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Last Sovereign
this is the beginning exert from the story I'm writing with a friend. I'll add as I write more weekly.
Greetings fair readers. I write this to tell you the tale of the Lucky Lords, as told by Bill the Bard, pronounced Dillion Thermistor, of House Thermistor, the least of the lesser houses of the East Boroughs of Terrandale, capital city of the Forrend Province. Why Bill you ask? Because Dilllion the Bard makes you sound like a wealthy unworthy twat that aspires to make a name for himself willst not really working. And bychance that all that is very true, Bill the Bard sounds far more catchy, and fetches more maidenheads.
Alas this is not my story! This is the story for those who have made their mark, and are worthy of putting plume to parchment to record their deeds. I on the other hand have not yet finished my story and have many maidens to slay and dragons to bed.
This story follows Beldan. Beldan Hide that is, a tanner's son from a small village of Tobb's Belt in the Riverlands of the Red Rim Province. As tradition for the times goes, those baseborn that could not afford even a proper surname, were dubbed with their profession. If you were a fisherman, you were Danyel Codfish, or Rori Fluke. Thus Beldan was born a Hide.
Born of rags. Raised in the rank tanning pits where he worked the leather as a child. Taught that the leather he worked, could work you back and leave you bloody and scarred when his father wished.
Somewhere along the way, Beldan escaped his early life, and left his father behind, facedown in his tanning pits, with a leather thong around his neck.
Who could have known he would be the leader of a group of ruffians, bandits, and cutthroats that would both start and end the Red Harvest War.
© All Rights Reserved
Greetings fair readers. I write this to tell you the tale of the Lucky Lords, as told by Bill the Bard, pronounced Dillion Thermistor, of House Thermistor, the least of the lesser houses of the East Boroughs of Terrandale, capital city of the Forrend Province. Why Bill you ask? Because Dilllion the Bard makes you sound like a wealthy unworthy twat that aspires to make a name for himself willst not really working. And bychance that all that is very true, Bill the Bard sounds far more catchy, and fetches more maidenheads.
Alas this is not my story! This is the story for those who have made their mark, and are worthy of putting plume to parchment to record their deeds. I on the other hand have not yet finished my story and have many maidens to slay and dragons to bed.
This story follows Beldan. Beldan Hide that is, a tanner's son from a small village of Tobb's Belt in the Riverlands of the Red Rim Province. As tradition for the times goes, those baseborn that could not afford even a proper surname, were dubbed with their profession. If you were a fisherman, you were Danyel Codfish, or Rori Fluke. Thus Beldan was born a Hide.
Born of rags. Raised in the rank tanning pits where he worked the leather as a child. Taught that the leather he worked, could work you back and leave you bloody and scarred when his father wished.
Somewhere along the way, Beldan escaped his early life, and left his father behind, facedown in his tanning pits, with a leather thong around his neck.
Who could have known he would be the leader of a group of ruffians, bandits, and cutthroats that would both start and end the Red Harvest War.
© All Rights Reserved
