This be a work in progress y'all don't be makin' fun of the way I write y'know?
It's for the server I be startin' and it's already here guys but this ain't no advert jus' me bein' creative and whatnot. So yeah, post if you like it, I know they be some critics out there, but I ain't go'n judge. Lemme know if you wanna help us too cuz' I aint' dat good at makin' them ideas or summot kay here goes, yo.
A clear sonance of split bark piercing the misty morning air, sun lifting slightly over the trees. Through the brush a dull glistening water droplet dives off four leaves before dripping steadily into the rippling pond of a day after showers. Clouds still looming in the sky, another crack pierces the silence. A man stand steadily, sweat laden brow, sturdy build, muscular arms raise in an arch of his back and again drop in a mighty descent and one log split on a stump and thump into two piles alike. "Whew," he gasped once and slowly breathed out, two more bouts of this lead into grunts as another log sit upon the stump. An axe raised once more and jutted down into another split log, the stump almost split itself. As he step back his boots dampen with the morning grass.
With logs laden on his shoulders strapped down into a long trail of roping he fastened many of the logs onto this conjunction. More logs still lay uneasily upon the strands though he maintains a skilled hand tempered by years of lumber working among his father and his grandfather before him. Memories of them still lay in his mind, though it doesn't pay to think of such things. The night prior was chilling at the least, with no preparation or firewood to keep him warm through that storm. He return to his lone cabin, dragging the mass through the mud of the morning, his boots sinking into the gravel path before him.
Veins protrude from his lean arms, grunting seemingly never interrupted by his steady breaths. The mass now sliding along the wet grass and mud, rolling with the rocks of the path and more easy it seemed to continue the closer to home he became. He had hunted many days before, and was readily prepared for a hearty meal over a fire from a mornings' work well done. As he turned on to his forked road towards his cabin, he notice fresh prints of a horse, though with plates on it's feet and never going off the road.
He let go of his long row of logs, dropping the handle into a puddle of water and a moment of mental lament was quickly succeeded by curiosity. Only the rich could afford horseshoes, the thoughts ringed through his mind, he was a simple man of simple pleasures and simple culture. What could a rich man be wanting out here? He had never witnessed a rich man, though the nightly gatherings at the town pub said nothing too well about them. His boots dug into the path as he circled the hill that loom above the trail. He see two men in pristine garb nailing lightly a pad of paper to his doorway. Anger grew quickly, tax collectors, not four more words skimmed his mind before every stomp of his boots splash water metres into the air it seemed and easily garnering the attention of the two men at his doorstep. "Get off of my property you no good sheep sh*****s!" One man fled quickly, the other remained still. He step slowly towards him, as if unfazed. "'Kur'? Kuraus Santier?" He said calmly. "Who wants to know." Kur stated angrily, tilting his head to the side, face twisted in anger, he stepped closer to the man in disgust, boasting his muscular build. "We have a family dilemma." The suited man said calmly, the look of disgust on Kurs' face turned calmer. He was incredibly confused at this point, somewhat relieved that they weren't tax collectors. "Who's family?" Kur asked, the man twirled around and through the corner of his eye looked back at Kur and said "Your family, my family, our family."
It took a moment for that to sink in for Kuraus.
"What kind of problem?"
Pause of silence for a few moments before the man twirled back to face Kur again.
"A marital problem."
Another shot of confusion overcame his poker-face and an uneasy expression overcame him.
"What do you mean...?" He asked
"Well, we've married off many of our brethren and ever since the war started we haven't had too many people around, we had to look for more distant relatives, and coincidentally enough your line maintained the family name."
Kuraus paced back and forth for a few moments, still looking at the man that claimed to be his relative. Then an idea came to mind, and he spoke once more. "So, what does that make you?" - "Good question.." The man responded "I am your cousin, Hafseen Brennan Santier the fourth." - Kurs' eye twitched a little. "You got a nickname..?" He responded, "No, just Hafseen."
"All right, Haffi." Kuraus responded, Hafseen didn't appear to enjoy the play on his name. "Do be civil, we're the ruling family!" He clutched his pearl-laden necklace before calling his friend from behind the carriage. "Junto! Junto come quickly!" He appeared and quickly tread over the stone pathway to the group. "Please mount up, Kuraus we're leaving." He said steadily. "All fine and well, good luck on your travels." Kuraus retired his axe to the ground and began going back to his logs. "No, no, we as in you and I!" Hafseen said. "What!? Where? Why?" Hafseen opened the carriage door and beckoned for Kuraus to follow, he did not. He pulled out a small revolver from his pant pocket and cocked it as loudly as he could so Kuraus could hear and exclaimed as one of the horses whinnied. "You don't have a choice in the matter, get in."
Kuraus paused, tightening his shoulders. He could take a bullet, but his mind betrayed his heart. He turned around and coyly stated "fine..." He proceeded towards the carriage, Hafseen extended an arm to pull him in, though his boots creaked the woodwork of the step and the loud creak seemed to almost break the support. The interior was posh and filled with pink ribbon and carpeting. Red curtains on the windows shined dimly in the morning air, he watch as he passed the fork where his longs remained sitting lonely, he wondered if he'd ever return to take them home, it was so close. Maybe he could ask them to get out and deliver the logging. Then he remembered the gun, still pointed at him. He put his hand over it quickly and shoved it to the ground. "Oh my! Don't-!" Hafseen yelled as he put his hands up, though Kuraus simply grabbed the shaft of the weapon and extended the handle back to him. "Put this damned thing away, you don't need it." He said, just then the carriage hit a bump exciting them both. The pistol dropped to the floor of the carriage and with every bump inched back under the seating. Hafseen quickly retreated back into a conservative slouch against the door looking at Kuraus.
Kuraus compared his family member to himself, he seemed thin and bony. His hair frilled upward into curls that went down farther than his shoulders. His coat was intricate and coloured teal and pale yellow, black stripes leading from his neck to his abdomen, then taken over by tight black pants quickly interrupted at the calves with white boots. He sat with his back to the door, one knee resting on the seat of the chair and the other sprawled onto the floor. One arm lay along his thighs palm down rested on his left, and the other arm jacket sleeve ending in a white glove placed almost grabbing his hip. He continued looking on intently "What are you staring at?" the sound broke his concentration. Kur replied simply with a 'hmph' and looked out the window at the passing countryside. "Where're we headed, anyway?" -- "We're going to the capital city for your wedding of course, we arranged it." In the moments following that statement bewilderment came onset though the most dominant feeling in his heart was strangely hope. He didn't seem to have anyone interested in him and vice versa out in the country, maybe a night in the pub every now and again brought prospects but in his mind none of them could be married, or should be married for that matter.
"Wh- Who?" Kuraus said, almost stuttering. "It's a royal wedding, as I said before you're our closest relative who's not caught up in the war and still has our family name--" He paused to look at his wristwatch."-- You're marrying Analice Sherill Donukkur Soban-- Or, after this, Anna-Lisa Santier." He wryly half squinted and looked to the side, downward before returning his gaze.
------------
If you wanna spoiler alert as to why any o' dis matters y'all shud hit me up wit a PM yo.
It's for the server I be startin' and it's already here guys but this ain't no advert jus' me bein' creative and whatnot. So yeah, post if you like it, I know they be some critics out there, but I ain't go'n judge. Lemme know if you wanna help us too cuz' I aint' dat good at makin' them ideas or summot kay here goes, yo.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A clear sonance of split bark piercing the misty morning air, sun lifting slightly over the trees. Through the brush a dull glistening water droplet dives off four leaves before dripping steadily into the rippling pond of a day after showers. Clouds still looming in the sky, another crack pierces the silence. A man stand steadily, sweat laden brow, sturdy build, muscular arms raise in an arch of his back and again drop in a mighty descent and one log split on a stump and thump into two piles alike. "Whew," he gasped once and slowly breathed out, two more bouts of this lead into grunts as another log sit upon the stump. An axe raised once more and jutted down into another split log, the stump almost split itself. As he step back his boots dampen with the morning grass.
With logs laden on his shoulders strapped down into a long trail of roping he fastened many of the logs onto this conjunction. More logs still lay uneasily upon the strands though he maintains a skilled hand tempered by years of lumber working among his father and his grandfather before him. Memories of them still lay in his mind, though it doesn't pay to think of such things. The night prior was chilling at the least, with no preparation or firewood to keep him warm through that storm. He return to his lone cabin, dragging the mass through the mud of the morning, his boots sinking into the gravel path before him.
Veins protrude from his lean arms, grunting seemingly never interrupted by his steady breaths. The mass now sliding along the wet grass and mud, rolling with the rocks of the path and more easy it seemed to continue the closer to home he became. He had hunted many days before, and was readily prepared for a hearty meal over a fire from a mornings' work well done. As he turned on to his forked road towards his cabin, he notice fresh prints of a horse, though with plates on it's feet and never going off the road.
He let go of his long row of logs, dropping the handle into a puddle of water and a moment of mental lament was quickly succeeded by curiosity. Only the rich could afford horseshoes, the thoughts ringed through his mind, he was a simple man of simple pleasures and simple culture. What could a rich man be wanting out here? He had never witnessed a rich man, though the nightly gatherings at the town pub said nothing too well about them. His boots dug into the path as he circled the hill that loom above the trail. He see two men in pristine garb nailing lightly a pad of paper to his doorway. Anger grew quickly, tax collectors, not four more words skimmed his mind before every stomp of his boots splash water metres into the air it seemed and easily garnering the attention of the two men at his doorstep. "Get off of my property you no good sheep sh*****s!" One man fled quickly, the other remained still. He step slowly towards him, as if unfazed. "'Kur'? Kuraus Santier?" He said calmly. "Who wants to know." Kur stated angrily, tilting his head to the side, face twisted in anger, he stepped closer to the man in disgust, boasting his muscular build. "We have a family dilemma." The suited man said calmly, the look of disgust on Kurs' face turned calmer. He was incredibly confused at this point, somewhat relieved that they weren't tax collectors. "Who's family?" Kur asked, the man twirled around and through the corner of his eye looked back at Kur and said "Your family, my family, our family."
It took a moment for that to sink in for Kuraus.
"What kind of problem?"
Pause of silence for a few moments before the man twirled back to face Kur again.
"A marital problem."
Another shot of confusion overcame his poker-face and an uneasy expression overcame him.
"What do you mean...?" He asked
"Well, we've married off many of our brethren and ever since the war started we haven't had too many people around, we had to look for more distant relatives, and coincidentally enough your line maintained the family name."
Kuraus paced back and forth for a few moments, still looking at the man that claimed to be his relative. Then an idea came to mind, and he spoke once more. "So, what does that make you?" - "Good question.." The man responded "I am your cousin, Hafseen Brennan Santier the fourth." - Kurs' eye twitched a little. "You got a nickname..?" He responded, "No, just Hafseen."
"All right, Haffi." Kuraus responded, Hafseen didn't appear to enjoy the play on his name. "Do be civil, we're the ruling family!" He clutched his pearl-laden necklace before calling his friend from behind the carriage. "Junto! Junto come quickly!" He appeared and quickly tread over the stone pathway to the group. "Please mount up, Kuraus we're leaving." He said steadily. "All fine and well, good luck on your travels." Kuraus retired his axe to the ground and began going back to his logs. "No, no, we as in you and I!" Hafseen said. "What!? Where? Why?" Hafseen opened the carriage door and beckoned for Kuraus to follow, he did not. He pulled out a small revolver from his pant pocket and cocked it as loudly as he could so Kuraus could hear and exclaimed as one of the horses whinnied. "You don't have a choice in the matter, get in."
Kuraus paused, tightening his shoulders. He could take a bullet, but his mind betrayed his heart. He turned around and coyly stated "fine..." He proceeded towards the carriage, Hafseen extended an arm to pull him in, though his boots creaked the woodwork of the step and the loud creak seemed to almost break the support. The interior was posh and filled with pink ribbon and carpeting. Red curtains on the windows shined dimly in the morning air, he watch as he passed the fork where his longs remained sitting lonely, he wondered if he'd ever return to take them home, it was so close. Maybe he could ask them to get out and deliver the logging. Then he remembered the gun, still pointed at him. He put his hand over it quickly and shoved it to the ground. "Oh my! Don't-!" Hafseen yelled as he put his hands up, though Kuraus simply grabbed the shaft of the weapon and extended the handle back to him. "Put this damned thing away, you don't need it." He said, just then the carriage hit a bump exciting them both. The pistol dropped to the floor of the carriage and with every bump inched back under the seating. Hafseen quickly retreated back into a conservative slouch against the door looking at Kuraus.
Kuraus compared his family member to himself, he seemed thin and bony. His hair frilled upward into curls that went down farther than his shoulders. His coat was intricate and coloured teal and pale yellow, black stripes leading from his neck to his abdomen, then taken over by tight black pants quickly interrupted at the calves with white boots. He sat with his back to the door, one knee resting on the seat of the chair and the other sprawled onto the floor. One arm lay along his thighs palm down rested on his left, and the other arm jacket sleeve ending in a white glove placed almost grabbing his hip. He continued looking on intently "What are you staring at?" the sound broke his concentration. Kur replied simply with a 'hmph' and looked out the window at the passing countryside. "Where're we headed, anyway?" -- "We're going to the capital city for your wedding of course, we arranged it." In the moments following that statement bewilderment came onset though the most dominant feeling in his heart was strangely hope. He didn't seem to have anyone interested in him and vice versa out in the country, maybe a night in the pub every now and again brought prospects but in his mind none of them could be married, or should be married for that matter.
"Wh- Who?" Kuraus said, almost stuttering. "It's a royal wedding, as I said before you're our closest relative who's not caught up in the war and still has our family name--" He paused to look at his wristwatch."-- You're marrying Analice Sherill Donukkur Soban-- Or, after this, Anna-Lisa Santier." He wryly half squinted and looked to the side, downward before returning his gaze.
------------
If you wanna spoiler alert as to why any o' dis matters y'all shud hit me up wit a PM yo.