HEY people, how you all doing. So I had this english assignment and, well, this is it. Tell me what you think. Enjoy
The bitter wind went straight to his bones. Not even the weather welcomed him here anymore. He walked down the landing towards the shore. A lot had changed in 20 years. It looked the same, but different. Almost as if the soul of the city had been ripped away, leaving only the empty shells of the buildings behind. He had only heard of the disasters and mayhem the drought had caused. The farming industry had evaporated with the water, regardless of the dark clouds that hung low in the sky day after day. Many of the town’s people thought it to be the omen of destruction. Remiel was not superstisious. His grandfather had always looked for ‘death omens’. Remiel thought of him as an attention seeking old goon who had a strange resembalance to a dessicated koala.
With all this in his mind, Remiel let his long strides lead him to the front doors of the inn. He had to use all his strength and both arms to push the heavy oak doors in to the entrance. He stood in the wide room, dumb struck with deja’ vu. He hastened to the bar, where he could almost hear the laughing and dancing of his memories. He stood in the doorway, almost disappointed to find himself alone. Again.
He slowly looked around the room, glancing at the empty wooden tables, the cold stone walls and the hard floorboards. He didn’t recall it being this bare. Too soon he found himself on the bar stool, still in his world of what once was.
“A customer, you’re a dyin’ breed mate”, remarked a welcoming voice. Remiel jumped out of his skin.
“‘orry mate, didn’ mean ta scare ya”. The bartender was a short man, obviously had dwarven blood in him. However, something was definitely familiar. He was easily in his 60’s, and his white hair and beard shone like strands of silver.
“Ya wanna drink, mate ?”. His gruff voice carried a very distinctive accent. Remiel soon realized who he was, Darc Roughcut, the bartender from 20 years ago, although his hair was ivory black with curls like springs back then. He stood a little higher off the ground, but still, the same Drac.
“Could you get me a shot o’ bourbon?”, Remiel asked as he inconspicuously pulled his coat hood over his head covering most of his face.
“’orry mate, fresh out”, sighed Drac,”but we happen to have some great mead on tap”. He was enthusiastic to sell something.
“How could I refuse?”, Remiel smiled as he discreetly pushed his brown hair over his green eyes.
He was drinking his mead in silence, avoiding eye contact. There was hardly any point in worrying as Drac was busying himself with cleaning and polishing, occasionally forgetting the presence of his customer. Remiel soon fell back into his world of remeniscences. As he gazed at the stripped walls where once curtains and pictures had hung, he noticed the one small photo remaining. The land of Lordaeron in its entirety. The West Falls, Azeroth Cliffs towering high over Tristfal Cove, all the way to Un’Gror forest and Minthost Plains. And, in the left, you could make out the great city Thelsamar.
“When was that taken”, Remiel gestured towards the photo,
“Phft…that’s a tricky one, jus’ shy o’ twen’y years, I’d say”, Drac opined,“back when the sun shone 18 hours a day ‘nd th’ water was a spectacular blue, nut this black crap we gut taday”.
”The city seem bigger back then too”, Remiel pointed out,
“Yeah, we was a city back then”,
“So is Thelsamar a town now, or a large village?”, Remiel inquired.
Drac laughed “Look aroun’ lad, we is little more than a graveyard”.
Remiel couldn’t help but be amused. The world could be turned upside-down but Drac’s blunt humor would still shine through.
“Well’, Drac continued “The books and maps say we’re a city, bu’ we aint even got a butcher, baker or candle stick maker between us. Everyone who could leave has, only us ol’ buggers who can’t afford anywheres else”, he sighed.
“Who else is left”, Remiel dared question once more.
“Umm…let’s see, mainly the oldies, the drought got rid o’ anyone that still had money. Most o’ the young kids went to war, everyone else, well, one way or anutha they got out o’ here”, Drac half mumbled in deep thought.
“All exept one group o’ kids, they went across to the Minthos plains to try find th’ cause of the ‘omen problem’, Smart bunch, they had always been friends, they cam’ up with this explaintion sayin’ the ‘bad omens’ were scientific. ‘Course a lot o’ people round here don’t like tha’ mumbo jumbo”, he finished.
Remiel looked up for the first time, “Really”, he exclaimed. “You remember any names?”
“Well…Yanni was the smart one, Gaskel was the rational one, Tannok was a bit of a lariken and Rem was the explorer, but I don’t think he went with them”.
Remiel was amazed his name was remembered, and that his friends were not too far away. Well, not as far as he was used to them being. “You wouldn’t know where abouts they’d be would you?”, Remiel was eager to find them.
Drac looked up and raised an eyebrow “I’d say Tannok’s mother would. Why what’s it ta you?”, he glared. “You work for a paper or somethin’?”
“Nahh, nothing that flash, I’m just curious about the omen”, Remiel replied quickly, hoping Drac would buy his explanation.
“Well it explains why you’re here”, Drac lightened up again.
:P.
:D
