The Unknown

[Minya Collowen]

Alright guys, just so you know, this is my first short story ever....i'm in the process of writing it at the moment. Oh, and it's not called the unknown. I just titled the thread that..because i myself...don't know what i'm writing about yet. Haha...that's right, i'm writing without a plot, an outline, or anything. I'm just kinda writing whatever i feel like and then i'll work off of that. Well, here's the first part:

Eieon, a mist tainted city, shrugged away on the rugged peaks of the Moghrien Mountains. The hushed town lay smothered in the night's shroud, silenced by the storming of the oblivion skies. Fragmented spears, brilliantly lighted, split the graying clouds as piercing rains sliced away at the eath.

Luthaar muttered curses beneath his breath as the taunting win yanked his cloak's hood off his head. His mud-smothered boots sank deeper within the earth's grasp.

"Burn the man who started these bloody storms!" His thoughts were not spoken, but nonetheless were they present. He slid his quivering hand into a soaking pouch, strung to his belt. His fingers fumbled around momentarily before clenching a journey-worn paper. He approached the wooden gate encloasing the town before him.

"Who comes?!" A cotton-haired man stood high within a fortified structure. He held a bow fiercely in his feeble hands, pointed toward the intruder. Luthaar paused to study the area. A long wooded wall stratched out on both sides of the town then slithered around and disappeared off in the distance. There was but a single entrance. "Speak and tell me whence you came or I will slaughter you briefly!" The bent man's voice trembled.


[please inform me of any spelling or grammar mistakes you see. Thanks!]

[Boromir]

Nice start, keep it coming.

[Minya Collowen]

"I am Luthaar...of Lodicea." He retrieved a rain-coated parchment and lifted it toward the crippled man. "I received a letter, a calling per say, and have been entreated to enter your...your town."

"This sssir is a village!" The wrinkled man hissed. "Not a town!"

Luthaar raised an eyebrow questioningly then continued. "Right then, I received a calling and have been entreated to visit your...village."

The old man's eyes examined him accusingly. "Raise that parchment higher! I can't read the bloody thing if you continue to hold it like that!" Luthaar muttered incoherently. He drew his sword, pierced the parchment, then raised it toward the nuisance.

"Is that to your liking, or shall I fetch a ladder so that I might fix it to your skull?" Luthaar simply kept that thought to himself.

"Ah ha!" The man stumbled through his exclamation. "It states here that you are a man of Odk...od...Odkea!" His tongue struggled to catch the words.

Luthaar gave an exasperated sigh. "Do you not see heaven's tears falling? The name has been smeared! The parchment is soaking through and through! It states that I am a man of Lodicea."

"Ah...yes...yes, I see." The haggard pest was defeated. He hurriedly rushed to open the gates, hoping to disguise his shame with celerity.

Luthaar dropped his arm and returned the parchment to his belt. "Thank you." The words were emphasized with a sharp and sudden sheathing of the sword.

Eieon's mighty jaws gaped. Just as Luthaar strode through, they snapped shut behind him, now clenching together. Luthaar shrugged off the event and continued through the village. The sky's unremitting tears drenched Luthaar furthermore as he plodded across the condensed settlement. His eyes surveyed his whereabouts.

Rain abused the straw draped houses, which lay scattered about the muddied earth. Several roads fell into different directions, boggling the keenest of minds. Inns loomed over the thatched roofs of insignificant homes. Their stone structure, worn and stained by Time's brush, served to intimidate. Wooden, wind-tormented, signs swang violently from the numerous Inns and markers, beating against frigid stone. Women slipped into the small markets, purchasing fish, 'tatos, and other such ingredients for the dining hour. The men were at pubs and the children sat hushed inside their homes, shrinking away toward the blazing fireplaces.

Luthaar retrieved the parchment anew, and dissected the words as written:

The Panther Inn
Eieon, Sunset
Meet me on the second floor. Request to visit the Raven. Tap thrice. Let none know of your presence save the bartender whom you shall ask for a drink. Complete the directions above thereafter.

"The Panther." Whispered words escaped Luthaar's cold-cracked lips. He was unfamiliar with the place and frowned at the foreign words. "Now where in bloody hell am I supposed to find-" A fragile woman scurried accross the hushed strees. Perhaps he might find an answer. "Gentlewoman!" Luthaar attempted to catch her attention, and succeeded. The woman's head whipped around, eyes darting left and right with uneasyness. She was of nine and thirty years with graying ringlets framing her face and faded skirts protecting her spirit from winter's approaching blade. Though young, life had visibly worn her body prematurely. "Gentlewoman, hear me. I am searching for an Inn, The Panther." She stared blankly. "I am not from these parts and would greatly appreciate your services."

The haggard woman turned her head to her left, eyes marking the location.

"Over there I assume?" His wait for a response was in vain. "Alright then. Off I go, thankee kind woman."

She took no time to nod before darting across the streest and disappearing into a darkness consumed alley.

"What peculiar people." Luthaar tightened the hood protecting him from the mercury rains.

[Minya Collowen]

He turned his focus toward the direction he intended to persue as his feet soon followed. The night grew increasingly darker and a continuous thudding caught Luthaar's attention. His eyes shot upwards and spotted a slab of wood marked with a panther, beating mercylessly against the enclosure. He walked through the building's opening, as it lacked any form of a door.

The Inn was small and cluttered with empty tables and stools, all circular in shape. A panther's head was driven tightly onto a silver disk, mounted on the wall above the bar table. Behind the table stood a short, stout man, with a rag in one hand and a dirty dish in the other. He feverously rubbed the dish clean and spoke.

"What brings you t'Eieon?" His shrub-like beard muffled his speach.

"I am here on...business. My travelings have been long and weary. I am seeking a place of refuge, to rest."

"Bus'ness?" The man put down the dish and dropped the cloth before it. "Eieon is a quie' place, a rur'l vill'ge. There runs no bus'nesses here."

Luthaar dropped his hood, ebony hair sticking to his bristled beard. "I simply want a room. How much would-" The innkeeper interrupted.

"There are no avail'ble rooms here. I sugges' you go t'nother vill'ge." His head tilted upwards, firm clouded eyes settles on Luuthar.

"With all do respect, I will not leave. I have very important business to attend to. I was sent to meet someone here and-" The innkeeper's eyes lit, but his fierce brows smothered any tenderness he might have shown.

"What is your name?" His voice rumbled.

[Minya Collowen]

"I respond to Luthaar of Lodicea and am-" He was briefly cut off.

"Di'you say Luthaar?" The innkeeper, commonly known as the bartender, ran his calloused hand over his smooth shaven head. He waited for Luthaar's confirming nod before continuing. "Co'e this way. We hava room for you, up th'stairs."

"But I thought you said you had no available rooms." Luthaar's grin was too small to catch notice.

The bartender grabbed a lit candle from the nearest abandonned table and set it in Luthaar's dirtied palm. "Actu'lly, you ought to go you'self. Once you reach th' top, head straight for about three doors dow'. Then take the nearest one to your right, it'll be the one wi' a raven engraved into the front o' it."

Luthaar clutched the brass handle in his fingers. The night grew overpowering, and the Panther was soon drowning in darkness. He worked his way to the stairway, shielding the little light he had with his free hand. "Oh this is brilliant. I can't see a bloody thing!" A cold gust of air sent a paralizing chill through his worn body, snuffing his source of sight. "And it just gets better every bloody time!" He muttered a few profanities before regaining his composure. The paralysis soon wore off as he started forward once again. Once he reached the top of the stairway, he set the useless candle aside. Luthaar's palms were now outstretched, feeling the markings on the wall, in hopes of finding the Raven. He counted three doorways down. "This should be the one I have been searching for." He used his nails to outline the symbol on the door which lay before him. There was a small circle connected to another much larger one, followed by three indented lines. "Feathers." He whispered. "This must be it." His hand fell to a long curved door handle but he quickly jerked it away. It was cold to the touch. Luthaar made a second attempt, this time forcing himself to ignore the excrutiating pain brought on by the dropping temperature, and forced the door open.

"I seek a man I have been sent to meet here." Luthaar spoke to the sitting figure before him. Another candle, quite similar to the first, sat on a small rounded table, which rested beside the shadow of a man.