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Chronicles of Fandaria Prologue. The battle had waged for sometime, and now the sun was beginning to set. Barbarians, considered brave warriors in their homeland, had set this trap at the base of the mountain pass, perhaps weeks in the waiting. Clouds of dust, filled with blood and sweat rose and fell all across the battlefield; large plumes of thick, black smoke rose from burning wagons. Men and horses cried out, mostly screams of agony as spears or swords met flesh, and the occasional gun shot could be heard as an anxious officer fired upon an enemy that was too far for a swords biting sting. The young mage cast his eyes to the sky. Around him, battles where being fought, like that of his companion, a paladin, who even now was screaming a battle cry as he protected the magician. His eyes fixed on a white speck moving across the smoke filled sky, a white bird too far off for even his keen eyes to make out any details about it. He felt relief at the sight of the bird floating lazily above the battle for he knew, if the bird was there, another of his companions was well; as well as one could be expected to be in the mists of a raging battle such as this. His mount shifted underneath him, and he heard the sound of his paladin companion charging his own steed forward, screaming as he met head on with new attackers. The cries, the sounds of swords violently violating flesh rung in his keen ears, and he stared up at the skies, his mind a million miles away with that of a bird floating above the death and destruction. His attentions were suddenly brought back down to earth as a sword shot up, between his ribs and his arm, the slight sting of the sword, biting into the first layer of his flesh. He turned quickly, and met eyes with the tall dark skinned man, his face covered in blood, he’s matted black hair dripping with gore, his gray eyes filled with rage. With a fluid motion, the sword was yanked back from whence it came, without harm being brought upon the mage. “Keep your mind on the battle, or you’ll end up with one of these in your guts and coming out your back!” “Aye! Sorry.” he gasped. “Don’t sorry me! You end up dead, it’s not skin off my nose,” he growled at the mage through gritted teeth.
Approximate Word count = 1626
Approximate Pages = 6.5
(250 words per page double spaced)
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