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Drylor The First Artifact

Formatting may be off, there may be uneccessary spaces in places but that is because i copy and pasted it directly out of a pdf. However, these are the first five pages of the book. I am posting them here as just a quick preview of what Drylor has to offer to share my work with others who haven't purchased or are too broke too purchase the book. If you enjoyed this work feel free to shoot me an email or a message on Facebook/Youtube, maybe I can even hook you up with a free signed copy!

Drylor The Second Artifact

“Umph, where … where am I?” a young man asks himself.

After shaking off the initial confusion, he sits up and looks around, trying to figure out what is going on. Upon looking around, he notices that he is being carried through some sort of underground city in a cage. The tops and bottoms of the cage are made of solid wood that are held together by thick metal straps. Underneath the cage are two metal bars that are tied down with rope. They span out at least five feet in front of and in back of the cage.

The bars are in place to assist the guards who are carrying the cage through the city. On each side of the cage there are four guards, two for each bar. The man manages to catch a glimpse of himself in a window. He is about five foot seven with light, golden brown hair coming down three inches off his head. He has cobalt blue eyes, which stand out in his boyish face. He isn’t wearing anything more than a few pieces of tattered cloth. Everything else he came to the city with is hanging outside of his cage in a large cloth sack.

While passing by the window, the man tries to remember his name but can’t. After being hit over the back of the head by the guards, a mild case of amnesia must have came on, causing the man’s head to pulsate in pain. Each time he hears a noise, it echoes through his head like a bad morning after a night of drinking. While passing one house, he spots two young kids playing with a small ball. They are bouncing it off the wall of a house, playing with each other.

Watching the kids play causes a memory to surface, fuzzy at first, but then as clear as day. Everything goes blurry as one memory becomes as clear as day. He can see himself, back when he was no older than five, playing with another young girl. He felt a connection to this girl, a very strong one. Maybe she was his sister, his cousin, or his friend. He didn’t know. They were bouncing a ball off a wall just like the kids on the street. He and the girl were giggling and laughing, having a good time. He could hear words muttered from an older lady standing in a doorway yelling to them.

He felt a connection to this lady too, more of a motherly connection. She waves the kids over, and just as she is about to say his name, the vision ends. The man grabs his head before falling backward into the cage.

“Hey, you! Stay still in there!” one of the guards yells out.

The man completely ignores the guard and holds his head in the palm of his hand, trying to comprehend what he just saw. While being carried through the city, the man notices all the attention he is drawing to himself. Families are rushing out of their houses and into the streets to watch him being carried in the cage. Th ey are all curious about what he did to get in that cage, much like he is. Without much more to do, the man leans back in his cage and watches out the front to see where he is being carried.

Right now, he is in a residential area of the town. On each side of the street, there are small homes and shops. Most of them are only one- or two-room homes, giving him the impression that this is the poor section of the city. After a few minutes of being carried through the residential area, the man comes out to a large, wide open section. There are targets at the far ends of this section, with the archers practicing their aim on them. Closer to the path that the cage is being carried along he can see men sparring with each other or with a stuffed target dummy.

Watching the men spar with each other triggers something, just like before when watching the kids play ball. But this time it imbues a strong sense of accomplishment into the man. He sees himself brawling with someone of his own race, someone older. The man he was fighting was much wiser and much stronger than him. Both of them were wearing silver armor that glistened in the sun. The armor bore the symbol of a sword and shield. He could feel other people watching him while fi ghting this man, but he didn’t know why.

While watching this fi ght, he could hear the words repeated in his head, “You are now a member of the Royal Guard of Genisus.” That sentence keeps echoing throughout his mind while he watches the vision. After defeating the older man, another man approached him. He was wearing a crown and being escorted by four men dressed in similar attire to him at the time. In the king’s hands was a short sword. The sword was laying over top a red piece of fabric in both of the king’s hands. As the king approached him, he kneeled down and held the sword up.

A sudden wave of satisfaction came over him, an overwhelming feeling of victory and accomplishment. Th e man reached down and grabbed the sword before holding it as high as he could into the air. The crowd around him broke into applause, whistling and making as much noise as they possibly could. After they quieted down, the king looked up and into his eyes to say, “You are now a member of the Royal Guard of Genisus.”

Just like that, he is back in the gloomy underground city again. The bright, vibrant, sunny area of Genisus is gone. He looks around and notices that everyone here looks diff erent than the people in his vision. They have darker, more bluish skin. Their ears are pointy, just like an elf, but they look nothing like the elves of Felcon to the north. While the he is still trying to understand his vision, the dark elves carrying him through the city start to speak.

“Slex hs csy xlmro xli omrg mw ksmrk xs hk xs lnq?” one dark elf says in an unknown tongue.

“Ibigyxi lmq fu qsvrmrk,” the second dark elf replies with a slight chuckle.

The man has no idea what the dark elves are talking about among each other, but he knows whatever it is, it isn’t good. Farther past the area where he saw the men sparring are jail cells. They must use the prisoners as live targets for them to practice against. Inside each of the jail cells sit people from all diff erent races. Th ere are elves, humans, half-elves, dark elves, dwarves, gnomes, and even a few halflings. While being carried past the jail cells, one of the half-elves looks up and spots the man in the cage. He rushes to front of his cell and throws his arms past the bars before beginning to shout.

While the man is shouting out of his jail cell, a dark elf guard walks up and smashes him back into his cell with his shield. “Silence, whelp!” the dark elf yells out before returning to his post. Shortly after passing the jail cells, the smell of smoke fills the air as well as an immense amount of heat. The sounds of crackling and burning wood can be heard as the cage rounds the corner and starts heading toward a large bonfire.

The man’s eyes light up in fear, scared of being thrown into the bonfire and scared of another rush of memories from his past. This time he sees a town, the same town he and the young girl were playing in earlier. In the town, there are about a dozen houses with a well right in the center. Th e houses are clumped around the well. There are six on each side and two roads leading in and out of the village, one to the north and one to the south. Surrounding the village is a thick forest that eventually grows into a mountainside. Small brush and trees dot the forests floor. Since the village is so small, there is no doubt that everyone knows each other and almost everything about each other.

He can see the whole town visible before his eyes in perfect condition. But as he gets closer to the bonfire and can feel the heat coming off of it, flashes of the town being destroyed start to happen. The houses in his vision are burning to the ground; people’s screams can be heard echoing through his head. Th ere are dozens of bodies that fill the streets of the city.

Th e man brings a hand up to his face and covers his mouth, feeling sick because of the vision he is seeing. He closes his eyes and shakes his head side to side, mumbling, “No … no … no …” out loud over and over. He can’t remember the people in his vision or the village that is being burned, but the emotions he has for everything are so real. When he looks up and opens his eyes, a man’s face appears in front of that burning village.

The man has scarlet red hair coming down far past his waist and a face that strikingly resembles something very familiar. His eyes are jet black; looking into them almost feels like you are spiraling down into an abyss. The man’s face has a small scar on his right cheek like a sharp blade just barely grazed it. Although he can’t tell who this man is, he can tell he is evil. The man in this vision is evil to the core, with no chance of redemption at all.

Right as he recovers from this vision, he fi nds himself being carried into a palace. Th e steps the guards are walking on are made of pure gold, as are the statues around him. Everything is glistening in the light that the torches give off like it has just recently been polished. Th ere are two guards stationed at every door throughout the palace. It would be impossible to escape even if given the chance.

After rounding the last corner in the palace, the guards set down the cage and open the front of it. Th ey reach in and grab both of the man’s arms, forcefully pulling him out and pushing him forward down on the red carpet beneath him. At the end of the room sits a man wearing purple robes on a throne. He has a golden crown that has just recently been polished, much like everything else around him. The crown has little red and green gemstones perfectly spaced throughout it.

The guards push the man all the way up the right carpet before striking him down to his knees before the king. When he looks up, the king stares him straight in the eyes.

“What is your name, boy?” the king asks him.

“I … I don’t know…” the young man responds, feeling silly that he doesn’t even know his own name.

“Your childish games will not be tolerated in this city. Tell me at once, or you will not live to see another day,” the king says out loud, the frustration in his voice obvious.

“Before being brought here, I was struck on the back of the head. I do not remember my name.”

“That is enough! Guards, kill him,” the king says, raising his hand and beginning to stand up.

The guard to the man’s right raises his sword and starts to bring it down before being interrupted. “Stop! He speaks the truth!” another voice calls out.


To continue reading please feel free to purchase yourself a copy of Drylor The First Artifact!





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