I am starting a Forum Story-Its called Siroc

[CardenIAntauraNauco]

Raynor slept heavily that morning; the night before had seemed endless, and the stormy
wind had not been kind to his stable or to his house. On his roof large patches of fresh
dirt and straw shone through. His stables were temporarily patched with large strips of
leather stretched tightly with grass rope.
Raynor was born in the village of Brador, a small village much like Euthiar, the
one Raynor eventually chose to set up his home. He, however has little memory of
Brador, for he was apprenticed early at the arts of smithing in the fortress of Sylarion. His
time at Sylarion was fondly remembered as was his master Sias a man of strength and
integrity.
The entire villiage had suffered damage much like his, and the villagers must have
suffered a night much like that of Raynor’s, for silence was a widespread curse upon the
small village of Euthiar. Raynor awoke, sat on his bed and thought to himself how very
peaceful this morning seemed.
His small room was illuminated by a window in the in the north corner. Raising
himself from his bed, he walked toward the window, and looked out at his stable, thinking
about the previous night.
“I would have done better to put that bit of leather on the top hole and to the top
leather on the smaller towards the bottom of the roof. It isn’t really all that bad, although
if I had proper light I think it would have turned out a much greater success. Oh well...it
was an easy and an inexpensive solution. Ugh.. I’m going to have to trouble myself with
that idiot Isticar. ”
The Carpenter, Isticar, was an insufferable idiot. Raynor dreaded dealing with the
man and had many times entertained himself with thoughts of beating the pompous
braggart’s head into his chest. Nevertheless if he were to fix his roof today he would have
to see Isticar and get the wood he needed. Raynor turned to a small trunk at the foot of
his bed. He took from it a few coins and hung them in his pouch.
While making his way there he thought of exactly what he would need so as to not
stay long in Isticar’s Yard. When he got there Isticar was sitting outside on a small stump
trying to light a small pile of kindling. He looked up and saw Raynor approaching.
“Ah.. It’s my good friend Raynor. Business has been very good since the storm.
Unfortunately, your profession doesn’t benefit from these little mishaps. Business isn’t
going very well for you is it?” This was exactly the kind of comment that angered Raynor.
“I manage”
“That you do my good friend. So what do you need to buy?”
“ 4 large rods and 4 bushels of thatch.”
Isticar hurried to the back parts of his yard and brought back the shingles and the
staffs. One of the staffs was a bit short but they looked like they would do fine for what he
needed them. He pulled from his pouch six coins and paid Isticar.
Isticar smiled a toothy grin and thanked Raynor for his business. Raynor left the
yard relieved that he had managed to have very little conversation.
After spilling his shingles more than once, he finally reached his house and set them
down in the corner of his room. He decided he would put them on later in the evening
when the sun was not so high in the sky and it was not so hot out.
Raynor’s thoughts were interrupted by the sight of a shadow moving across the
wall of an alleyway on the opposite side of his house; the menacing shadow moved slowly
along the wall as it neared the edge of the house.
A body followed the shadow out from behind the house and into the street.
Raynor immediately identified the creature as a Graan warrior. His cold eyes combed the
streets and the houses. Graans rarely stray from their caverns and never go into an area
inhabited by humans. Raynor knew something was wrong. He turned and ran toward the
back of his house and grabbed his pitchfork. He had run into Graans before but he had
always been on horseback and had never had any conflict.
Raynor ducked . When he looked back out his window there was no sign of the
mysterious warrior. After a short wait Raynor got up from his hiding place reasoning that
the man probably had not come for him.
Making sure that a pitchfork was close at hand, he unwrapped a loaf of bread he
had bought the night before. The baker in that town was well-experienced and his bread
was of great quality (or so many people of the town say ). Raynor didn’t particularly
enjoy it but it was sustaining. He stuffed it in his satchel, walked to the large trunk and
took a pair of leather work pants and a homespun linen shirt. He changed quickly and
again went to the window to see if there was any sign of the Graan. At that moment, he
heard a horn blowing very close by. He turned his head to the left just in time to see the
Graan, a ram horn to his lips. Raynor looked up the hillside that rises up on the east side
of town. The hillside was filling with Graan , some with large menacing axes and some
with torches.
Raynor heart filled with terror as his mind went back to the stories of villages
being razed to the ground and the inhabitants slaughtered. He grabbed his pitch fork and
darted out the door running toward the west. The streets were beginning to fill with
curious people, wandering what the loud blast of the horn was from. Raynor shouted to
the people instructing them to run. He ran to the house of his friend Kell and pounded at
the door. Kell answered somewhat groggy “What’s wrong Raynor”
“There’s no time. Get your children and your wife.. run to the woods, Hurry . I’ll meet
you there.” Kell looked at him inquisitively.
Raynor again shouted “Now!”
Kell immediately awakened his wife and oldest son, Ceral, a sturdy lad of seven.
He and his wife picked up the two youngest, Meron, a child not yet four and a babe in
arms, called Little Kell. They ran behind Raynor to the woods of Euthiar half a leauge
west of the villiage. As Raynor approached the forest he turned to see the first of the
simple huts being put to flame. Raynor, Kell and his family rushed into the forest.

*******
Sias strolled the wall looking across the large expanse of area. Everywhere there
were billowing pillars of smoke, their origins hidden from view by small rolling hills. Sias
however knew exactly what they were. The farthest on the right is (or was) the city of
Ditanar, on the far left Rolton , the three close ones were Euthiar, Sdaynar and Pithal.
Sias had seen the Graan use such destructive forces in his service during the Territorial
War of 5436.




Dont worry about making your posts this long...
this is just an introduction...

[CardenIAntauraNauco]

Thats the opening if any one wants to join say so... The first person will need to be the Siäs a great smith now in his 50's.
Siroc is not Tolkien-related. It's a pathetic attempt by me to make something like it. I dont know if this is how they do these in this forum but I guess ill find out. So whoever wants to be Siäs write in.
Ill put a list up of some of the races in siroc later.

[CardenIAntauraNauco]

deleted

[Resolute the Vorquelf]

This sounds like the start of a great story