Chronicles of Alrudan: The silver league
Hey guys, so I'm trying my hand at novel writing😁
Lemme know what you think, be brutal, I enjoy the pain!!!!! But seriously, it'll help with growth and development. Hope you like it.
Chapter 1- The innkeeper and his daughter
A shrill, sharp cawing jarred him awake. He groaned, sitting up, brushing tufts of hay out of his tousled hair. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he drew in a deep breath, trying to get himself fully awake. Big mistake. The smell that assaulted his senses made him wrinkle his nose, recoiling. The creature responsible for that heinous stench lay not too far from him, seemingly asleep. He frowned. What part of him had thought it a good idea to sleep in a Vor barn? Oh yeah, the part that knew he was low on cash and unable to afford anything. He sighed again, rising slowly. The loud cawing he’d heard earlier resumed, resonating through the barn. The three Vor he’d had as roommates bellowed, apparently not fans of the sound either. He grinned. “Not too happy about that, eh?” the closest Vor tilted its head to him and snorted, it’s entire body rippling with the motion. He smiled again. It almost looked irritated. Vor were generally docile creatures, what one would call gentle giants. But, like any creature of that size, they were more than capable of defending themselves. Thick-plated foreheads provided them with a battering ram capable of shattering trees, brick, and anything in between. Bulky frames covered in shaggy blue fur, perfect sources of meat and warm clothing. He strolled closer to the nearest one, running his hand behind its ear. The beast lowed happily, its huge head bobbing up and down lazily. He grinned, running his hand through the thick strands of fur.
“you’re awake.” He looked up at the source of the voice. The Innkeeper’s daughter stood in the doorway, a pail in her hand. He smiled. “Good morning, Ma’am. ” She scowled, her bow lips pouting. “I’m not that old, you know. Twenty two isn’t old enough to be called ‘ma’am’. Besides,” she gestured at his ears. “I hear elves age faster than humans anyway. Shouldn’t I be calling you ‘Mister’, or ‘Old man’ or something?” he chuckled. “Technically, elves don’t age faster, we just have a longer life cycle.” Her pretty eyes widened in shock. “My Nana always told me you guys aged faster. She was rather superstitious about a lot of Things. Word of mouth is funny that way, it gets messed up from person to person. So you’re saying Elves live longer? That’s gotta be a pain...So how old are you? You look about my age.” She smiled, blushing slightly. He grinned, brushing a lock of snow-blonde hair out of his Golden eyes. “uh, well…” luckily, before he’d divulged that rather sensitive information, a deep voice boomed out from the doorway behind the girl. “Don’t go around prying into his personal life now, girl! You have enough work to do without chasing after boys!” The girl colored, scowling. “Pa! I wasn’t chasing after him! Geez, you’re so embarrassing!” her father laughed. “that’s my job. So,” he turned to the Elf. “You sleep well? The beasts didn’t bother you or nothing did they?” The Elf smiled. “Not at all, sir. It was rather comfortable.” The Innkeeper snorted. “I know your kind aren’t used to such conditions; you elves are used to a finer luxury, no?” The elf scowled slightly. “Used to? Not at all, sir. As an adventurer, I’ve slept in many a place not quite as comfortable as this. What’s more, my homeland is not quite as forgiving as you’d believe,” he smiled. “The winters are some of the most severe you’ll be glad you never have to endure.” The Innkeeper scratched his large, beefy arm, his russet mustache wiggling with curiosity. “An adventurer, indeed. For someone with no coin on ye, your equipment is rather well-kept. Not to mention that blade.” The elf pursed his lips, shrugging. “for an adventurer to have equipment and weaponry not up to the task, it could cost him dearly. The dungeons are as dangerous as they are rewarding.” The innkeeper scoffed, large brow furrowed. “No need to tell me, long-ear.” He pointed at a large scar, a jagged white line against his tan skin. It ran up his left arm, disappearing into his tunic. It reappeared on his neck, ending just below his chin. “Got this little nick from an Empousa, a few years back. Some people haven’t been so lucky. The dungeon you’re no doubt heading for has spewed many a horror unto this place. Brings to question whether all this was worth it.” A heavy silence hung in the air. The innkeeper’s glare burnt Into the Elf. The Innkeeper’s daughter cleared her throat. “Come now, Pa. It’s not his fault dungeons popped up everywhere…”
“Maybe not particularly, but Elven curiosity did this, Maeve. Their tinkering and meddling did this. I’m sorry, it’s not my place to be harassing you like this. Obviously, it’s not your fault that…. It’s just hard, is all. Were it not fer adventurers going down into those dungeons keeping those monsters at bay…” The elf hung his head. He knew all too well what Elven Curiosity had wrought. Maeve spoke up, her rounded cheeks flushed. “That’s quite selective, no? People use magic left, right and center, yet they’re not willing to thank Elves for that tinkering and meddling. The dungeons and monsters just come with the package.” Her father was silent. Maeve drew in a heavy breath. The topic had gotten too close to home. “Anyway, I’d forgotten why I came in here, heh. Gotta milk the Vor for breakfast! Why don’t you come have some? I’ll set a plate for you, long-ears.” The Elf frowned. “thank you for the offer, but I’ve no money to pay with, unfortunately.” The Innkeeper huffed indignantly. “I should have taken note that you’re an adventurer last night. It’s bad enough you slept in a place like this, while I had warm beds upstairs. Come, have some food, long-ears. You can’t face a dungeon on an empty stomach. You’ll pay me with whatever you find down there.” Maeve grinned, gesturing to the barn entrance. “There’s a tap outside, you can wash up your face there. Then find me inside, I’ll have your meal waiting. We’ll be waiting for the coin though, so don’t you go skipping town. Sounds about fair, don’t you think, long-ears?” The elf could only nod bashfully. “Although,” She mused. “It feels kinda weird calling you ‘long-ears’ all the time. I’m sure even you have a name, right? Or is it one of those gibberish ones a human tongue can’t pronounce?” The elf smiled. “You can call me Dante.”
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