wolven [Profile] 2012/12/19 - 14:2:10
Um.... ouch? MY..... FINGERS!!!
Bluuaaagh. Anyways, this took seemingly forever and at times i doubted if i would ever get it finished. I think most people who like my stuff know the snow elf on the right to be Cane. The one on the left, who is considerably taller and more muscular is his half-brother and The heir to leadership of Riverhead- Khalen, whose personality will become evident in this chapter... rather this next half cuz i don't think i can post it all at once.
For the record... I'm not very good at doing fire, so those glowey things are actually torches. oh yes, and that brush at the bottom turned out really well i think!
Yeah um... C&C on the picture would be appreciated... a lot.
wolven [Profile] 2012/12/19 - 14:55:34
The Sons of Tholainn.
Cane entered the courtyard of the keep, for its walls were of polished stone laid together by joints thinner than the edge of a knife. Its battlements would allow it to hold off a small force, provided there were no machinations of siege to be parleyed with. The keep itself was roughly square in nature with a large tower as a second story of the keep, which linked itself to the outer walls. Within the courtyard were a number of children and adolescents playing with each other, and at the far left of Cane, there were practise dummies, worn with strikes of fists, swords and arrows. Practising here was the Village elder’s eldest Son, and Cane’s Half-brother who spent almost every waking hour practising his technique here.
At the gate to the keep was an old Snow elf with grey hair that tumbled down his back and a moustache and beard that spoke of authority, for the beard and moustache were adorned with beads and jewels befitting a Krosnian hero or warrior. He was dressed in a royal burgundy robe, with vestments of violet, all adorned with the new age of markings and runes. To Cane, they were unreadable for he only knew the common tongue. The old one had piercing blue eyes, as dark as twilight, which shone with a malevolent brilliance that reflected the starlight on a winter’s night, when the auroras would come.
He gazed towards his eldest son, who was kicking and punching with precision that was near enough to unmatched perfection. The old one smiled, and his eyes gleamed with adoration towards his heir, but as his eyes lingered over to Cane, his face was broken by a frown and all was silent. The Children stopped playing, the adolescents stopped also, and even the eldest stopped to look at Cane.
“Come here.” The old one spoke in tones of an alien nature, which caused goose bumps to raise along Cane’s flesh.
Cane strode forward to meet Tholainn, for that was the old one’s name. Cane knew that he must do as was instructed, for to disobey one’s step-father was as good as murdering one of Tholainn’s sons. Tholainn was once a great warrior, and as such had many wives, but none bore him children. Then he married a she-elf named Mathair, who bore him two sons, though one was not of his blood. He married again and again, having more children after her, but he adored his eldest above them all. Cane, was the outcast, but had to obey him.
“Tholainn.” Cane muttered as he ground to one knee before the elder, as was the custom, but he refused to acknowledge the elder as his father.
“Cane. I wish to talk to you and my eldest sons inside.” He said, and said no more, entering the keep. As Cane rose from the ground, the eldest son stopped beside him and looked him in the eye before entering the keep, slamming the door in Cane’s face.
Cane’s ears twitched with annoyance, but he had not the authority to rebuke his half brother. In their eyes he was less than a beggar. He opened the door to the keep and entered the dark room.
From the outset, one would think it was bigger on the inside than the out, but the furnishings of the room simply added the feeling of space to it, as a great fire was burning in the centre of the room, with a pot hanging above the flames. At the back was the drapes of Riverhead, banners in their own right, and the Icon was the silhouette of Blackreach in a dark material, and lighter was two intertwining designs which resembled the horns of rams. Between the banners was a Throne from Cane’s view, sitting at a table that spanned the entire room in a kind of three sided square. At either side of the throne were a number of chairs, each adorned with cushions and jewels, each a different colour depending on the nature of who was sitting at them. The two by the throne’s sides were the most lavish, as one would seat Tholainn’s eldest son and the other would seat his son’s bride-to-be; though the son had not chosen one. The reason was that it would be dishonourable for Tholainn to take a wife at his age, and so the seat passed into the ownership of his son, who would choose a bride in time. Rather, that was the common hope. Cane knew the eldest better than that.
Tholainn sat in his throne, and his eldest at his right hand. The others sat in their respective seats. Cane on the other hand usually did not even get a seat, as was the treatment for the lesser in society. Today he suspected would be no different, until Tholainn indicated towards one directly facing him. Unnerved, Cane took the seat.
Tholainn raised a hand, for his children were conversing, and they were silenced. He looked at Cane with morbid eyes, who returned with as unnerving a glare as he could manage.
“Surely, now, all of you know why I have summoned you at this hour. The time has come to decide the fates of the two eldest among you, my children, and he who sits apart.”
The eldest shuffled in his seat. His name was Khalen, after an ancient warrior who rose from the ashes of Norfair some centuries ago and avenged his family on the Dark Elves within Mt. Hades. Khalen was paler than his brethren, bordering on pure white skin, but retained the highest level of respect from them. He was heavily built, and his muscles were defined clearly by dark, contrasting lines. He dressed similarly to Cane, but his clothes were more refined. He had the same hair colour as his fathers used to be, dark blue with lighter highlights, and a headband to keep his hair outside his eyes and the same midnight blue eyes. His ears were large and deep lobed, and he was slightly taller than Cane.
“Khalen, my son…” He turned to his eldest, “has expressed a desire to join the Volun-Laocha, and wishes to bring much glory for our family. For this he must pass several tests of their design, but I can oversee your training and even put in some good references to get you started.”
“With all due respect father,” spoke one of the girls, Valen, “Khalen is the best warrior we have in Riverhead, and it would be a shame to lose him. I must also stress my concern if there is another bandit raid then…”
“Valen,” Tholainn said, raising his hand, “You speak out of place; for it is not my desire to lose Khalen, rather it is his desire to join the legion, and who are we to oppose him?”
“I spoke only as a concerned sister for her brother.” She stated, closing the matter. Khalen appeared indifferent. ‘The irony’ Cane thought to himself.
“Second is Vladen, my second eldest son…”
Cane grimaced. Of all the Elder’s children, Vladen was by far the most irksome, and by that the most dangerous. He too wore a headband, like his elder brother, but had cold, calculating green eyes. Vladen was dangerous because he was knowledgeable, in that he could command authority from all but his elder brother and his father, and could wreak havoc with but a flick of his tongue or a smack of his lips. He was dark haired and had a more tanned skin than his brother, so he was more blue, but he had very little muscle and had a wicked nature about him. His face was pressed tight against his skull and his cheeks seemed somehow plush, which though effeminate, gave the same deceptive effect as an Imp.
“Yes, father. I should like to express my desire to continue my work as a scholar, however…” Vladen began, his eyes scanning his brethren suspiciously, and with a hint of menace, they rested on Cane for a moment, and he smiled, before resuming. “I should like to move to Slíabhengarde for some time, as it has the largest library in all of Ignitia.”
Tholainn was taken aback, for this was a bold move on his son’s part. You never interrupted the village elder unless it was of paramount importance, but Tholainn, Cane knew, doted upon this son, for whilst Khalen inherited his father’s muscle, Vladen inherited his wit. If Vladen was going to The Eyrie, rather if his father approved, then it would at least be one less problem for Riverhead in Cane’s eyes.
“Why do you wish to be a scholar brother?” one of the younger brothers asked, his name was Murten, “Do you not want to win glory by battle?”
Vladen smiled and looked at Cane again.
“What is the point of winning glory for families if there is no one to write it down on scrolls or carve it in stone? My dear brother Khalen will undoubtedly win much if he completes the trials, but who will remember him in two hundred years?”
“What do you mean?”
“I am saying that if Khalen wants his name to last through the ages, he will need a scribe to detail all that he did so oral tradition does not,” he looked at Cane with a glint in his eyes, “So oral tradition does not corrupt the exact nature of my brother’s feats. Who will sing of him if it is not written down first? Essentially, without scholars such as myself, these feats would be pointless and a waste of time. He needs me.”
Cane knew this game too well, for it was one he was used to watching. It was a threat to his brother, and a warning. It was telling Khalen not to do anything foolish else he would record it. Tholainn however seemed not to understand, for it seemed his mind was growing frail...
pumadragon [Profile] 2012/12/22 - 9:20:56
(I know you might be getting tired of my comments, but I really like your fanfic.....)
I like the wood texture you've got going here, and to be honest I feel quite bad for Cane. Though I suppose becoming a rider will help him gain some honor, right? And I like the appearances you chose for Khalen and those guys, the blue color you chose for the hair really appeals to me.....too bad they're all mean to Cane, although it seems it's sort of part of their culture to act that way....
Oh yes, and because I'm a total geek with synesthesia, 'practice' is spelled a 'c' and not an 's'. (I notice these things because when someone spells things wrong by accident, the colors of the letters look wrong to me, ^_^)