Fog slowly crept over the precipice of the mountain, gently drifting down to the snow laden buildings below. Ice sparkled amid thousands of lanterns as the city's inhabitants congregated to the center of their kingdom. Every face was gleaming with smiles despite the piercing cold. Indeed, the whole area was warmed by their excitement of this morning, for today was the day of giving. It would be filled with heartfelt gifts, children chasing each other while eating treats, and the ceremonial ice giving, which enticed the ice goddess Nivis to let their beautiful city stand for another year, as it had for millenniums past. This city, called Nivea, is the capitol of the great and prosperous kingdom that currently triumphs over the evils of the world. It brought peace and freedom, knowledge and learning, science and religion to all it conquered, and on nights such as this, it seemed it would never fall.
Hundreds of miles away was a bleak and dreary scene so full of death not even crows would come. There the ground was dry and cracked, all the grasses and flowers dried up, withered and dead. Where once this place was known for its' bird song is now known to stay away from unless you wanted death. Only the faint traces of wind moaned in the air, adding to the misery around. This land was death. At the center, sitting next to a long dry riverbed stood a stone fortress. It was just as dark and dreary as the land surrounding it. No sign of life could be seen, except for the light of a single candle in a single window.
The fortress belonged to the Sheikhelns, a dynasty of powerful warriors dating back centuries. Now only a lonely lord and his daughter live there, their great legacy forgotten. The magnificent tapestries that once lined the halls of the fortress now lie in dust while the beautiful oil paintings hung in every room are so coated in grime the original picture can't be found. Before the lord's wife died of pox, the fortress was at least taken care of. The floors were swept and the silver shined, and light filled every hallway. But that was fourteen years ago. Now the state of the fortress is in as bad form as the paitings.
~~~
Hundreds of miles away was a bleak and dreary scene so full of death not even crows would come. There the ground was dry and cracked, all the grasses and flowers dried up, withered and dead. Where once this place was known for its' bird song is now known to stay away from unless you wanted death. Only the faint traces of wind moaned in the air, adding to the misery around. This land was death. At the center, sitting next to a long dry riverbed stood a stone fortress. It was just as dark and dreary as the land surrounding it. No sign of life could be seen, except for the light of a single candle in a single window.
The fortress belonged to the Sheikhelns, a dynasty of powerful warriors dating back centuries. Now only a lonely lord and his daughter live there, their great legacy forgotten. The magnificent tapestries that once lined the halls of the fortress now lie in dust while the beautiful oil paintings hung in every room are so coated in grime the original picture can't be found. Before the lord's wife died of pox, the fortress was at least taken care of. The floors were swept and the silver shined, and light filled every hallway. But that was fourteen years ago. Now the state of the fortress is in as bad form as the paitings.
~~~
