Deren shouldered his pack, breathing heavily. He wasn't exactly the fittest traveler around. Five days. Five hard days of stumbling through thorns and brambles, resting every five minutes, and running away from killer mushrooms. Deren almost wished he had chosen to become something other than a mage in training. Almost. He had made good progress, for someone who wasn't even classified as a full adventurer yet. At sunset today he would reach Heneseys. He stumbled forward into one of the magical portals that dotted Bellocan and stumbled through. He emerged in the Henseys Hunting Grounds I. It was a wide open plain, with rock outcroppings here and there, perfect for bowmen to shot their arrows from. Deren breathed in the wind that was ruffling the yellow grass, and continued onward. His progress was impeded, however, when a burly man stepped out from behind a rock, a huge saber strapped to his back. "Halt! This is my terrain. Anyone who crosses must pay tribute.", he said. Deren, whose nerves were already on the snapping point, mumbled, "Hunting grounds of Heneseys belongs to individual of none. Tribute I pay not to playing man of troll beneath bridge.". The man leaned forward, his nose almost touching Deren's, and breathed menacingly, "What did you just call me?". Deren smelled liquor in his breath. He knew he was no match for this man, even if he was drunk, so he decided to play nice. "Sir, insulting you with names I am not.", Deren said, putting on his sweetest smile. This, however, did not seem to please him. With a roar of rage, he drew his saber and swung. Deren got out of the way just in time, the sword nicking his arm. Are all the other classes as unpredictable as this?, Deren wondered, as the drunken man shouted, "NO ONE CALLS ME SIR!!!". Deren did the only thing he could. He ran.

It seems Aeons isn't interested in literature...

Umm if you want to post go ahead...although it seems that no one in Aeons really likes reading any FF =(

I was wondering how long this thread was going to be left untouched o.o

Freya woke up with a huge bump on her leg, She didnt understand what was going on but then at that moment she then realized that her leg is stuck on a huge hole, with that realization a stinging pain crawled up from her leg to her brain that made her yell... "@#%&#&(@#!!!!!!" even she didnt understand what she said but she knows that she was cussing her heart out.

She felt a weird taste on her lip, that weird taste of blood. She remebered what happened. A pact iron boars where chasing after her and the only thing she can do is run, but she fortunate enough to find a hidden street. But that hidden street was a pit that brought her back to town, and make her land on a not so perfect spot, which ofcourse lead to her unconciousness and cut lip.

"Somebody Help me!!!" she yelled at the top of her lungs. She may be in perion but she in a place where no one goes to; infront of Manji.


hehe... i felt like posting! hehe...

Wow...I haven't seen this thing in awhile...I don'tt even remember who my char is o.O

Hmm...maybe it's only on the Recovery Story I have writer's block...

The moment he had turned the fight into a match of stamina, Derren knew he would lose. Stumbling over loose stones, Derren tripped and fell. The drunken man weaved crazily over to him, and raised his saber, preparing to strike. Derren bit his lip, thinking. Suddenly, he pulled out his quill. "Stay back!", he shouted imperiously, though on the inside he was jittering with nerves. The man halted, if for a moment. "This quill you are seeing?", Derren said, waving it back and forth like a pendulum, "Forged it was by strongest of magicians, so sharp it be that reality cut itself upon it.". The man looked, uncertainty etched on his face. "You believe me not? Watch.", Derren said, and swipd the quill through the air. It was an elementary trick, really. A streak of ink floated in the air, suspended only barely by the little magic Derren knew. The drunken man watched with blood shot eyes as the ink flat into a disc, swirling perpetually. He reached out tentatively, but Derren cried, "Touch it not! Portal to unreality that is, touch you do, then die you will.". The man was now thoroughly cowed, though if he wasn't drunk, he would have seen through the illusion in an instant. Derren twirled the quill casually, making thin ink ribbons spout from its tip. "Over this weapon many wars have been fought. Still fight, do you wish?". Derren drew the quill back as if preparing to strike. At that, the man gave a scream lke a girl and ran away, careening wildly. It was a rather comical sight, watching him slam into every rock he passed. Derren sighed. Maybe a quiet life wasn't so bad after all.