Chapter 1 Only Revenge
The caustic smell of the poisoned water seemed almost stuck inside his nostrils. The aroma of the fire right in front of him could not hide the smell of the acidic waves lapping at the shore. It seemed almost fitting that he would end up in such a desolate and horrid place. He eyed the strange plants that sprang up through the sand and which were even covered in salt residu where they were sitting. Fynor flicked off some of the salty sands from his wide trousers. Nothing seemed to really faze the strange goat-headed man. Not even this desolate hellscape. "Dragonfire is horrible," Syrnarak said as he rubbed the sand between his fingers. "It sure is. I think. I don't know actually, never seen it up close," Fynor replied and seemed to stare off in the distance. "You can see the devastation it leaves behind right here on these shores. Do you need any more proof?" "Well, it allegedly was dragonfire that caused the Burned Fields, but nobody survived, how can we be sure?" "What else can cause such wanton destruction? Surely nothing made by mortals. It has to be Dragons." "Well if you say so," Fynor replied and smiled at Syrnarak.
They sat in silence for a while again. Looking at the waves come and go slowly, eating away at the beach, but never truly consuming it. "What do we do now?" Fynor's question broke the silence and Syrnarak thought for a while. He could not go back. Everything was lost, his village burned to the cinders, much like the fields they trekked through for the past couple of weeks. Only the shore in front of them gave them pause for Syrnarak could not see a safe way to cross the Xothirian Sea. Turning back was not an option. Well, not now at the very least. "Still here, Syrn?" Fynor interrupted Syrnarak's thoughts and he almost wanted to lash out at the satyr, his nostrils flashing and fire in his eyes as he looked at his companion. "Only revenge is on my mind. I cannot think of anything else, but I see no way of achieving that in our current situation," he answered and sighed, the grip around his large battle-axe relaxing before he put it against the cliff wall. "Not by yourself no and I must admit that I'm not really of much use in such endeavors. Which means only one thing: we need friends." Syrnarak looked at the satyr's grinning face. It was so easy to see a fool behind that open, friendly and often smiling face, but he was not as foolish as he appeared.
Syrnarak's droopy ears flicked as he heard the noise from the clifftop. Marching feet were coming closer making Syrnarak frown. "It's not them. I've spotted them a while back, seemed to be all of the female persuasion," Fynor said with a sly smile on his face. "Maelchon warriors," Syrnarak exclaimed with a surprised look on his own face. "It would seem so. I recall my captain telling me that they recently retook Shaldorn from the man who defeated them. If I recall correctly that man was…" "Erthar," Syrnarak interrupted him, his nostrils flaring again as the rage surged through his body. "Shaldorn it is. Clyadia owes me for what Erthar did to my people." The fire in his eyes came back as he finally saw a way to achieve his vengeance as the noise of the marching feet slowly disappeared to the west.
Chronicle of Syrnarak: Vengeance
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- Lid geworden op: za jan 16, 2021 12:55 pm
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Mooie start van een nieuwe verhaallijn op het Continent ARA, OrangeSpaceman!
Ik ben maar zo vrij geweest om voor degenen die zo'n verhaal makkelijker volgen in het Nederlands, er maar weer een pdf'je aan te wijden.
Ik ben maar zo vrij geweest om voor degenen die zo'n verhaal makkelijker volgen in het Nederlands, er maar weer een pdf'je aan te wijden.
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