D
DizzyFromFumes
Guest
Fable: A Second Means To A Fairy Tail End.
I used to write way back in the day and as I read threw a few of these very well written stories I realized that a few of the writers hear have inspired me to write again...so hear is 1st part to the fable story I have written.
p.s. I welcome any advice you may have on the story...all input is welcome.
Fable: Threw The Eyes Of A New.
The story of a new hero.
Prologue: A Sudden Interruption
As the sun set in a large acre of land, atop the foot hills surrounded by mountains a few miles North West of Oak Vale. The high temperatures quickly declined as to retreat from the bitter cold of the early winter breeze. The leaves on the surrounding trees seemed to disappear over night and the wild life was already taking refuge in any place it could find to keep warm. An old man stood alone on the foot of a rickety old porch on the southern side of an old cottage. He had just concluded a successful day of hunting and was winding down for the night. "Winters has come early this day, I see." Muttered the old man to him self as he took a long drag from his pipe. "I'd do good to gather some more fire wood before morning." The old man let out a large puff of smoke and took a small sip of ale from a large medal cup. As he drew firm in mind on thoughts of preparation for the in coming season he was quickly struck out of his thoughts by a loud and vociferous scream.
It was coming from the tree line a bit of distance in the direction he had been so blindly staring. It was a young woman barely dressed as though her clothes had been ripped from her body and she was running frantically in his direction. A few feet behind her were 3 unfamiliar men, dressed in darker clothing, with cloth to cover the unfamiliar features of there faces from just below there eyes and they were barreling down fast on the young woman. "Highway Men!" The old man muttered in a raspy deep gasp. He quickly drew up a long flint stock musket that was leaning up against the pillar just to his right. The pillars held up the roof over hang directly above the porch. He took aim and whistled. As the first shot rang out and echoed of the surrounding mountain sides, the first bandit dropped quickly to the unforgiving earth beneath him in a sickening thud and a very familiar face to the old man came running out of the door to the old cottage directly behind where the old man was standing. Good boy Whisper, muttered the old man to the old dog at his feet.
Whisper was the only friend the man ever needed and was just as good a protector to the old man as he was a friend. "Fetch!" Yelled the old man and Whisper took off in the direction of the in coming interruption. The old man quickly drew a cartridge from one of the pouches hanging from his belt, ripped off the paper end of the cartridge and threw it away; keeping the main end with the bullet in his right hand he dropped it down into the barrel. The cartridges consisted of a spherical lead bullet wrapped in a paper cartridge which also held the gun powder propellant. The other end of the cartridge away from the ball would be sealed with a twist of paper. The old man then made a few other quick preparations and began packing the cartridge down with the ramrod from the musket when he glanced up to see that the remaining two Highway Men had caught up to the young woman. As they struggled to keep her contained, the old man knew that it would be only a matter of seconds before Whisper caught up to them and again took aim. Firing off a second round as the true marksman and hunter that he was, the old mans second shot fell violently on its mark and a second Highway Man dropped to the ground.
By this time the third bandit seeing the odds quickly were not in his favor, began running frantically as the woman had back in the other direction with Whisper nipping very closely at his heals. The old mans whistle rang out again and Whisper obediently halted his chase and returned to the feet of his master. As the young woman got to the foot of the steps leading up to the porch of the old cottage, she collapsed to her knees. Out of breath she looked up to see her saviors standing on the porch a few steps above her and in what matter of energy she had left she uttered out "Thank you kindly sir. For with out you both, I would have been surely died this evening." "Come inside lass.” Said the old man. “For after that ordeal, I’m sure you will be needing some food and shelter. Winter is upon us and I would sure hate to see you waste away in that cold, after all the effort we put into keeping you alive." And with that the three went inside and closed the door behind them. The old man was right. Winter was upon them. And in those foot hills there would soon be many a days before there would be a day warm enough to step foot out side again.
Chapter 1: Familiarities
The night crept by with an in golfing sense of curiosity for the old man. He had been lying in bed for what seemed to be hours with thoughts as to where this young woman had come from and why did it seem as though the men that had been chasing her, wanted her a lot more alive than dead. Something was almost definitely not right.
The fallowing morning the young woman awoke to the smell of breakfast being made. The old man was up before the crack of dawn preparing there meals for the day, for he him self did not sleep a wink. “Good morning sir” replied the young woman as she crept in to the main room of the old cottage. By the looks of it, you could tell that the man had been living hear for quit some time. The cottage was two stories high to the mere eye, but seemed to have more than just the two levels buried with in its old walls. Made mostly of bricks of stone and wood, the old cottages architecture was very similar to that of the many houses that use to fill the town of Oak Vale and made solely by the hands of the man who still occupied it to this very day. “Morin’n.” Muttered the old man. “May I inquire as to how you slept?” “Why yes, your kind sir. I didn’t not sleep as well as I had the days before the events that transpired.” The young lady wearily replied. “I see.” Said the old man and before the man could ask any further questions the young lady chimed in again, “I do not believe we have been formally introduced kind sir. I’m Anabel, Anabel Oriold.” “Tis a pleasure to make your acquaintance Miss Anabel, I am Aylwin. No family name is needed, for it has been along time since an old man like myself has had any other family hear other than Whisper.” Whisper hearing his name peaked up from the corner of the space he had taken up in the corner of the room near the fire place. Whisper laid there a lot as this was Whispers favorite spot in the whole house. “Aylwin, where have I heard your name before?” Asked Anabel. “I don’t believe you have!” Grumbled the old man as if to get angry. “No.” said the young woman “I have heard of you. No need to explain dear sir, It would seem that I know far more about you, than you know of me.”
Aylwin now done cooking the food that had been cooking in the kettle pot when the young woman walked into the room, fixed the two of them a hearty bowl. Wild berry porage was an old recipe that his mother would make for him and his sister when he was a young lad. “Don’t touch.” Replied Aylwin. “It’s very hot! Now! About this crazy talk of you knowing about whom...I am! Its nonsense, you hear me? Pure nonsense! You know no more about me than I know of you. Now before you eat, you tell me exactly what happened to you out there or so help me God! I will throw you back out there into the cold!” Seeing the look on the old mans face change from humble to hatred, quickly made the young lady completely aware of the monster she was now dealing with. The stories were true and for the first time in many years, someone in the world of Albion took interest in the man and he didn’t seem too much happy about that.
“I do apologize sir that was entirely rude of me. Where are my manners? That is no way for me to thank my savior.” Replied Anabel. “Well” she began; “If you must know” the old man took up his pipe from his vest pocket, placed a large chunk of pipe tobacco inside, lit it and began taking a few small puffs. “A few days ago I had been off in the groves that surrounded my home picking wild flowers and berries for my mother when I smelled smoke. This was not the familiar smoke of the black smith or the wonderful smoke smell from the smoke house in town. It was fire! I looked up to see large thick clouds of smoke rising from bright ruby red flames coming from the direction of town. My father and mother where in town!” the young woman began to cry. Tears were running down her face. “My father use to tell me the old tales of Old Oak Vale and the story of a young boy who quickly grew into an untimely hero and those words stuck out in my head. For there were vast similarities to my fathers old stories and what may have been happening at that very moment. He said Anabel if you are ever in doubt as to whether your life is in danger, I want you to run! Run and get as far away from New Oak Vale as you possibly can.” The old mans eyes grew wide with interest. “New Oak Vale” he muttered. “They must have restored the town some years ago, yes?” She quickly agreed. “Yes, shall I go on?” the old man nodded and she began again.
“So that’s what I did. I ran. I soon realized that my father had been right. Oak Vale was burning, its people murdered and I was surly in danger of joining them. There were bandits crawling all over the town caring pistols, daggers, swords and torches and they were burning everything. Nothing had been spared. I couldn’t believe my eyes, for you could hear the screams of the town’s people who had fallen by the blades of these terrible men from where I was standing. Running away I ducked behind rock and trees so as not to be spotted. I ran for miles and began to get much too tiered to carry on. When I felt safe I took shelter under an old oak tree deep in the woods at the base of this hear mountains and began to cry. Everything I knew had been burned to the ground in front of my eyes and I now was truly alone. Not knowing it at the time, I must have cried myself to sleep. I had been awoken out of my sleep in the fallowing morning by a terrible nightmare. A nightmare that while true in the aspect in which it came, it had seemed a lot less real in my dreams. Not knowing where I was headed I stood up and continued walking in the direction that I had been running the night before. Over the next few nights I had walked threw the woods an as I got to the edge of these very foot hills, I was attacked by four very brute men with masks. Four of the same men who had attacked my village, just days ago. I managed to escape….”
....more in the works and will soon be added. thank you for reading.
I used to write way back in the day and as I read threw a few of these very well written stories I realized that a few of the writers hear have inspired me to write again...so hear is 1st part to the fable story I have written.
p.s. I welcome any advice you may have on the story...all input is welcome.
Fable: Threw The Eyes Of A New.
The story of a new hero.
Prologue: A Sudden Interruption
As the sun set in a large acre of land, atop the foot hills surrounded by mountains a few miles North West of Oak Vale. The high temperatures quickly declined as to retreat from the bitter cold of the early winter breeze. The leaves on the surrounding trees seemed to disappear over night and the wild life was already taking refuge in any place it could find to keep warm. An old man stood alone on the foot of a rickety old porch on the southern side of an old cottage. He had just concluded a successful day of hunting and was winding down for the night. "Winters has come early this day, I see." Muttered the old man to him self as he took a long drag from his pipe. "I'd do good to gather some more fire wood before morning." The old man let out a large puff of smoke and took a small sip of ale from a large medal cup. As he drew firm in mind on thoughts of preparation for the in coming season he was quickly struck out of his thoughts by a loud and vociferous scream.
It was coming from the tree line a bit of distance in the direction he had been so blindly staring. It was a young woman barely dressed as though her clothes had been ripped from her body and she was running frantically in his direction. A few feet behind her were 3 unfamiliar men, dressed in darker clothing, with cloth to cover the unfamiliar features of there faces from just below there eyes and they were barreling down fast on the young woman. "Highway Men!" The old man muttered in a raspy deep gasp. He quickly drew up a long flint stock musket that was leaning up against the pillar just to his right. The pillars held up the roof over hang directly above the porch. He took aim and whistled. As the first shot rang out and echoed of the surrounding mountain sides, the first bandit dropped quickly to the unforgiving earth beneath him in a sickening thud and a very familiar face to the old man came running out of the door to the old cottage directly behind where the old man was standing. Good boy Whisper, muttered the old man to the old dog at his feet.
Whisper was the only friend the man ever needed and was just as good a protector to the old man as he was a friend. "Fetch!" Yelled the old man and Whisper took off in the direction of the in coming interruption. The old man quickly drew a cartridge from one of the pouches hanging from his belt, ripped off the paper end of the cartridge and threw it away; keeping the main end with the bullet in his right hand he dropped it down into the barrel. The cartridges consisted of a spherical lead bullet wrapped in a paper cartridge which also held the gun powder propellant. The other end of the cartridge away from the ball would be sealed with a twist of paper. The old man then made a few other quick preparations and began packing the cartridge down with the ramrod from the musket when he glanced up to see that the remaining two Highway Men had caught up to the young woman. As they struggled to keep her contained, the old man knew that it would be only a matter of seconds before Whisper caught up to them and again took aim. Firing off a second round as the true marksman and hunter that he was, the old mans second shot fell violently on its mark and a second Highway Man dropped to the ground.
By this time the third bandit seeing the odds quickly were not in his favor, began running frantically as the woman had back in the other direction with Whisper nipping very closely at his heals. The old mans whistle rang out again and Whisper obediently halted his chase and returned to the feet of his master. As the young woman got to the foot of the steps leading up to the porch of the old cottage, she collapsed to her knees. Out of breath she looked up to see her saviors standing on the porch a few steps above her and in what matter of energy she had left she uttered out "Thank you kindly sir. For with out you both, I would have been surely died this evening." "Come inside lass.” Said the old man. “For after that ordeal, I’m sure you will be needing some food and shelter. Winter is upon us and I would sure hate to see you waste away in that cold, after all the effort we put into keeping you alive." And with that the three went inside and closed the door behind them. The old man was right. Winter was upon them. And in those foot hills there would soon be many a days before there would be a day warm enough to step foot out side again.
Chapter 1: Familiarities
The night crept by with an in golfing sense of curiosity for the old man. He had been lying in bed for what seemed to be hours with thoughts as to where this young woman had come from and why did it seem as though the men that had been chasing her, wanted her a lot more alive than dead. Something was almost definitely not right.
The fallowing morning the young woman awoke to the smell of breakfast being made. The old man was up before the crack of dawn preparing there meals for the day, for he him self did not sleep a wink. “Good morning sir” replied the young woman as she crept in to the main room of the old cottage. By the looks of it, you could tell that the man had been living hear for quit some time. The cottage was two stories high to the mere eye, but seemed to have more than just the two levels buried with in its old walls. Made mostly of bricks of stone and wood, the old cottages architecture was very similar to that of the many houses that use to fill the town of Oak Vale and made solely by the hands of the man who still occupied it to this very day. “Morin’n.” Muttered the old man. “May I inquire as to how you slept?” “Why yes, your kind sir. I didn’t not sleep as well as I had the days before the events that transpired.” The young lady wearily replied. “I see.” Said the old man and before the man could ask any further questions the young lady chimed in again, “I do not believe we have been formally introduced kind sir. I’m Anabel, Anabel Oriold.” “Tis a pleasure to make your acquaintance Miss Anabel, I am Aylwin. No family name is needed, for it has been along time since an old man like myself has had any other family hear other than Whisper.” Whisper hearing his name peaked up from the corner of the space he had taken up in the corner of the room near the fire place. Whisper laid there a lot as this was Whispers favorite spot in the whole house. “Aylwin, where have I heard your name before?” Asked Anabel. “I don’t believe you have!” Grumbled the old man as if to get angry. “No.” said the young woman “I have heard of you. No need to explain dear sir, It would seem that I know far more about you, than you know of me.”
Aylwin now done cooking the food that had been cooking in the kettle pot when the young woman walked into the room, fixed the two of them a hearty bowl. Wild berry porage was an old recipe that his mother would make for him and his sister when he was a young lad. “Don’t touch.” Replied Aylwin. “It’s very hot! Now! About this crazy talk of you knowing about whom...I am! Its nonsense, you hear me? Pure nonsense! You know no more about me than I know of you. Now before you eat, you tell me exactly what happened to you out there or so help me God! I will throw you back out there into the cold!” Seeing the look on the old mans face change from humble to hatred, quickly made the young lady completely aware of the monster she was now dealing with. The stories were true and for the first time in many years, someone in the world of Albion took interest in the man and he didn’t seem too much happy about that.
“I do apologize sir that was entirely rude of me. Where are my manners? That is no way for me to thank my savior.” Replied Anabel. “Well” she began; “If you must know” the old man took up his pipe from his vest pocket, placed a large chunk of pipe tobacco inside, lit it and began taking a few small puffs. “A few days ago I had been off in the groves that surrounded my home picking wild flowers and berries for my mother when I smelled smoke. This was not the familiar smoke of the black smith or the wonderful smoke smell from the smoke house in town. It was fire! I looked up to see large thick clouds of smoke rising from bright ruby red flames coming from the direction of town. My father and mother where in town!” the young woman began to cry. Tears were running down her face. “My father use to tell me the old tales of Old Oak Vale and the story of a young boy who quickly grew into an untimely hero and those words stuck out in my head. For there were vast similarities to my fathers old stories and what may have been happening at that very moment. He said Anabel if you are ever in doubt as to whether your life is in danger, I want you to run! Run and get as far away from New Oak Vale as you possibly can.” The old mans eyes grew wide with interest. “New Oak Vale” he muttered. “They must have restored the town some years ago, yes?” She quickly agreed. “Yes, shall I go on?” the old man nodded and she began again.
“So that’s what I did. I ran. I soon realized that my father had been right. Oak Vale was burning, its people murdered and I was surly in danger of joining them. There were bandits crawling all over the town caring pistols, daggers, swords and torches and they were burning everything. Nothing had been spared. I couldn’t believe my eyes, for you could hear the screams of the town’s people who had fallen by the blades of these terrible men from where I was standing. Running away I ducked behind rock and trees so as not to be spotted. I ran for miles and began to get much too tiered to carry on. When I felt safe I took shelter under an old oak tree deep in the woods at the base of this hear mountains and began to cry. Everything I knew had been burned to the ground in front of my eyes and I now was truly alone. Not knowing it at the time, I must have cried myself to sleep. I had been awoken out of my sleep in the fallowing morning by a terrible nightmare. A nightmare that while true in the aspect in which it came, it had seemed a lot less real in my dreams. Not knowing where I was headed I stood up and continued walking in the direction that I had been running the night before. Over the next few nights I had walked threw the woods an as I got to the edge of these very foot hills, I was attacked by four very brute men with masks. Four of the same men who had attacked my village, just days ago. I managed to escape….”
....more in the works and will soon be added. thank you for reading.