Silen
June 7th, 2012, 06:32 PM
Shelzalar hung like a star in the sky, floating aloft clouds of silver steam. The great towers, made of piercing violet marble, sent shadows penetrating through the bright light of the golden sun. The roofs a rich crimson, constructed with thousands of hand shaped slates. The walls stood like an impassable barrier around the floating city, made up of the rich, seamless purple marble akin to the towers. The city was perfectly symmetrical, the keep stood directly in the centre it was constructed of pure silver stone that seemed to flow like liquid in the changing light, its four towers standing at the corners of its foundations looming high above the rest of the city.
Within this city, the full force of the humans had gathered. Tens of thousands of men at arms armed with short sword and regal violet shields stood guard over fifty thousand civilians, all whom were led by Huzar Wolfbane.
Inside the Royal chamber of Shelzalar, Huzar sat on the throne of his forefathers. He was an enormous man, clad in a long fur cloak, made from the pelt of a giant dire wolf. The fur covered his back, and the sizable wolfs head rested on his right shoulder, a constant warning to all who opposed the king, of his combat capabilities. He wore a fur loincloth, with chain mail hanging underneath. In one hand rested the great spear of Shelzalar, a brutal pole arm with vicious wolf teeth running down its shaft, at its point a giant, malicious, barbed tip shined in the light like a great jewel. Huzar was at least eight feet tall, his body rippling with thick muscles and his piercing leaf green eyes, gazed out through his long black hair, over the congregation before him.
The dire wolves were the quarry of choice for any man who sought to rise to greatness, these wolves were stronger, smarter and more ferocious than any other living animal in the whole of xypaxis, king Huzar had been the first to best one in hand to hand combat, and due to that triumph, he ruled.
“You seek to hunt the wolf?” spoke Huzar from his throne, the crowd before him cheered.
“I said DO YOU SEEK TO HUNT THE WOLF!” his voice reverberating around the great throne room, the crowd cheered manically, as he rose to his feet.
“Good, for every wolf pelt returned to me, a hundred gold coins will be given. Now go!” his voice full of unquestionable authority.
The crowd of fifty or so men clad in nought but leather leggings and wielding basic spears, some adorned with ornate violet war paint, rushed out of the throne room.
A lone woman stood behind the kings’ throne, wearing nought but a simple crimson dress that traipsed along the ground behind her, she spoke quietly into the king’s ear.
“How many will return my lord Huzar?”
“None, my love.”
Within this city, the full force of the humans had gathered. Tens of thousands of men at arms armed with short sword and regal violet shields stood guard over fifty thousand civilians, all whom were led by Huzar Wolfbane.
Inside the Royal chamber of Shelzalar, Huzar sat on the throne of his forefathers. He was an enormous man, clad in a long fur cloak, made from the pelt of a giant dire wolf. The fur covered his back, and the sizable wolfs head rested on his right shoulder, a constant warning to all who opposed the king, of his combat capabilities. He wore a fur loincloth, with chain mail hanging underneath. In one hand rested the great spear of Shelzalar, a brutal pole arm with vicious wolf teeth running down its shaft, at its point a giant, malicious, barbed tip shined in the light like a great jewel. Huzar was at least eight feet tall, his body rippling with thick muscles and his piercing leaf green eyes, gazed out through his long black hair, over the congregation before him.
The dire wolves were the quarry of choice for any man who sought to rise to greatness, these wolves were stronger, smarter and more ferocious than any other living animal in the whole of xypaxis, king Huzar had been the first to best one in hand to hand combat, and due to that triumph, he ruled.
“You seek to hunt the wolf?” spoke Huzar from his throne, the crowd before him cheered.
“I said DO YOU SEEK TO HUNT THE WOLF!” his voice reverberating around the great throne room, the crowd cheered manically, as he rose to his feet.
“Good, for every wolf pelt returned to me, a hundred gold coins will be given. Now go!” his voice full of unquestionable authority.
The crowd of fifty or so men clad in nought but leather leggings and wielding basic spears, some adorned with ornate violet war paint, rushed out of the throne room.
A lone woman stood behind the kings’ throne, wearing nought but a simple crimson dress that traipsed along the ground behind her, she spoke quietly into the king’s ear.
“How many will return my lord Huzar?”
“None, my love.”