The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum - View Single Post - The Green Dragon Inn #11

ElentariGreenleaf · 07-03-2004, 04:06 AM

A lone figure stumbled towards a well-lit building under the mystifying shine of the stars. The warm glow from the windows looked inviting, so the shadow of a man headed toward the building he did not know was the Green Dragon Inn. Weary from travelling, he pushed open the Inn's door, taking a moment to glance up at the Inn's sign, and slumped down at the nearest empty table. The lamps in the room cast dark shadows over his drawn face. He was thin. Too thin. Months of travelling alone, lost in the frozen northern lands had drained the life out of him, and now he was fading away, dying as many of his companions had, shot down by orcs as they crossed the High Pass on their way to the Icebay of Forochel from Rohan. But he was betrayed. At Carn Dûm, his supposedly trustworthy companions, who had not yet perished from the cold, decided that they had learnt enough about their destination from their leader. At the dead of night they turned on him, taking all his possessions, including his map of Middle Earth and his weapons. They left him defenceless, alone in unknown lands, and soon enough he was attacked.

Barely a week after his companions abandoned him, the bone-chilling cry of a wolf echoed through the night. A lone wolf hunted the man as he forced his mount to run in a mad gallop, froth appearing at the sides of her mouth. Eventually the mare could go no further and fell, instantly attacked by the ravenous wolf. The man had been flung from the horse as she fell, but his love for his beautiful mare drove him into battle with the wolf, only an old rusty dagger he had found in a deserted cave for a weapon. He survived with minor injuries, but his bay mare had been mutilated beyond recognition. With a heavy heart he took her life to save her from the agonising death that would have followed afterwards. Completely alone now, he had made his way back south, but lack of provisions meant he had no energy to continue. Standing atop a small cliff, he stumbled and fell, hitting his head on his fall to the ground far below. It was a miracle he survived the fall, yet now he remembered nothing of his journey or betrayal, remembered nothing of himself. Amnesia had spread through the man's mind as his head hit the ground at the bottom of the cliff. Now he only knew one thing:

His name was Atulan.

07-03-2004, 04:06 AM	#452
ElentariGreenleaf Ghost Prince of Cardolan Join Date: Oct 2002 Location: Look, I'm over there! Posts: 496	Atulan A lone figure stumbled towards a well-lit building under the mystifying shine of the stars. The warm glow from the windows looked inviting, so the shadow of a man headed toward the building he did not know was the Green Dragon Inn. Weary from travelling, he pushed open the Inn's door, taking a moment to glance up at the Inn's sign, and slumped down at the nearest empty table. The lamps in the room cast dark shadows over his drawn face. He was thin. Too thin. Months of travelling alone, lost in the frozen northern lands had drained the life out of him, and now he was fading away, dying as many of his companions had, shot down by orcs as they crossed the High Pass on their way to the Icebay of Forochel from Rohan. But he was betrayed. At Carn Dûm, his supposedly trustworthy companions, who had not yet perished from the cold, decided that they had learnt enough about their destination from their leader. At the dead of night they turned on him, taking all his possessions, including his map of Middle Earth and his weapons. They left him defenceless, alone in unknown lands, and soon enough he was attacked. Barely a week after his companions abandoned him, the bone-chilling cry of a wolf echoed through the night. A lone wolf hunted the man as he forced his mount to run in a mad gallop, froth appearing at the sides of her mouth. Eventually the mare could go no further and fell, instantly attacked by the ravenous wolf. The man had been flung from the horse as she fell, but his love for his beautiful mare drove him into battle with the wolf, only an old rusty dagger he had found in a deserted cave for a weapon. He survived with minor injuries, but his bay mare had been mutilated beyond recognition. With a heavy heart he took her life to save her from the agonising death that would have followed afterwards. Completely alone now, he had made his way back south, but lack of provisions meant he had no energy to continue. Standing atop a small cliff, he stumbled and fell, hitting his head on his fall to the ground far below. It was a miracle he survived the fall, yet now he remembered nothing of his journey or betrayal, remembered nothing of himself. Amnesia had spread through the man's mind as his head hit the ground at the bottom of the cliff. Now he only knew one thing: His name was Atulan.