For people who do not know my fantasy works such as Citadel of Shadows, an excerpt: Today I take my walk to the east and the mountains of the Levant. I leave with no regrets this intriguing Megalith who put my insight and my hard-earned knowledge if a test. But I sincerely believe, yesterday afternoon, have revealed its main Secrets. Of course, I had to use many quElfwindhel Knowledge taught in recent years in order to understand the meanings of pentagrams and hieroglyphic texts are drawn. Still, I managed to find - at least I think so - the link between the two types of illustrations covering its walls. I would not soon forget the hours I spent trying to decipher; and ask for more information about this monolith and etchings reached the end of my trip once. I will question those who are waiting for me there, in the heart of the Citadel of Shadows. The day is not yet on the horizon, when I first set my eyes toward the mountains of East and Levant. The last stars still twinkle in the night sky that stretches above my head. The third moon is disappearing behind the highest peaks appearing in the distance. While grabbing my package, I see enigmatic hoots several hundred meters from the lift and Pierre camp I set before her. The embers of my fire still glowing camp, I understand immediately that I will not be attacked by any creature whatsoever - at least for now. Moreover, the hoots recede rapidly southwards, before dissolving into obscurity. And I begin my new day trip to the East. In fact, the sun rises just now. And I continue my journey through the plain. Monts du Levant is approaching fast for me. I think I have reached by tomorrow or day after tomorrow maybe ... After several hours of walking, the Monts du Levant appear closer than I ever. They stood in front of me and now almost completely obscured my horizon. Their masses blackish, steep gradients the impressive rise beyond the grassy plain. I also now realize that their walls are cracked in many places, and deep crevices gradually sneaked them. I still see many rocks colossal dimensions clinging to the sides of cliffs; some of them kept their places no one knows what miracle. Im sure he only needs a tiny blip tectonics that whole sections of the wall collapsing on themselves, causing most of it with her. I also distinguish clusters of multicolored brambles has countless other places. When I look, I seem to see some sort of cancerous evil grip strength with a sick man until he dies. These deposits scattered throughout the mountain range that represents the Monts du Levant agglomerate and it seems progress - slowly but surely - in all directions; there are even some who are starting to encroach on its highest peaks; where eternal snow, and dark clouds scattered lightning streaking the sky constantly and resonate a roaring thunder. I guess where the imposing Citadel of Shadows hides at the sight of all those daring to brave the dangers of the plain. But this does not impress me much. I continue my journey to the east, remaining constantly on my guard. At any time, I am about to unsheathe my short sword, or a murmur Incantation; a sort of protection against the undead or Magic Bullets for example. I am ready to defend my life dearly against the innumerable creatures that haunt the grassy steppe on which I regularly distinguish footprints with strange shapes and varied measurements. Sometimes also, it is just as scratches, sharp nails as if out of nowhere, had progressed to the ground a few meters before suddenly disappear into nothingness. I remain suspicious and my eyes constantly scan the horizon, ready to act accordingly at the slightest alarm. Especially since, suddenly a thick fog covering the plain. I see now more than a few yards ahead of me. In addition, a dismal wind rises. His breath goes through the steppe and drapes the scene of an icy blizzard whose breath is spread everywhere; creeps up under my cloak of protection and chills me to the bone. This will prevent me anyway not to go forward. I advance with even more determination I know that the final destination is at hand ... For a moment, the fog extending its wings on the plain prevents me from advancing to the east and the Monts du Levant at a steady pace. I have no point of reference that can tell me if Im going in the right direction. Fortunately, sometimes, its scrolls fray, and then I can discern the huge cliffs that rise to the east. But I feel that Im not really close. I therefore take, whenever I have the opportunity to read on the floor what path I should take. It is not easy, with this thick fog which hampers the discernment of what is before me, beyond a few steps. What frightens me more, however, are the claims that I see hoots suddenly. Sometimes I also hear the sounds of wings being deployed, I guess greenhouses birds suddenly tearing the ground while emitting a loud, hoarse cry echoing in the silence. Then, suddenly, nothing more sound to hundreds of not round, if not the constant whine of icy wind browsing the plain. He now ran me a little over its polar breath, and my thin cloak is a mere bulwark against his repeated assaults. I do not know if I can take much longer if he continues to harass me. Im wondering if its appearance so sudden is not due to a powerful Spell. Indeed, it has emerged suddenly from nowhere at the same time - virtually - or the water a yellowish gray has engulfed the plains. I am increasingly convinced, moreover, that it is related to the latter. I also have the feeling of being watched, spied upon. As if eyes peered me without my knowledge, and that fog allowed them to examine me at their leisure without being seen. Who knows, it is perhaps a test that are making me suffer the Masters of the Citadel of Shadows? It would not surprise me. Did I not read in some books of the Grande Bibliothèque, these Mages - who are also experienced quElfwindhel; perhaps more - wish to experience their future students to the limit of their strength? Does not be said that they want to realize, by this kind of scheme, if their future Apprentices are worthy of reaching the ultimate end of their quest? But I will not give up. It is not using this kind of subterfuge they will back me. I waited too long this time, to let me be discouraged by these few scrolls and screaming squalls. Even those shadows I guess regularly at the heart of them, which will prevent me from reaching my goal. I paid too much; I prepare myself for too long to panic at the slightest difficulty. Because I know there will be many more, and much worse Im sure ... The fog that enveloped the plain from what seems like an eternity has now dissipated; it disappeared as suddenly as it appeared. Shadows moved about them, and I perceived that hoots went out as abruptly as it. I am now certain that this was a particularly powerful spell came from the Citadel of Shadows. And I am also convinced that it was developed by one of the Mages that I have to meet. I see perfectly Elwin the Grey Magic manipulate components, whispering the lyrics incantatory necessary for its creation and its dissemination on the steppe. But I know very well that there are many others of his colleagues who could do the same. Especially since, among these, my old Mentor Elfwindhel, had not only friends. His opponents established within the Citadel of Shadows are formidable; they have great influence with the Conclave who presides Designed Building this several thousand years; one of the only buildings that has resisted the Cataclysm, the Fall of the Giants, and the entry of humanity in the Dark Ages. It seems obvious to me that my arrival is expected. It also appears that Im being watched by those with whom I have to improve my Magical Knowledge. And I would not be surprised if I were to undergo comparable tests - or worse - in the future; to as I will plunge further into the Outer Territories; as and when I first rapprocherai peaks announcing the Monts du Levant. My thoughts also send me the picture already, hidden among their eternal highest peaks haze, which are continuously Dungeons Guards Protectors this dark fortress. I strongly reject this table that was imposed on me. I have to focus on the rest of my trip, because it is still far from over. There will be time to think about the challenges that await me, when they present themselves for themselves. For now, I must follow the thin path that draws on the plain herb and yellow color rock night. I always progresses farther eastward; but now with much more ease than when the fog had spread over the plain. In fact, I realize that a source of drinking water almost appears to tens of meters in front of me. I walked over to her, to take advantage of the opportunity given to me to me désaltérer- heat is almost unbearable when the sun is at its highest - and further replenish my half empty. I used it fairly regularly after crossing the border. And I do not know if I will have other opportunities to supply me water by the end of my expedition. So I cautiously approach the water point; there is a hollow of several tens of centimeters circumferences appearing in the soil. All around him, other cracks appear. Cracks in zigzagging away before disappearing in the distance between the rocks and dotted with blackish mold that litter the scene. In places arise tufts of grass more like clusters of poisonous thorns. Further, I can see the mountains of the Levant, ever closer; their excessive cliffs, cracked, their snow-capped peaks dominate me with strength; and I feel almost overwhelmed by their heights. But, my eyes linger on this particular excavation of earth or flowing liquid that rotten egg smell. I hold my hands in his direction to let trickle through my fingers. And I to my lips to drink me. The water is cool and refreshing. I absorbed as much as I can. When I look on my face the cavity, having rejected the muddy puddles and various droppings, I realize that I can see the features of my face. Thats when I remember the look I offered when I left the small town of Khem; last island of civilization before I sink my heart external Territory. My name reappears a moment from the depths of my mind Aycart. I remember fondly my long hair spilling over my shoulders. Its natural color is brown mixed with gray. Because, although I am still young - twenty years at the most - the hardships I faced during my adolescence, and during my training at the School of Magical Arts of the Great Library of the City of crystal, have made deep and rub thoroughly. In addition, my face marked by numerous scars may also testify. The most visible of them just starts above my right eye, and ends in the middle of my neck. It makes my eyes, deep blue, naturally fierce. My Mentor Elfwindhel was also the only one able to discern the torments of my soul, and uncover his secret wounds. I still see my aquiline nose and my full lips. On his left side appears a mole whose size makes it more like a reddish stain birth of three or four inches in diameter. This feature has earned me many ridicule and put away when I was doing my apprenticeship in Great Library. I still distinguish the upper part of my body, which, if it is not extremely thin, as has been the case at one time, is thin and frail. My stature has never been a monumental force. Rather, it is a delicacy and fragility that require me to constantly press with a stick whose edges are carved with interlacing and Magic symbols. I just have one word to activate their protective or defensive powers, or a devastating energy escapes and knocks potential attackers. The only truly remarkable specificity on my person is in my hands. These are extraordinary agility, and my fingers long and thin end with sharp nails. They are essential and necessary to the exercise of my art tool, and they have always allowed me to have more ease - as my memory monumental - in handling the various elements required for other Incantations and Spells which I am the owner. If this is the threadbare knapsack I wear the shoulder and acting backpack for storing my travel kit, the only conspicuous sign is that I have a silver ring whose top carved bill is similar to the pommel of my cane: it is a dragon with wings folded, with diamond eyes tear. His reptilian body and legs cling to the world that adorns the top of my stick, and whose golden reflections may illuminate when I ordered it; tail winds also lazily around this Orbe. Unfortunately, todays look great that I presented to my departure from Khem is gone. The dust of the plain blue dress stained my night Mage. Characters designating the order to which I belong have disappeared under a thin layer of dirt. The bottom of my clothing is stained with sticky earth. And fatigue on my face. But the road is still long before I reach the edge of the Citadel of Shadows. Im going to rest for a few moments with this crevasse filled with water. Then I resume my walk towards them, hoping that the dangers that await me not too bully my physical strength.
Posted on: Wed, 29 Oct 2014 11:39:51 +0000
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