Writing Challenge 001

Diander watched from the safety of an unadorned balcony, overlooking the alley he had just nearly been caught in. From his vantage point he overheard the magi discuss plans to trap him in the city, plans that we didn’t intend to let them succeed in. He looked around quickly, trying to find anything he could use to his advantage. He noticed a clothesline a few balconies away, and two stories up. After some careful footwork, he found himself dropping his dirty outfit for a fresh one from the line.

Descending back to street level, he straightened out the fresh trousers and tunic. Doubling back down the alley, he found a trough of collected rain water and slicked his hair back to match the greased style of Valen’s many merchants. He ran a hand through his beard. “This will have to do,” and started for the city proper. He looked down at the stolen shirt and felt a pang of guilt. “Sorry,” he said to the empty alley and stepped off into the pedestrian traffic.

As he made his way through the streets, he deliberately kept his head up, his eyes forward, to better suit his disguise. The closer he got, the slower the foot traffic got until everyone was uncomfortably close, and was only taking two or three steps at a time. During his approach, he saw that one of the two massive gates already stood closed, and the portcullis was lowered to only an eight foot clearance, ready to be dropped at a moments notice. The magi clearly didn’t want him getting out. Guards wandered through the crowd, roughly grabbing anyone who fit Diander’s description – at least the description before he had changed his clothes.

This escape proved to be far less harrowing than his last.  The closed gate and guard checkpoints certainly slowed him down, but in the end, Diander simply walked out the city’s main gate, and into the freedom of the open countryside beyond.

The city of Valen was a walled monolith that sat atop the largest hill in a miles wide valley. Only the guard watches and a few towers had the height necessary to look out over the stone barriers. The mountain rages to the east and west were still snowcapped, though thousands of feet below the thaw was in full effect.  The snow wouldn’t finish melting at altitude until summer, keeping the valley below verdant nearly year round. The citizenry took advantage of this, making the fertile lands into an agricultural beacon for nearly all of Lorean.  The city paid the citizens fairly for the supplies they grew, taxed the merchants who travelled from abroad to purchase the foodstuffs for their own lands, and upper class got fat in their castle on the hard work of farmers in the fields below. In return, should the valley ever come under seige, all contributing citizens were welcome within the stone fortress.

Beyond the walls the road to Valen snaked down the hill before it spider-webbed across the rolling fields that spanned for miles in all directions. To the south, barely visible on the horizon was Diander’s destination: The Boarder Wood. So named because they acted as the southern marker of the lands controlled by the city of Valen, many considered them to be dangerous, as bandits and spooks made their homes there, raiding passersby whenever the chance arose.  The truth was that while bandits did frequent those roads, they rarely attacked anyone or even bothered with anyone who didn’t travel under the colors of one Lord or another.