“Come on, get up!”
The words, followed by a swift poke to Isilorbor’s all ready pained ribs awoke him sharply from a pleasant dream he was having of a sunset over hills of orange and skies. Another poke, this time it made Isilorbor groan and looked up at Forsion standing over him, his bushy grey eyebrows like that of a frowning owl.
“Up, up, up, up, up, UP!” Another harder poke into Isilorbor’s shoulder, he was using a cane, not a walking stick but something that was used to train men in marching in formation.
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Isilorbor Ventris Lendes Ventris
