Bethelamon
November 23rd, 2005, 01:25 PM
I am currently vastly enjoying the world-building process, and am writing all sorts of tales describing parts of the history of my world. So here is one of my short tales I thought Id show you.
Im not really looking for that much literary criticism, this is definately going to be rewritten better sometime soon. Im more looking for your comments on the storyline and the appearance of the world your getting from it (or at least part of it). Tell me if there are any things you particularly like!
I wont describe the backdrop to this tale, such as who the Saints are, but if you want to know, just ask.
OF THE FALL OF ERETH HIRAN AND ITS PEOPLE
Uritheon was one of the ten Saints who came to earth as saviours of the human race. He adopted the folk from the land between the Nemarien Sea and the Eastern Ocean as his people. Hiranmair they called their land, and they built Ereth Hiran as their capital among the foothills of the mountains. South of Ereth Hiran lay the Wild Woods, a deep forest which was said to have a spirit of its own. Uritheon had a love of all living creatures, and often walked in the hidden glades of the Wild Wood where no man has tread. He formed a friendship with the spirit of the wood, which was to last as long as no man hewed any tree. The Wood was left untouched, and in return the Wood tolerated the city of men to the north. Whilst Uritheon was among them, the men of Hiranmair lived in harmony with nature, and their harvests were always full.
After the War of the Saints, Uritheon departed for the heavens, and the men of Hiranmair were left with just his crown to remind them of his love and power. Over the years they became less attached to his memory. Uritheon’s friendship with the Wild Wood was forgotten; indeed the power and danger of the Wood was regarded merely as superstition. Men began to fell the trees to fuel their furnaces and build their houses. The Wild Wood awoke with wrath.
The newly created glades began to re-grow at an alarming rate. Over a short space of years, the forest expanded northwards. It seemed to some that great oaks simply appeared overnight, where before there was pastureland. And one misty morning the inhabitants of Ereth Hiran awoke to find the Wild Wood had reached their walls. Remembering Uritheon’s pact with the trees which they seemed to have broken, many of the inhabitants fled to the northern countries. Some entered the wood with axes, but never returned.
Over the years, the trees crept over the walls, cracking stone and bringing down the ramparts. All who attempted to destroy the tough boughs were struck dead by swinging limbs, and more people fled northward as the walls collapsed and the city fell into ruin. Eventually, fifteen years after the Wood’s assault began, Ereth Hiran was deserted by its people, and had been devoured by nature. Great roots cracked the once well-trod streets, towers lay in great piles of rubble, overgrown with vines, and the great statue of Uritheon in the central square lay broken, choked with undergrowth.
Most of the people of Hiranmair had migrated northwards. Many of them found their way to Vennimair or the Plains of Arden beyond, and settled here. Many of the old Barons and lords set up their own petty kingdoms in the war-torn land that would become known as the Little Duchies in the north of Hiranmair. The hardy folk who dwelt in the south of Ereth Hiran made the great journey across the Red Sands, and here they found the Old Spice Port. These were the men who would become the Corsairs of Red Rock. So Uritheon’s city and crown was lost deep within the Wild Woods, and his people were scattered across the Plateau of the Saints.
Im not really looking for that much literary criticism, this is definately going to be rewritten better sometime soon. Im more looking for your comments on the storyline and the appearance of the world your getting from it (or at least part of it). Tell me if there are any things you particularly like!
I wont describe the backdrop to this tale, such as who the Saints are, but if you want to know, just ask.
OF THE FALL OF ERETH HIRAN AND ITS PEOPLE
Uritheon was one of the ten Saints who came to earth as saviours of the human race. He adopted the folk from the land between the Nemarien Sea and the Eastern Ocean as his people. Hiranmair they called their land, and they built Ereth Hiran as their capital among the foothills of the mountains. South of Ereth Hiran lay the Wild Woods, a deep forest which was said to have a spirit of its own. Uritheon had a love of all living creatures, and often walked in the hidden glades of the Wild Wood where no man has tread. He formed a friendship with the spirit of the wood, which was to last as long as no man hewed any tree. The Wood was left untouched, and in return the Wood tolerated the city of men to the north. Whilst Uritheon was among them, the men of Hiranmair lived in harmony with nature, and their harvests were always full.
After the War of the Saints, Uritheon departed for the heavens, and the men of Hiranmair were left with just his crown to remind them of his love and power. Over the years they became less attached to his memory. Uritheon’s friendship with the Wild Wood was forgotten; indeed the power and danger of the Wood was regarded merely as superstition. Men began to fell the trees to fuel their furnaces and build their houses. The Wild Wood awoke with wrath.
The newly created glades began to re-grow at an alarming rate. Over a short space of years, the forest expanded northwards. It seemed to some that great oaks simply appeared overnight, where before there was pastureland. And one misty morning the inhabitants of Ereth Hiran awoke to find the Wild Wood had reached their walls. Remembering Uritheon’s pact with the trees which they seemed to have broken, many of the inhabitants fled to the northern countries. Some entered the wood with axes, but never returned.
Over the years, the trees crept over the walls, cracking stone and bringing down the ramparts. All who attempted to destroy the tough boughs were struck dead by swinging limbs, and more people fled northward as the walls collapsed and the city fell into ruin. Eventually, fifteen years after the Wood’s assault began, Ereth Hiran was deserted by its people, and had been devoured by nature. Great roots cracked the once well-trod streets, towers lay in great piles of rubble, overgrown with vines, and the great statue of Uritheon in the central square lay broken, choked with undergrowth.
Most of the people of Hiranmair had migrated northwards. Many of them found their way to Vennimair or the Plains of Arden beyond, and settled here. Many of the old Barons and lords set up their own petty kingdoms in the war-torn land that would become known as the Little Duchies in the north of Hiranmair. The hardy folk who dwelt in the south of Ereth Hiran made the great journey across the Red Sands, and here they found the Old Spice Port. These were the men who would become the Corsairs of Red Rock. So Uritheon’s city and crown was lost deep within the Wild Woods, and his people were scattered across the Plateau of the Saints.