Prologue: Winter; POV: JähëiräEdit
Hurricane blizzards clashed with frozen rain blackened the skies. Fell beasts with rusted chains wrapped around metal locks from which the rider's were holding onto with their mangled limbs. The blood dripping onto the ground melting the snow like finger holes. There were seven leading the way and at the end of each chain it found itself wrapped around the wrists of six men and one woman stripped of clothing. Each of the men had distinguishable gashes laying visible upon their bodies with the added element to succumb to frost bite. The woman baring initially the same but also evident of rape around her vaginal area, the blood vessels had been ruptured forming blood clots. Minuscule pointed ears peaked out from underneath her hair which was an odd red of sangria from which dropped below her waist line. The second to the left man bore slashes across his abdomen. Following but only several inches behind them were four more mounted from which appeared to be men that held their spears high, the handles up to the blade from which held the form of emblazoned runes. A tall man standing 6'3" in height with a grimly lit exposure turned to the woman as he whispered in a hush tone as to not alert his captives that he was making communication. "El... f, the n-n-names Gol'mir." He proclaimed in an exhausted tone. "Do you speak the common tongue?" The man posed the inquisition now awaiting her response as if he had a follow up question instantly mapped out in his head. The woman opened her eyes rolling back, amber lamented gaze. Her jaw trembled as her body continued to convulsively shiver. The mouth mimicking words as if she had forgotten how to utter vocals. "S-sil'b-b-brrriän..." Atlast escaped from the woman's lips pausing for a brief moment before continuing in her ongoing stutter. The raging howls of the wind blocking out her final words ending the per-mature conversation as the man just looked down upon the ground as he continued in a frantic attempt to keep up with the pace less be dragged upon the ground 'till his arms severed from his torso. The third man to the left of Gol'mir shifted his head overhearing slightly as he gestured silently before speaking. "H-h-h-h-hey... Gol'dir wa..." The man to the second left of Gol'mir immediately dropped dead face planting into the snow as the men shout out to the front commanding to halt as one of them slips off his saddle. Thick rosewood colored leather boots footed upon his feed with heavy garms stuffed with pockets which held knifes brushed the wind crushing the snow beneath his feet as he walks over. Heavy fur coats adorned to black amour with faded gold trimmings. A thick hood over his head only the stubble of his five o'clock shadow visible as breathe leaks out into the cold air becoming mist for the eyes. The man places two fingers upon the fallen man's throat before standing up and moving back layers of fur coats unsheathing a blade of thirteen inch steel with two inches of width. He swings it effortlessly at the same time stressing his muscles cutting the fallen's own forarms clean off at the elbow as bone fragments and frozen blood hits the bodies of the other three to the side and the snow. The blood dry like curdled bits of milk. Sheathing it back into his wardrobe as he reaches back grabbing the man by his ankles throwing him onto the left snow pile off the chosen trail as the man looks up into the unknown. "Food for the wild..." Ending with that note he fits himself back onto the saddle of his fell-beast. Not but a few seconds had passed before they had began walking once more. Everyone had remained quiet trying to focus on pushing their bodies forward through the cold days and nights that followed. Endless it felt. The tees broke their back to the will of the wind, hailing the branches. The blizzard had at last settled to a calm chill running along the elven woman's boney spine culminating in the stomach retracting subtly. The mens feet hit the ground below as they walked up the captives unchaining them from the locks as the men walked up to the remaining six. "Do you know what is out there?" A man standing infront looking directly between the captives asked, no one answered however sensing the rhetorical tone upon his breathe. The man's head was turned to the left as his right hand surveyed the surrounding environment. "That is freedom... If you can make it beyond the border, we will let you go. If not you'll be taken to the prisons of Gnisiscreúm for interrogation. The beasts of Toragh have their own way. For the prisoners that die in those cells their hacked up into little bits, thrown into a bowl to feed the others. Left to attempt to lick up the few drops of moisture on the walls and floors or to drink your own piss." He concluded before pulling down his sepia brown cloaked hood. Gol'mir and the other proclaimed prisoners, sentenced under crimes or war penalties look out into the chill as the first to proceed with this was the elven woman sprinting off with elegant and inhuman speed physically. Waymar, the leader of the band who had paused his speech chuckling for a moment. "She has gotten the idea well..." the other guards laugh. "You have 24 hours before we come after you, this is a fun game so put on a smile... It'll be the last game you ever play." Waymar finished as Gol'mir instantly ran off the same way the elven woman did as the other prisoners broke off into separate directions.
Note: I plan to continue, as well as reword this already down. Also take notice that this article title may be changed in the future.
Primary Inspirations: The Lord of the Rings, The Elder Scrolls, A Song of Ice and Fire, Redwall, The Kingkiller Chronicles, The Wheel of Time, Echoes of the Great Song