fingered the medallion as he watched the Heroes walk out of his town, Meridian.
Wow.
Gerald couldn’t think of anything except this single word: Wow. As an eight-year-old born and raised in the Depths, he had never seen or heard of anyone ever doing what he saw. No one in his memory was that strong.
Gerald stood about four feet tall and had a mop of strawberry blonde hair that covered his misty gray eyes. His mother was constantly after him with shearing clippers to no avail. His hair simply grew too fast. Gerald’s hair really didn’t bother him. He simply accepted it as apart of him like his multitude of freckles. Gerald brushed the hair out of his eyes to get a better look at what he was watching.
Gerald was watching a man bend a plow. Gerald watched the man crumple the plow into a ball and he heard the crowd murmur around him. He caught bits of conversation like “that’s Oth, the cleric” and “those are the Heroes of Hale.”
Gerald knew the name “Heroes of Hale”. He and his friends played warriors often and Heroes of Hale was their current favorite. Everyone in town praised the names of the warriors who eradicated the undead that had plagued their city.
He had never seen the Heroes before now. His friends said the Heroes of Hale were nine feet tall with heaven’s horns on their head and had eyes that shot fireballs. These men weren’t nine feet tall and it didn’t look like their eyes did anything but see. Just incase, Gerald looked around to see if anything was on fire. He was mildly disappointed when he couldn’t spot any blazes. He looked back at the man bending the plow and saw a regular sized man in traveling clothes. He stood about 5’ 10” with blonde hair and blue eyes. He was a lean man but emitted a strength that would cause most men to think twice before picking a fight with him.
The hesitancy on the part of men to cause trouble could also have been caused by glancing at Oth’s large friend. Oth’s friend, Krum, stood almost seven feet tall and his multitudes of large muscles rippled with his every move. Simply running his hand through his long brown hair showed off at least twenty different chiseled muscles. Most people would have passed Krum off as rather slow because of his size, but one look in the man’s dark eyes belied intelligence not usually present in large beings. Krum seemed impatient but amused by Oth’s show of strength.
Another man was with Oth and Krum but he didn’t match the description of any of the other Heroes of Hale. The third man was a half elf about 5’ 5” with a lean build and a bow strung across his back. He seemed more impatient than Krum and a little jumpy. His eyes were dark also and a light mane flowed gently down his back.
Looking back at Oth, Gerald was a little confused about why Oth was bending a perfectly good plow. He had watched Oth storm out of the tavern with purpose in his eye. Gerald had stared as Oth strode past him and grabbed the plow. Now he was watching in awe as Oth threw the plow over his shoulder. Gerald felt the vibrations from the impact. The plow hit the ground and left a depression in the ground where it landed.
Gerald stared as Oth addressed the crowd, “This,” he said indicating the plow, “was done with the strength of Krunth. He is the God of strength and might.”
Oth’s eyes swept the crowd and stopped on Gerald. Gerald was staring with his mouth and eyes wide open. Oth approached Gerald and hunched down to Gerald’s height. Gerald almost stepped backwards in awe but realized people were watching so he held his ground. Oth smiled in recognition of Gerald’s inner battle.
Oth spoke kindly to Gerald saying, “What is your name?”
“Gerald.”
“Remember, Gerald, what you saw was done with the might of Krunth. Take this to help you remember.”
Oth handed Gerald a small medallion of wood with an image of eight evenly spaced arrows pointing out from a center point burned on its surface. Oth also handed Gerald a small book. Oth mussed Gerald’s hair and stood.
Gerald muttered a thank you as Oth turned and walked back to his companions. Gerald fingered the medallion as he watched the Heroes walk out of his town, Meridian.