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A first-time try at a story set in the realms of Terarknorn. And before you ask "is it about Ferazel?", let me say: I don't know. He didn't tell me his name... rUmbler
Let me know what you think!
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A lonely habnabit overlooked the vast green expanse of the valley below him. Above him a hawk swooped, striking a prey in the stony hills. The bird rose again with a small mammal in it's claws.
Following the majestic bird on it's flight to a hidden nest, the habnabits eyes watered. The strenght, the agility, the beauty of the bird. If only he could attain even the smallest portion of that in his own life.
Collecting his simple wandering-staff he continued on his journey of initialization. He followed a faint animal-trail that led towards the towering mountain-tops.
Three weeks already had he wandered on foot from his home in the caverns. How many weeks more he had to travel, he did not know.
He followed the ancient traditions of his people. The morning he came of age was for ever etched into his memory.
Two of the elders had showed up at his door. His younger brothers had eagerly awoken him. It was a great honour to have the elders as guests.
When he tried to invite them in they had refused. Instead they had mocked him. Called him a boy, a child. They had made him angry, angry enough to answer them. He had called them old fools.
The silence had almost been physical. The elders had only looked at him. He could feel his nose grow pink of embarrasment. Then one of them had had simply said: "Well, then prove that you're not an boy and not an old fool. Prove that you're a man worthy to be accepted in our tribe."
He knew that the time had come. Leaving his home, he followed the elders to the central cavern. Most of the tribe was already assembled. The children stood in the back of the crowd, then women and in the inner circle the men stood.
The crowd parted for the elders, he followed them into the midst of the people. Passing throught the throng he saw friends and people he knew. They didn't look at him. Their eyes were set towards the center of the cavern.
In the middle the greyest of the elders awaited him. The ceremony was quick, but nevertheless painful. "You're but a boy, fiddling with stones and mushrooms. Prove that you're a man worthy to carry your own pickaxe." The elder held out a simple staff. "Do not return without your true name and the sign of manhood".
He had to accept the staff. With it he accepted his fate to leave the tribe, to journey beyond the furthest cavern he'd ever seen. To leave the darkness and enter the world of light and wind.
As a token of his thoughts a strong gust of wind blew back his hood. His hair bristled in the wind and his deep green eyes shimered in the light. The sun was painful to his eyes, used to the deep darkness of the caverns as they were.
It was with excitement and a tint of fear he'd left the cavern he'd called home for his whole life.
End of part one
------------------ rUmbler Confusion reigns. Please advice.