You keep walking, doing your best to shrug off the being-watched feeling, and soon enough arrive at the door to the old wizards' tower.  You knock.

The old wizard's face appears on the viewpane by the door, his wizened voice crackling from the audio crystal.

"Who goes there?"

You reply "Hello Kemvar, it's me, Arrith."

"Arrith!  Well, isn't that a surprise!  Come on in!"  The door opens, and you step inside.

The wizard's familiar, a talking white cat, converses with you sparingly until the old man makes his way down the stairs to greet you in person.

"Hello my son!" he greets in a booming voice, which you are more or less sure is amplified by magic.  "How fairs the day for thee?"

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A basic, typical fantasy style story with all the classic elements - elves in the forest, dwarves underground, old wizards in towers and the like. It's largely just to experiment with the form more than anything, although the idea formed ages ago before I got depressed.

The idea is that about a dozen characters meet each other along the way on a perilous journey north into the heart of evil/darkness/symbolic force thereof.

Arrith and co head north-west to the capital, Pasaveer, a day or two out from their home town of Terris. Kemvar accompanies them. They are looking for information about a cursed armour, shield and weapon that one of the goblin leaders mutters something about. On your trail is the men with wolf tattoos, and behind them is the rouge Hailyn has been waiting like a lover for.

updated Jul 8 by UltimaDan