books

I was fairly tired from yesterdays journel here, yet I am glad to be among the people I love and to have them safe. I spoke with Alimaenda on how Varni and Hrai were doing on their teachings, Varni was doing well in her tracking and archery and so on, while Hrai was proving rather difficult and instead sought to learn by reading of scrolls of other scholarly endveaors.

He stared up into the darkness. As his eyes adjusted, he could just make out the lines of the rough hewn logs that supported the roof above him. He remembered how big and safe those logs had seemed as a child. His father had worked on them himself – with help from others in the town, of course – but to Bregoan, he was the hero. It had seemed impenetrable.

The leather binding that held the book together was well worn and stained. No name graced it, but on the first page Bregoàn could make out the words Sundry Tales of Elves and Magic. He had cleared a spot in one of his favorite hideouts in the tall grass of the planes. A clear, and somewhat clean, mat of grass formed a perfect nook for taking in a new book. He had used it often.

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OOC: This piece will be split up into parts, as I, as the author, believe that keeping such a set of information to take in and IC knowledge to learn about certain characters and events should be arrayed across different parts, in order to retain an easier form of reading, and hopefully interest.

The Finding Of Fhlynn

By a True Father

Chapter Two - A memory best kept silent

The Finding of Fhlynn

By A true father.

Chapter One - Death and a true family?

Death... A strange thing, or nothing - For that matter. But what is it? An endless abyss of black, the unseen, the unknown. Silence. Or some would think... For when is something, truly 'nothing'? Shouldn't the being of nothingness, create something? A deep philosophy, one that would be remembered, throughout the future of this, rather odd, book.

Chapter Five: The Flames of Memory

It had been many years, since Garmorn had felt like this - So shocked, so powerless in the face of events. His younger brother, with emphasis on "younger", had the strength and willpower to offend him, so deeply that he might wonder if this had been some form of curse from Mahal, or a dream - A memory of the past, of his previous pain, and of the dark torture that took place nigh thirteen years ago, relative to the time that this tale is noting.

Chapter Four: On Graves

Laughter, is indeed a strangeness in itself, and oddity we can not truly contemplate. At times, laughter is a sign of happiness, and joy, at others - It is to respond, precipitate, to a joke, a crudeness of sorts, then at other times it is a thing that appears when once is strongly influenced by his mug at a tavern.