The Aielind Chronicles: Journey

Chapter One: Pyk

SPLASH!!!

Immediately Pyk awoke to bucket of water dousing him. "What in Dagmar!!" He yelled as he spit what he originally assumed to be water from is mouth, but quickly he realized is was a bucket of piss. He ran his hands through his soaked blue hair and laughed quitely to himself. Oddly enough, this still wasn't the worst treatment he had ever gotten.

He looked at his surroundings. It was hard to focus. His eyes hadn't yet adjusted to the dark and the urine was stinging his eyes. He rose to his feet and began to feel around the walls. They were made of a chalky stone. It was easy to tell because of the light dusty residue he could feel on the tips of his fingers. He continued to run his hand along the wall. It wasn't long before he stopped touching stone and felt something new. It was metal. He continued to investigate it, and realized that it was a bar. And beyond that seemed to be a wooden door. As his eyes finally began to adjust he could see a medium sized window cut out of the wood. A man stood there looking at him, grinning widely. Pyk took another look around himself and realized where he was. He was in a cell or a dungeon of some sort.

Pyk sat back down with his back against the bars. The place made his skin crawl and his nose itch. It was one of the most disgusting places he had ever been in. Feces littered the dirt floor and seemed to be smeared along the walls. Pyk pulled his legs back as rodents scurried past his feet. A shiver crawled down his spine.

Pyk looked up again to see the guard outside his cell. "Get up! The Chief and Princess are on their way to see you."

Pyk did as he was told. He leaned agasint the cells bars. He still felt groggy and disoriented. He rubbed the back of his skull and winced in pain, trying to remember how he got in this cell.

"Ah, right" he thought to himself. Recalling back to what got him into this situation.

Pyk had been studying himself in a shop window. His head and face were covered with a cowl and shawl as to not draw attention to himself. Which was already quite difficult. Pyk had never really fit in amongst the Elf Clans. He was different, even for an Elf.

He looked down at his hands. They were an ashy grey. It looked as if he lit a fire, waited for the embers to cool and expire then rubbed the chalky silt on his entire body. He pulled up his sleeve and inspected his arm. He saw the deep scarlet red markings that slithered and swirled across his skin. He'd had them for as long as he could remember. The markings covered most of his body. For some time he believed they were tattoos, but began to realize that more than likely, that wasn't the case. It seemed that they were apart of him.

Pyk had no memory of his past or of who he really was. The earliest memory he had was of waking up on the side of an empty road. He had traveled around much of Aielind, searching for answers.

Because of his appearance, Pyk was shunned everywhere he went. He quickly found out that if he were to conceal his face, and most of his skin, he'd fade into the background. Pyk had no home and no people to call his own. Living on the streets was difficult, but he was a survivor. A little courage and a little cunning went a long way for a thief and an outcast. What truly kept him motivated however, were answers. Answers he knew were out there.

This happened frequently to himself. He'd space-out and become so focused on his looks and what life he could remember, that he'd forget about the moment he was in. Pyk snapped out of his daze. He adjusted his shawl so that only his eyes could be seen. The only odd thing, was that his eyes seemed to be the singular thing about him that was...normal. They were a brilliant bright blue, almost resembling ice.

Night was about to be upon the High Clans capital city of Islagroth. MoonStones began to light up around the city. Their soft bright light, illuminating the streets. Pyk was always curious how MoonStones worked. They were these orbs about the size of a closed fist. In the daylight they were nowhere to be seen. As if they just, disappeared. But at dusk, as if on que, they came out of hiding and would begin to shine. It was as if the two moons of thier world had given birth to hundreds and hundreds of these small spheres that gave off a gentle comforting light. They floated hither and thither, letting people bask in thier ambience.