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Rated: E · Sample · Fantasy · #1331672
Newbie attempt at writing some fanatasy. (too short for review?)
~ Chapter 1 ~

It was the third year of the war between alliance and the rebellion. The undead and orcs for the last year had busied themselves with the extermination of the remnants of the alliance – humans and elves. Perhaps their change in tactics would be their undoing. Only recently had the alliance begun to finally turn the tide in turning back the onslaught. Arayon, a night elf was a leader of a small band of alliance freedom fighters. At 43 he was young compared to other remaining elves but he had been battle tested. Tall and lean in stature his leather armor formed tightly to his over six-foot frame. The repeated soaking and drying of his garments now appeared as a second skin. A quiver of arrows rested on the ground next to his longbow, both stood ready whenever circumstances demanded; a long blade dagger, looking glass, and worn mapped made up most of his remaining belongings. His perse skin weathered with small scars and tarnished from countless battles had become a symbol of the alliances determination.

Arayon hurriedly rolled up his make shift bedding, it had been another restless night, something that had become the norm.  Zeus, Arayon’s wolf companion seemed slow to rise and greet the first morning sun. It would be another hour before the second sun appeared in the sky. The campfire had surrendered during the night to the cold grip of the now fainting night sky. Arayon effortlessly rekindled the fire; a cup of thistle tea had become his morningtide. As he sipped his tea the camp began to awaken and the night watch staggered in from their previous night’s patrol.

Seros, one of Arayon’s only remaining friends from before the war, was the first to approach him.

Do you have any left for me, queried Seros?

I always make extra, help your self.

Arayon immediately turned the conversation to the fact finding of the previous nights events.

Anything new to report, coaxed Arayon.

Nothing, it was a quiet night, but that is exactly what makes me nervous.

Not a breath was wasted declaring what both knew in their hearts, they had become too accustomed to quite nights preceding a new attack. The friends gazed into the sky, both longed for days passed. The length of their survey of the new dawn reminded them that they yearned for a time, now long ago, when their discussions had focused on a simpler time. Idle, casual conversations about hunting and exploring the forest, sometimes their journeys took them away from town for weeks at a time.  Sadly much of that very forest was now scarred from years of war.

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