A Copper Paved Road sample.
This is a ( three page) sample from A Copper Paved Road (or ACPR/CPR), Chapter Two. Don't worry, I haven't posted Chapter One, so you haven't missed anything.
Typos are probably all over the place as I haven't edited this. Just felt like posting it. Chapter One and Chapter Two in its entirety will be posted once I'm finished with them.
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,311
This season provided a good harvest, Elder Kincaid thought to himself as he sat under the awning on his favorite tree stump stool, puffing away on his pipe as the rain pelted down on the wood slats above. It’d been a good season overall. There had been just enough rain to nourish the crops and just enough sun to allow them to flourish. Yes, it was a good year. An extra offering would have to be made to the gods.
And to their guardian dragon too.
His vision traveled over to a small hill overlooking the fields, boulders dotting the landscape. Perched on one boulder, was a lone figure wrapped in a long cloak, a mask fashioned in the visage of a dragon and hood obscuring the person’s face. Shaking his head, he stood up from his spot, grabbed his cane and whistled out to the figure, waving the cane in the air.
“Come inside! Even you will catch death in this weather and what good will you be for the village dead?”
Whether or not his words were actually heard, he had no idea, but either way, the figure slowly looked over before sliding off the walk and beginning the slow walk down the hill and back toward the village. Sighing to himself, he seated himself. From the way the figured carried itself, cloak flapping and mask reflecting what light it carried, it reminded him of that night five years ago.
It’d been a stormy night, one where roads ran thick with mud and even eternal fires sputtered and struggled to stay lit. It was a night where the elders would gather in the temple and send their prayers and offerings up to Simarlu in hopes their gifts would comfort the upset Goddess and dry the tears coursing down her face before the waters washed everything away.
Most everyone was huddled in the Elder’s Home, sharing stories to soothe the frightened children and to pass the time. When the door was flung open and two figures, a man and a woman, both badly injured, stumbled in, the confusion had been great. Many of the men had reached for their weapons while the women gathered up the children, ready to take them into the back rooms in the event of a fight.
But there’d been no fight. One figure stumbled forward, supporting his companion with one arm and leaning heavily on a spear with another, before collapsing to his knees and looking up, desperation in his eyes.
Kincaid closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, quietly grumbling about the cold weather as he mused on that night. It hadn’t taken much more before the healers were dragging them off to another room to tend to their injuries as everyone waited around outside.
Whether or not they would survive was uncertain. Even the most hardened healer shuddered as they looked down at the multiple burns and cuts and previously inflicted scars, obvious signs of battle, or more terrifying, war. But they’d worked through the night, cleaning out cuts and applying salves to burns, using magic to knit together wounds when they could. But by morning, they all sighed and nodded at each other, certain the two would survive, though who knew when they would wake up.
It was almost five days before they awoke, sitting up and slowly looking around, confusion etched across their face. At the sight of food and water, they quickly gulped it down, forsaking any manners as they tore at pieces of bread and guzzled down water, mumbling out their thanks between mouthfuls of food.
Only after were they washed up and clothed in clean garments did they meet with the elders to speak. They claimed to be traveling swordsmen who had been ambushed by bandits on that night and had barely managed to escape with their lives. The elders quietly murmured to each other, not truly believing the story, but not wanting to accuse them of anything. Either way, the two were allowed to stay as long as they needed. The two were thankful, promising to help out in anyway they could.
They kept their promise; working in the fields, fending off attacks from bandits and roving monsters, doing whatever they could to help out. Long since did the man-he gave his name as Tobrias, and her, Araseth-leave the village, packing up one day and saying farewell before walking south. Araseth remained behind, entertaining the children with stories and teaching sword-fighting to anyone who wished to learn.
Kincaid opened his eyes and gave a small smile as the masked figure walked up and gave a low bow. Reaching up, he gently put his fingers behind the edge of the mask and pulled away, revealing the smiling, if not damp, face of a woman. Tucking her mask under his arm, he led her into the house, gently scolding her the entire time.
“Araseth, your diligence is admired, but even dragons must come out of the rain sometime. No one will attack in this weather.”
She gave a small laugh as she shed her cloak, giving it a few shakes to remove any excess water, and pulled off her boots, children rushing up and clamoring around her, all trying to gain the honor of setting her boots and cloak by the fire. Looking down at them, she arranged them into a neat line, carefully walking up down the line and inspecting all of them (“Hmm, much too tall, no, this won’t do at all, and you, back straighter, there we go,”) as they tried to hide their giggles. In the end, the two youngest children had the honor of carrying her boots over to the fire and the eldest carried her cloak. The other children were divided up to bring her some warm soup and something to drink, and a dry and clean change of clothing.
Seating herself next to the fire, Araseth peeled off her socks and set them on the warm stones, wiggling her toes in front of the warm blaze as she looked at Kincaid, one eyebrow raised and a teasing smile playing across her lips. “Oh, is that so? Do you remember the time those bandits attacked during that heavy rainstorm? Almost carried away all the grain.”
A young girl pulled over a stool for the elder and he gave her a gentle pat on the head as he carefully lowered himself onto it. Sighing, he held out his hands to warm them as he shook his head at the woman, waggling his cane at her. “Yes, I do recall, but you were with us at the time and still managed to get out there in time to scare the bandits off. Also, there are other people who can defend this village, thanks to your teaching.”
She laughed again and threw up her hands in mock defeat. “All right, you win. I shall stay inside and allow the others to guard, but just this once!”
The children returned with a bowl of hot soup, a plate of fresh bread, and a mug of ale and she smiled at them, giving all of them a kiss on the forehead as she took the food and drink. Cradling the wooden bowl in her hand, she inhaled, smelling all the different spices and vegetables in the soup and eyeing the large pieces of meat. “I can think of no other place where I can find a bowl of soup as good.”
“Oh? But what of the grand palaces of the ruling empires? Certainly their food must be divine.”
She thought on that for a moment before shaking her head and blowing on the soup to cool it before taking a few sips. “No, their soup pales in comparison.” She scooped up a piece of meat and chewed it thoroughly before swallowing. “Yes, definitely pales in comparison.”
Typos are probably all over the place as I haven't edited this. Just felt like posting it. Chapter One and Chapter Two in its entirety will be posted once I'm finished with them.
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,311
This season provided a good harvest, Elder Kincaid thought to himself as he sat under the awning on his favorite tree stump stool, puffing away on his pipe as the rain pelted down on the wood slats above. It’d been a good season overall. There had been just enough rain to nourish the crops and just enough sun to allow them to flourish. Yes, it was a good year. An extra offering would have to be made to the gods.
And to their guardian dragon too.
His vision traveled over to a small hill overlooking the fields, boulders dotting the landscape. Perched on one boulder, was a lone figure wrapped in a long cloak, a mask fashioned in the visage of a dragon and hood obscuring the person’s face. Shaking his head, he stood up from his spot, grabbed his cane and whistled out to the figure, waving the cane in the air.
“Come inside! Even you will catch death in this weather and what good will you be for the village dead?”
Whether or not his words were actually heard, he had no idea, but either way, the figure slowly looked over before sliding off the walk and beginning the slow walk down the hill and back toward the village. Sighing to himself, he seated himself. From the way the figured carried itself, cloak flapping and mask reflecting what light it carried, it reminded him of that night five years ago.
It’d been a stormy night, one where roads ran thick with mud and even eternal fires sputtered and struggled to stay lit. It was a night where the elders would gather in the temple and send their prayers and offerings up to Simarlu in hopes their gifts would comfort the upset Goddess and dry the tears coursing down her face before the waters washed everything away.
Most everyone was huddled in the Elder’s Home, sharing stories to soothe the frightened children and to pass the time. When the door was flung open and two figures, a man and a woman, both badly injured, stumbled in, the confusion had been great. Many of the men had reached for their weapons while the women gathered up the children, ready to take them into the back rooms in the event of a fight.
But there’d been no fight. One figure stumbled forward, supporting his companion with one arm and leaning heavily on a spear with another, before collapsing to his knees and looking up, desperation in his eyes.
Kincaid closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, quietly grumbling about the cold weather as he mused on that night. It hadn’t taken much more before the healers were dragging them off to another room to tend to their injuries as everyone waited around outside.
Whether or not they would survive was uncertain. Even the most hardened healer shuddered as they looked down at the multiple burns and cuts and previously inflicted scars, obvious signs of battle, or more terrifying, war. But they’d worked through the night, cleaning out cuts and applying salves to burns, using magic to knit together wounds when they could. But by morning, they all sighed and nodded at each other, certain the two would survive, though who knew when they would wake up.
It was almost five days before they awoke, sitting up and slowly looking around, confusion etched across their face. At the sight of food and water, they quickly gulped it down, forsaking any manners as they tore at pieces of bread and guzzled down water, mumbling out their thanks between mouthfuls of food.
Only after were they washed up and clothed in clean garments did they meet with the elders to speak. They claimed to be traveling swordsmen who had been ambushed by bandits on that night and had barely managed to escape with their lives. The elders quietly murmured to each other, not truly believing the story, but not wanting to accuse them of anything. Either way, the two were allowed to stay as long as they needed. The two were thankful, promising to help out in anyway they could.
They kept their promise; working in the fields, fending off attacks from bandits and roving monsters, doing whatever they could to help out. Long since did the man-he gave his name as Tobrias, and her, Araseth-leave the village, packing up one day and saying farewell before walking south. Araseth remained behind, entertaining the children with stories and teaching sword-fighting to anyone who wished to learn.
Kincaid opened his eyes and gave a small smile as the masked figure walked up and gave a low bow. Reaching up, he gently put his fingers behind the edge of the mask and pulled away, revealing the smiling, if not damp, face of a woman. Tucking her mask under his arm, he led her into the house, gently scolding her the entire time.
“Araseth, your diligence is admired, but even dragons must come out of the rain sometime. No one will attack in this weather.”
She gave a small laugh as she shed her cloak, giving it a few shakes to remove any excess water, and pulled off her boots, children rushing up and clamoring around her, all trying to gain the honor of setting her boots and cloak by the fire. Looking down at them, she arranged them into a neat line, carefully walking up down the line and inspecting all of them (“Hmm, much too tall, no, this won’t do at all, and you, back straighter, there we go,”) as they tried to hide their giggles. In the end, the two youngest children had the honor of carrying her boots over to the fire and the eldest carried her cloak. The other children were divided up to bring her some warm soup and something to drink, and a dry and clean change of clothing.
Seating herself next to the fire, Araseth peeled off her socks and set them on the warm stones, wiggling her toes in front of the warm blaze as she looked at Kincaid, one eyebrow raised and a teasing smile playing across her lips. “Oh, is that so? Do you remember the time those bandits attacked during that heavy rainstorm? Almost carried away all the grain.”
A young girl pulled over a stool for the elder and he gave her a gentle pat on the head as he carefully lowered himself onto it. Sighing, he held out his hands to warm them as he shook his head at the woman, waggling his cane at her. “Yes, I do recall, but you were with us at the time and still managed to get out there in time to scare the bandits off. Also, there are other people who can defend this village, thanks to your teaching.”
She laughed again and threw up her hands in mock defeat. “All right, you win. I shall stay inside and allow the others to guard, but just this once!”
The children returned with a bowl of hot soup, a plate of fresh bread, and a mug of ale and she smiled at them, giving all of them a kiss on the forehead as she took the food and drink. Cradling the wooden bowl in her hand, she inhaled, smelling all the different spices and vegetables in the soup and eyeing the large pieces of meat. “I can think of no other place where I can find a bowl of soup as good.”
“Oh? But what of the grand palaces of the ruling empires? Certainly their food must be divine.”
She thought on that for a moment before shaking her head and blowing on the soup to cool it before taking a few sips. “No, their soup pales in comparison.” She scooped up a piece of meat and chewed it thoroughly before swallowing. “Yes, definitely pales in comparison.”