In a small village, a hulking figure lumbered his way to the local inn dubbed, 'The Traveller's Rest'.
He opens the wooden door, warm air smelling of freshly cooked food, booze and filth escapes from the building. The warm lighting from the lanterns illuminates the towering man, revealing his rough and tired face.
The tired man marches on his way to the counter. The commoners can't help but stare at his rusted, mismatched plate covering an old blue-stained tunic. Others kept their eyes on the weapon strapped by the man's belt-line. An aged, but well kept war hammer with a pommel that represented a head of a wolf.
He rests his calloused hands upon the counter. 'What is it that you seek, friend?' The bartender casually greets the tense man, trying to lighten the mood.
'I need to purchase some supplies for my journey.' The man answered, 'I want some bread, cheese and wine.' The man puts his empty water-skin on the counter.
'I'm sorry,' the bartender apologises 'We don't have any cheese or wine left. However, we still have some bread in stock.'
The grizzled man looks up the bartender, then smirks. 'That's fine.' Then hands in a fist-full of coins in exchange of some bread.
The man takes the piece of bread and makes his way out of the inn.
'Wait, sir!' The bartender calls out, 'What about the rest of your coin?!'
The man stops, then looks back, the commoners recoil. 'Keep it.' He responded before leaving the building.
Back to treading on the earthen path, he sees his objective on the horizon, a cobble stronghold.
YOU ARE READING
Remnants of The Wolven Clan
FantasyI've made this short story as a practice for creative writing. As I plan to work on some smaller projects and learn how to write better before working on any larger projects.
