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Angela Soria

United States

A mediocre writer has appeared what do you do??

Message to Readers

Something I 'm coming up with for the characters I made in another one of my pieces called "Their Ends". Please look over and tell me what I missed in editing and let me know if I should continue? Please, and thank you.

Sage's Tale : A WORK IN PROGRESS

March 11, 2016

FREE WRITING

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    The summer breeze danced all around the meadow grass before bouncing off the rocky cliff walls that surrounding the hidden meadow. This scene would have been beautiful to the young elf's eyes if there wasn't half smoldering tents and blood spatters everywhere. Brunt blue and purple flags flapped wildly in the breeze, as if they were desperate to the leave this place, and forget the horrors they have seen. The young elf cautiously walked through the camp she crinkled her nose at the strong smell of burning corpses "what happened here" she thought as she continued walking towards the center of the large campsite.
Passing by what looked to be a cage something caught her eye, she stopped to investigate. She kneeled down to pick up a sword that was slightly buried under a charred piece of fabric. It was heavy and look to have been bent as if it was used to pry something open, carefully inspecting the sword she saw there was an inscription on the hilt. She studied the inscription more realizing it was a dwarven name. "Sar-goth?" she read feeling confused as she felt a mix of unknown emotion wash over her.
                *SNAP* she spun around on her heel dropping the sword as she searched for the source of the sound, only to find a hooded figure standing just thirty feet away. “Who are you” she called out as she stared intensely at the figure, its face was hidden covered by the black cloak they wore. The figure turned around and walked away, “follow me” they said  in a whisper so quiet it match the strength of the breeze that danced in the meadow before they took off in a sprint. “HEY, get back here” she called out before giving chase.
  The figure movements were graceful as they jump over smoldering tents with ease, they moved so fast they cause the air whip around them putting out small flames that still burned around them. The world seemed to stretch and distort and before she knew it the figure had run inside a cave into the wall surrounding the meadow. She skidded to a stop in front of the cave she felt as if her feet were lead. She stood there at the entrance of the cave "hello" she called out, her voice seemed to echo back at her before it died.
                There was complete silence everything seemed to go still even the breeze that had playfully danced across the meadow had disappeared. She took a step forward and step into a puddle she looked down only to be greeted with her face reflecting in a deep red puddle. She carefully bent down dip her fingers into the liquid before bringing them back to her nose, it smelled of the bittersweet aroma of wine mixed with blood. “Child of the man who names his sons in numbers and his daughters in herbs” she dropped her hand quickly from her face “listen close Sage”. How did he know my name she thought to herself before the voice continued to speak? "You will lose someone near, you will shed countless tears. But Sage my dear it's the grief that follows you should fear”. Sage continued to listen as the world behind her faded into nothing, “You must persevere and not give into the bottle's cheer if you cannot then I afraid your end will is near." Before she could ask the voice what it meant and arrow was shot out of the darkness straight toward her.
 

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