imported>An Adventurer |
imported>Arkalor's Bot |
| Line 1: |
Line 1: |
| {{Microsoft Zone
| | #REDIRECT[[Microsoft Zone Archive/Player Chronicles/Silveran]] |
| | Link = http://zone.msn.com/asheronscall/ASHEsilveran.asp
| |
| | Date =
| |
| | Title = Silveran
| |
| | Text = [[File:0x06001183.png|left]]
| |
| <div style="margin-left:15%"><i>by Alisdair d'Isle</i>
| |
| <br><font color=#FFFFFF>'''Part one: Contrasts'''</font>
| |
| <br>Ice clad mountains. Deep, wooded Glens. Brooding, gray sea. Emerald mountain lakes. Silveran. Far away now . . .
| |
| <br><br>Alrik moved away from the railing of the boat and settled himself on a heavy coil of rope. His large, two-handed sword, normally sheathed on his back, was securely strapped to his pack on the deck. All was safe enough here. The progress of the barge-like vessel was painfully slow up the Canfeld river, providing little new to see of the Aluvian landscape. Farmland and meadows, woods and rolling hills. All very pleasant and pastoral, to be sure, but it lacked the intensity and drama of Silveran. He settled back and indulged himself in recollections of home . . .
| |
| <br><br>. . . an elaborately carved feasting hall of his clan. He steps out of the bitter north wind and into the crowded, noisy warmth and glowing firelight. Settling comfortably into a fur-covered chair, he is handed a mug of mead by Thorfinn's beautiful daughter. A smile, a promise of things to come. Silence falls as the bard begins the evening's tale of heroism, tragedy, laughter and tears. A voice of lyrical beauty and power, befits the tale.
| |
| <br><br>Enough of that! He chided himself with a grim smile, pulling himself back to the sluggish river and slowly passing landscape. Beautiful in its own way, of course. And he had chosen to come, without hesitation, when requested by his father. The mighty clan chief needed an emissary, a messenger, an observer. His elder brothers may be his match in arms, but they had not the skills necessary for the task. Knowledge of these foreign lands, diplomacy, tact, the quickness of wit to react to the unexpected. A scholar-warrior his father had called him. Alrik would have preferred warrior-scholar, but no matter. He was chosen and he was eager to go. For, unlike the majority of his kindred, he suffered from wanderlust. Despite his intense love of his homeland, he had a desire to see new lands and discover new wonders. Part of his scholarly instinct, no doubt. Still, it was a unique trait among the Silverans.
| |
| | |
| ____________
| |
| | |
| * [[Player Chronicles|<font color=#FFFFCC><u>Back to Player Chronicles</u></font>]]
| |
| </div>
| |
| }}
| |
| [[Category:Fan Fiction]]
| |
