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Ydalon
The grin was shattered as the first rock struck just over a street away, sending a plume of dust into the air. The ground shook, nearly throwing him off his feet. Seven years of bad fortune in the making. But the boy stood firm.
Above him, still more objects streaked down through the skies, and crashed into the clay and wood structures of Talryr. Ydalon ducked into a crouch, his arms over his head in a useless gesture of protection as he waited for the destruction to pass. Something warm and wet dribbled down his left leg, but he counted the heartbeats between impact and at long last dared to look about. Most of the city still stood, despite the frightening attack.
Chilling, he limped down the street, joining others as they emerged from their doorways. A crowd had already formed, that street and a half away, around what had once been the local temple; a place of fear dedicated to the bloody rebirth of a nation, where men prayed for the stars to tarry. Or, more recently, for the Lords' 'salvation' to destroy the capital. It was an omen in truth, but as he pushed forward towards the ruins, he wondered at its interpretation.
A wizened old man was picking through the rubble with deliberate care, his robe of bleached wool suggesting he had only just left his bed. Identifying him as the local astronomer wizard, the boy altered his assumption. The man had been about to rest.
Tightening his trousers, Ydalon approached to help him in his search.
[ 05-13-2007, 11:13 AM: Message edited by: Legolas ]
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