Hello everyone, decided to start writing some more, I intend to do a daily post of what I'm writing, and I'm done for tonight, tell me what you think, your comments will determine whether or not I continue this story. So enjoy ^.^


Leaves cracked and grinded beneath his boot clad foot as his leg pushed down against the moist soil beneath him. He stood still a moment to take in awe of his surroundings. He’d been traveling for quite a few weeks now, finally to arrive at his destination at last. He shouldered the bow on his back for comfort and scanned over the masonry of his ancestors many eras ago. He’d found the ruins of Therion, a great temple now rubble and broken marble. The bricks and pillars had a black hue with a bluish sheen, accented by the greens of the forest. Small patterns inside the stone swirled and mixed like unstirred droplets of ink that’d fallen into a glass of drinking water. A few of the remnants of the temple had carvings etched in them, worn by weather and any other aspects of decay to relics. These etchings had words of the ancients, used now for power and magical intent.
But this wasn’t the intention of the ruins’ new visitor. In fact the like of those annoyed him with no great limit. No. He was a treasure seeker, an adventurer, with his long bow strung across his back, and an assortment of knives and a sword that stuck to his bodice by straps, belts, and otherwise sheaths. His grown hair flowed over his shoulders with braids that were worked with bone. Done by women of his company wishing him well, tying in trinkets and charms for good luck. The strands in the front framed a sturdy face filled with the bewilderment of a child grasping a new play thing, filled with wonder and excitement. Though his eyes said differently, his body language lay at ease, calm, and alert, for this jungle he’d been tramping through had many dangers outside human site or instinct.
The sound of metal being drawn from a leather sheath rang off the wood and stone of his surroundings. He’d figured he would arm himself minutely incase of danger, though the risk of such confrontations were at a small minimal. He shrugged and decided to go ahead with his journey, putting one foot in front of the other, crushing leaves with his imprinted foot imbedded into the ground beneath. His walk was cautious and slow. Yes, slow and steady just like his father taught him. A farmer from the old ways, a follower of the gods and seeker of just rectified living. He could remember how everyday his father would walk to a tree atop a hill not far from his house. Carved into this tree he’d illustrated a picture of his deity. A nude woman with flowers around her, and a crown of lilacs atop her head. She was the lady of fortune and goodwill, otherwise known to their teachings as Archalen. So his father would place a small metal coin in hopes the lady would smile upon him with praise and thank him of his offering.
Shrugging off the memories of past he continued on with his task. The architecture of this newfound relic was odd. What was left of the pillars revealed something odd, the stone of the pillars were solid with no bricks, which would mean they had to of been cut from a quarry nearby, though everything here was marsh or wood. Where had the stones come from, and how did they get here? He figured it was a work of some magic that chilled him to the bone. He’d seen magicians to great things, great things that usually ended in horrible predicaments. Usually where ever a magician was, death and misfortune would follow, though no one had the wits to ban them from the kingdoms and villages.
Coming closer to the main entrance of the ruin, his eyes washed upon a stone door that would have to be opened vertically instead of from side to side like most convenient buildings of the present. This would prove quite a task for a lone man to do alone, though that’d never stopped him before. He walked to the door and examined the exterior, his sight scanning any weakness, letting every grain and crack imprint into his mind to be calculated and examined. Near one side of the door towards the ground he noticed a bundle of cracks and chips. It looked as if the door was shut and closed with a hurry to keep something out, or in. Either way, it was a weak point and could be smashed in easily by the looks of it. He kicked it a bit with his boot to measure its durability. The cracks in the door moved a bit as dust and dirt shook freely from the grasp of the doors textures. With a smile he nodded in approval as he took a hatched that hung from his waist, mainly used for fire wood. He turned it backwards as he struck the weak point with the blunt end, sending rock and dust flying across the innards of the room smothered in darkness aside from the daylight that now spun it’s self through dust and shadow. He hit it again, this time a little higher to make a bigger hole. The sound of metal against stone rang throughout the temple alerting creatures and insects of the breaching of their lair. He grinned a bit bigger as the hole was now big enough for him to step through in a squatting position. He tied his hatchet back to his waist and leaned through the brick stone with one leg inside, then dipping his head in he swayed it to the other side followed by his other leg. He stood there in awe of what he found, many trinkets shimmered for the first time in many years with the reflections of new found light.