Excerpt: The Tree of My Elders from Shaijoku's blog


(A post from an ongoing role-play with Cass Forester.)

He lashed the tree with a clean strike of the sword, which clung to a dry overhang, sounding a clear crack which radiated through the valley. It's name, the tree, was Dae'tar (orcish for 'Soul of Victory') - a thick, knotted specimen of worgwood: a type of scarlet deciduous tree, distinguished by their blossoms and berries; its light branches, shielded by thick canopies of leaves, were speckled with the small heads of inconspicuous white flowers, surrounded by small, petal-like bracts, forming pale bushels that clung to its crown. Its bark was soft, reddish and scaled; where Shaijoku struck, its hide chipped away beneath the blow.

He did this for hours, he had been every day of every week, for the past several months; an exercise of strength, and discipline. Already, had Dae'tar's once-wide and broad trunk been whittled away to more than half its original girth - all from little more than consistent, blunt strikes struck dealt over the span of half a year. However, this tree was old; upon its hide, the father of his father, and his father before him, trained their strokes in the pursuit of mastering the blade. Generations passed by, and now its body had hardened, knotted and scarred.

Nagrand ("Land of Winds" in orcish), was a windswept plain, marred by only the lone rolling knoll for miles - his home, it always had been. Though to the far north and east, it was broken and shattered by steep cliffs lines, canyons, and shelves ... here, it was untouched by little more than fields of grass, shimmering in deep waves beneath a caressing, gentle breeze. Where he stood, he felt like he held dominion over it all; not only as the top of the food chain, an elite among the elite, but God - as if he could reach out, and snatch life by his fingertips. That with his will, this earth would meld and mold, that the winds would shift and churn; that the sun would rise and set.

However, here, it felt that nothing changed; great herds of tabulk, disturbed only by roaming families of clefthoof, inhabited his field of vision, set beneath silent canopies of white clouds, disturbing a clear, blue sky. An empty road - home only to the shade of other nearby trees that crept along the path, split by small walls of ancient stone - overgrown with thick patches of moss and lichen, with the occasional sprouting weed - and the twisted figures of empty lamp posts, half-bent over roads gone un-walked for perhaps centuries. He eyed it warily, that empty road down below; resting beneath a slight slope from where he now stood. Then the shadow of a cloud passed over the mid-noon sun, filling the air with a slight chill; his attention passed, the day would soon be over.

He wiped a slick coat of sweat from his brow clean with the back of his hand, and then returned to striking the tree with greater energy than before. Crack!

Cass Forester: [link]

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Naxina Dawnreaver Supporter
Feb 25 '18
I love the vivid descriptions of the scenery and the details in your writing ^^
Feb 25 '18
Thank you! I'm really happy that you enjoyed it; I'm sure I'll get around to posting more, some day.
Edited Feb 25 '18 Show edit history
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By Shaijoku
Added Feb 25 '18



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