Young Writers Society

I Made this entire story up in my head, so I wrote it down. I plan to make it into 2 books.

One book of Lefendor.

One book of Meflin and his group.

Thanks for reading, please tell me what you think, and correct my mistakes.

Intro

The cool autumn breeze blowing threw my long copper colored hair. Laying in a meadow of telarian flowers, the grass was green, the sound of the birds singing happy love songs, and most of all, I remember her. Her bright eyes, her long brown hair, the calm but slightly wild look upon her face. Then she was gone. I was gone, where am I… who am I? I am nothing and this my friend, this is a tale of how I found myself again… A tale of pain and misery… A tale of my resurrection.

Meflin

“Master?” said the young man, barely old enough to be called a “young man”. “Master, I don’t understand the point of this. How is staring at a painting of yourself going to help me become a mage?” Annoyed but somewhat amused the ancient wizard loudly said, “First of all it will teach you patience, obviously something you lack. Second this is not just a painting of me, it’s an enchanted painting of me. If you would stop being so naïve Meflin you would see that there is an inscription on the frame.” The picture was of the wizard Emilarzor wearing a long brown cloak, holding a jeweled sword in one hand and a scroll in the other. His long white beard falling down to his belt and his shiny bald head reflecting the fire behind him. Meflin ignored the painting and focused on the dark, grey, wooden picture frame. The more intently he looked the more annoyed he became. “Master, I see no inscriptions of any kind, only knots in the wood.” Emilarzor smacked Meflin on the back of the head, causing his face to hit the painting. Ready to punch the old man in the face, Meflin whirled around yelling, “I’m tired of your crap old man!” but the old wizard was gone. Emilarzor’s deep voice echoed through the room. “Challenge me again child and you will no longer posses the ability to challenge me in the first place.” Then a solid slap on Meflin’s face, with a pouty expression he went back to studying the frame.

Hours passed, Meflin stared at the frame, but his thoughts were elsewhere. He daydreamed of beautiful women, and how he would impress them with his muscles that he had yet to acquire. He thought about the pretty black haired Fiella from the village only a day’s walk away, the village he was raised in, the very same village that didn’t even notice his existence. He thought of the old tree by his house that he used to pretend could speak with him. And he would sit there for hours deciphering images from the knots in the tree’s bark, he found dragons and unicorns, once he found one that looked like a sad face and he named it Toddy. Meflin soon realized he was trying to make images out of the knots on the dark grey frame, surrounding the old wizard’s painting. One large knot looked like an angry wolf, and another looked like the face of an elegant bald eagle. Then he saw one knot that almost frightened him, it looked like a human face with sharp teeth and goat horns, he studied it for several minutes. The booming voice of the old wizard sounded through Meflin’s head, “So you finally found the inscriptions, good for you, now find their meanings.”

A weasel and a ferret.

The small grey ferret’s beady black eyes watched the coin purse bounce upon the large man’s bottom as he walked down the dark empty street. He silently jumped up and bit the twine holding the purse, snapping it with his razor sharp teeth. The purse made a loud smack upon the dirt street. The man whirled around, a nervous look upon his face. He slowly turned about the way he was originally headed, walking a bit faster than he had been before.

The coin purse no larger than a fist, about as large as the small animal trying to drag it, but dragging it nowhere at all, sat in the middle of the dirt street, lined with dirty wooden shacks. A man wrapped in dark green and brown rags, seemed to have came from nowhere at all, only his green eyes showing through his dirty attire scooped up the purse, along with the ferret, his companion in crime.

Tilfur the thief and his little friend, Fritjof, lived in a small, make shift shack in the corner of the large, and because of the war, recently quiet city of Benril. Benril was a strictly “human only” city, except for the occasional dwarf tradesman that passed through. Surrounded by dirty huts, Benril was like a magnificent king covered in dirty rags. Its giant buildings dirty and broken from the recent war with the Varnegh, an old, brutal race which humans were attempting to erase from this world. An almost empty castle stood in the middle of Benril. The castle was white and stood as tall as a small mountain, it’s towers were tall and pointed like giant pine trees, It’s main hall filled with hundreds of red oak tables, and a thousand empty red oak chairs, all except for one, the kings dining chair, where the old, bald, king Thalen, sat alone eating salted pork.

Swords clashing, dying men screaming for help that would never come, the smell of death all around Tilfur. Tilfur slew man after man relentlessly. A loud roar and he looked up to see large teeth devouring him. Tilfur awoke with a yell, sweat covered his brow. Fritjof on his bed of dirty cloth scraps, opened one eye, and then closed it going back to sleep; he was used to Tilfur’s nightly episodes.

Tilfur slipped his dark green tunic on and pushed aside the quilt that was the entry way to his crude shack. He could hear a child’s cry in the distance, a child longing for his dead father to return home from the recent war. Tilfur wrapped his face in a dark brown cloth, and set out to steal a snack. He loathed stealing, almost as much as taking a life. In Benril, if you weren’t a merchant, or a mother, you were most likely a thief. Thievery was the only way to survive, and without Fritjof, Tilfur was a terrible thief. He could walk without a sound, he could pick most any lock, but when it came to human contact he became too sentimental to take what was not his, but Fritjof was another story.

Tilfur found a slightly rotten apple in a crate outside of a fruit merchant’s stand. He quickly picked it up and slipped into a nearby ally. He ate the apple as fast as his mouth would let him, ignoring the sour taste and the soggy texture.

The Drowl and Forest folk.

“We cannot go past the Life Wall Nylia!” Said the Beast that resembled a human, but also a dog. His golden hair, that covered his body, fluttered violently in the wind as he ran. His long tail, about as long as the finely crafted, steel, short sword that hung from his belt. His Strong dog like legs carried him fast through the dense forest underbrush, dodging the many pine trees that filled the great Elvin territory called “Arnifonin”.

The Dog-boy, also known as a Drowl, stopped by the tall female elf; at only 4 feet tall he almost reached her shoulder. The elf’s slender face, too beautiful to describe with words, glanced down at the young Drowl. She spoke in a voice so soft, so kind, and so perfect, it alone could steal the hearts of a thousand men. “Spaik, I never told you to follow me, but if you wish to come then we must pass the Life Wall.”

“You will worry the people if you leave, without their queen they will lose all hope.” Nylia looked at Spaik with fury in her eyes, “I am no one’s queen, not yet.” “You will be after the ceremony”, loudly said spaik, almost yelling. “Not if I don’t attend the ceremony, then I am not a queen, and never will be.” The elf began to walk at a brisk pace, the short Drowl following. “It’s what your mother would have wanted; won’t you do it for her?” Not thinking before she spoke, and in an angry, but still a soft voice, she said, “I would do nothing for her, I don’t even know her, and neither do you, don’t mention her again.”

The truth is, Nylia would do anything for her mother, anything to meet her, anything to hug her, anything to bring her back. Her mother was not coming back, her mother was taken by the Garnozven, translated into “Hands of Death”. The Garnozven, once called Beldra, were once forest elves like Nylia, they were a small village in Arifonin that was well known for their arcane knowledge. As their knowledge grew, so did their curiosity. The Beldra began to discover darker more evil magics that only cause destruction and death. They practiced these dark powers in the solitude of their own village deep within the forests of Arfonin, until a nomad group of Drowl came to their village looking for supplies. The Beldra’s minds were corrupted and broken, they lured the Dowl into their town, and gave them food and a place to sleep. As the Drowl slept, the Beldra cast a powerful spell on the Drowl that caused them to lose their free will and become mindless slaves. The Beldra practiced their new spells on the drowl, killing most of them, the ones that survived became demonic beasts, with only one purpose, to serve the Beldra. One day, a Legendary elf known as Lefendor, accompanied by his companion, a very brave, powerful Drowl, named Spaiden, returning home from a long journey, decided to stop by the village of Beldra, expecting a welcoming friendly village. The Beldra, consumed by demons, attacked Lefendor and Spaiden. In the attack Lefendor died defending Spaiden, Spaiden escaped barely alive and disoriented. A druid elf of Arfonin found Spaiden and nursed him back to health, Spaiden returned to the Elvin capitol, called Niofelin, bringing tails of his journey, and the terrible news about the Beldra. The Forest folk destroyed the Beldra, and cast the survivors out of the barrier, the Life Wall, banning them from ever passing through the Life Wall again. Years passed and the stars changed, but one of the Beldra’s minions remained, disguised as a rotting pine tree. A young elf, no older the 6, was captured by this minion, and taken outside the Life Wall. The Beldra had grown in numbers, and the waited outside the Life Wall, demanding the queen for the child. Nylia’s mother, the queen, kind hearted, went through the Life Wall, after she left, a small lifeless body was thrown through the barrier from the other side. From that day on, no living thing ever passed through the Life Wall. Nylia was just a new born child, and was claimed by the elders to be queen when she reached adulthood, and tomorrow, she will be an adult.