Edward Kann@StoryART
First Post
The Dread Legion Advances...
The wind snapping the tattered window coverings of the window to my Father's old room, brought me to my senses. It was early in the morning and the weak glow of light filtering through the ever present atmospheric dust cast the room into rust colored shadows around me.
I pulled myself up and swung both feet out of bed to stand and walk to the window. I leaned outward, a strong naked torso half visible out of the narrow stone window of the room and gazed out over the capital.
The brisk air helped to clear cobwebs from my head and bring me to my senses. I leaned a broad bare back against the cold, gritty stone railing of the window and looked back into the shadows of my Father's room. So many of our things were still here. So many of my Father's old things. This would be the last morning I would see or smell or touch any of them. By the middle of the day all this would be packed off and sold to raise a little more silver and maybe a few gold to carry in my pocket to my first post.
I shivered. The room already seemed foriegn and I felt like a ghost looking into it. My bare, dark brown skin ran with goose bumps in the draft and I turned to look back out to look out one final time from the view of Father's window.
The city was shrugging off the hang over of the previous evening and seemed to be slowly opening one eye and mouthing the foul smelling yawn of an alley drunkard as it stirred.
The usual light stench of trash heaps, rotten produce and fish gut rose up beneath the stronger aroma of the morning market. The smell of fresh cut flowers covered everything below, like the perfume of a Gray District whore.
Sickly sweet and meant to hide the lack of bathing. Many years ago the Emperor had decreed a law mandating the placement of the flower stalls setting them up throughout the city in abundance. It did not matter that many of the flower sellers did not sell their wares for they served to freshen the air and anyway they were manned by the lowest of the Elf slaves.
"Well Father." I said, reaching for my clothing.
"Well room...my Mother whoever you might have been for I never knew you.."
I felt the need to say something in the moment. To draw comfort from the sound of my own voice. The slate of the stone floor felt familiar and cool beneath my bare feet and as I sat on the edge of the enormous dark wood four poster I began pulling on my best leggings, jerkin and doublet.
"Room..you've been a good room. Thank you proud ghost of my heroic Father for watching over your son and keeping all of our things safe in this place."
"Thank you for providing for me. For the gift of your Legion pay that has raised and fed and paid for lessons and training over all of these years..."
The room was quiet of course. No ghost of Father appeared to extend a blessing from the beyond. Not that I had expected anything of the sort. Father was too proud for such theatricals even from beyond the grave.
I let out a long slow breath and pushed my hands, large strong hands, powerful; everyone said they were like Father's, up through the heavy coiled hair that was black coppery gold in a shower down the back of my neck. The hair would be gone by the end of the day as well.
I pulled on my boots and buttoned them up the side. I paused for the barest second and then strode forth, not bothering to close the heavy wood and iron door behind me. Farinis the Landlord was responsible for looking after both me and my Father's belongings and would be lumbering up the narrow stone stairwell muttering about the festering gout that plagued his knee to sort out what remained for the Halfling rummage sellers.
The soles of my boots struck cobblestones and suddenly the entire known world was spread out before me. I turned up the hill and though the streets were familiar and I had stalked them on ten thousand different mornings, somehow -I- was no longer familiar. Somehow the world had changed and felt new as though the decision to set off this morning had altered everything; not only my immediate future but it was as if I had slid sideways into another place altogether.
Up long twisting stone steps I strode, up winding mazes of narrow streets where I passed a stooped chimney sweep dousing the street lamps in the morning's half darkness with a tall wooden pole and iron snuffing cap. Onward and ever upward my breathe showing in wisps of the cold and damp. Walking until the muscles of my legs began to complain and cramp with the effort. Street after street, league after league the City of Doors continued to unfold beneath my feet. Three hours later, I stopped to stretch my tired muscles and there on the streets above me I began to make out the golden light reflected off of tall polished domes of brass crowned with a hundred snapping banners. The Halls of the Order of Sorcery where I would meet Officer Sorrow who was my sponsor and The Commander of Souls, the Commanding Officer in charge of the Sixteenth Dread Legion, my new home.
The wind snapping the tattered window coverings of the window to my Father's old room, brought me to my senses. It was early in the morning and the weak glow of light filtering through the ever present atmospheric dust cast the room into rust colored shadows around me.
I pulled myself up and swung both feet out of bed to stand and walk to the window. I leaned outward, a strong naked torso half visible out of the narrow stone window of the room and gazed out over the capital.
The brisk air helped to clear cobwebs from my head and bring me to my senses. I leaned a broad bare back against the cold, gritty stone railing of the window and looked back into the shadows of my Father's room. So many of our things were still here. So many of my Father's old things. This would be the last morning I would see or smell or touch any of them. By the middle of the day all this would be packed off and sold to raise a little more silver and maybe a few gold to carry in my pocket to my first post.
I shivered. The room already seemed foriegn and I felt like a ghost looking into it. My bare, dark brown skin ran with goose bumps in the draft and I turned to look back out to look out one final time from the view of Father's window.
The city was shrugging off the hang over of the previous evening and seemed to be slowly opening one eye and mouthing the foul smelling yawn of an alley drunkard as it stirred.
The usual light stench of trash heaps, rotten produce and fish gut rose up beneath the stronger aroma of the morning market. The smell of fresh cut flowers covered everything below, like the perfume of a Gray District whore.
Sickly sweet and meant to hide the lack of bathing. Many years ago the Emperor had decreed a law mandating the placement of the flower stalls setting them up throughout the city in abundance. It did not matter that many of the flower sellers did not sell their wares for they served to freshen the air and anyway they were manned by the lowest of the Elf slaves.
"Well Father." I said, reaching for my clothing.
"Well room...my Mother whoever you might have been for I never knew you.."
I felt the need to say something in the moment. To draw comfort from the sound of my own voice. The slate of the stone floor felt familiar and cool beneath my bare feet and as I sat on the edge of the enormous dark wood four poster I began pulling on my best leggings, jerkin and doublet.
"Room..you've been a good room. Thank you proud ghost of my heroic Father for watching over your son and keeping all of our things safe in this place."
"Thank you for providing for me. For the gift of your Legion pay that has raised and fed and paid for lessons and training over all of these years..."
The room was quiet of course. No ghost of Father appeared to extend a blessing from the beyond. Not that I had expected anything of the sort. Father was too proud for such theatricals even from beyond the grave.
I let out a long slow breath and pushed my hands, large strong hands, powerful; everyone said they were like Father's, up through the heavy coiled hair that was black coppery gold in a shower down the back of my neck. The hair would be gone by the end of the day as well.
I pulled on my boots and buttoned them up the side. I paused for the barest second and then strode forth, not bothering to close the heavy wood and iron door behind me. Farinis the Landlord was responsible for looking after both me and my Father's belongings and would be lumbering up the narrow stone stairwell muttering about the festering gout that plagued his knee to sort out what remained for the Halfling rummage sellers.
The soles of my boots struck cobblestones and suddenly the entire known world was spread out before me. I turned up the hill and though the streets were familiar and I had stalked them on ten thousand different mornings, somehow -I- was no longer familiar. Somehow the world had changed and felt new as though the decision to set off this morning had altered everything; not only my immediate future but it was as if I had slid sideways into another place altogether.
Up long twisting stone steps I strode, up winding mazes of narrow streets where I passed a stooped chimney sweep dousing the street lamps in the morning's half darkness with a tall wooden pole and iron snuffing cap. Onward and ever upward my breathe showing in wisps of the cold and damp. Walking until the muscles of my legs began to complain and cramp with the effort. Street after street, league after league the City of Doors continued to unfold beneath my feet. Three hours later, I stopped to stretch my tired muscles and there on the streets above me I began to make out the golden light reflected off of tall polished domes of brass crowned with a hundred snapping banners. The Halls of the Order of Sorcery where I would meet Officer Sorrow who was my sponsor and The Commander of Souls, the Commanding Officer in charge of the Sixteenth Dread Legion, my new home.
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