Okay, so I actually really enjoyed what I wrote yesterday. There's just something so very invigorating about creating a new world, with a new social structure, and then throwing complications in the way to see how this new world overcomes them. So, I decided to carry this on. Long story short it's been one heck of a long day, but I found time to just sit and write, which is always nice. So I'm gonna type up what I wrote and then expand on it some more now. Here you go!
"True power is achieved only through the Arkane. True knowledge and wisdom can only be found within its light." This mantra was etched on a large, brass placard outside the Great Hall of Thrones. It is here that the Wardens have resided for generations. Many come here to learn from the Loremasters about the ways of the Arkane, hoping one day to become Arkanists and eventually Wardens themselves. Ossirin used to house shrines for each of the Twelve, as was the old custom, but as also was the case for cities, they chose one of the Twelve to be their 'Primaris'; the deity worshipped primarily within the city walls. The Primaris of the Twelve for Ossirin was Giath, the Lady of Earthbound Glory.
This was before the arrival of the Wardens and the coming of the Arkanic teachings. They tore down the shrines and the temple of Giath, building their Great Hall atop the ruins. Out of spite, Giath did not allow the soil of Ossirin to bear growth for six years, but the Wardens found ways to cultivate through their 'Tek'.
Kiin had only been in Ossirin for three days, and already he had developed a dislike for the Wardens. Kiin was of a northern tribe from the country of Malgarin, and so the ways of the Arkane seemed foreign and unnatural to him. His tribe still believed in the old ways, and still followed the Twelve, but they showed no favouritism, worshipping each of the Twelve equally. Kiin had heard, as had everyone in their tribe as a youth, the tale of the Chosen from his tribe's elders, and how their decision to worship the Twelve universally was why none of their tribe had ever been selected as a Chosen, despite their faith in the old ways being strong still in modern times. Kiin decided to begin his own pilgrimage, to seek out and learn from the Chosen and grow closer to the Twelve by doing so. His journey had brought him to Ossirin because of the old temple to Giath he had heard of, and how it was the most likely location to find Giath's Chosen.
He stood before the Great Hall of Thrones, a light breeze flicking through his oaken hair. His eyes glinted blue as they caught the sun's light. He sighed and looked down to his boots; simple leather and caked with the dust of travel. His teeth clenched at the thought of how the temple could so easily and nonchalantly be torn down and replaced. He clasped a hand over the ruby set into the metal of his breastplate as his other hand moved to adjust the strap of his sword's scabbard across his back; such a long sword that it required two hands to wield effectively, yet with a fine and thin blade so that it still implied a sense of elegance when wielded. Kiin frowned and took one final stare at the Great Hall, spitting on the ground as he turned away in disgust. His feet carried him to the east of the city, in the hopes to find lodgings for the night. His search for Giath's Chosen - though possibly now in vain, he realised - would continue after a night's sleep.
So there you go, the story continues. And I bet you all thought I was gonna have a Chosen as my main character... Heh heh
Well, adios for now folks.
God bless!
Craiggy.
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