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Wizzie's blog


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Welcome to Wizzie's blog!

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6 Nov 2009 11:17 PM

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  Beyond the dense forbidding mists of Avalon a mystical world flourishes. A realm forged by the gods that created the elements: wind, fire, matter, and water. Of all such lands created, Aeria is its jewel and heralded the paradise of the Good Lord the Heavenly Father. It was formed to become the most bountiful kingdom, prospering on rewarding harvests for countless generations by its tireless and dedicated folk. A dominion steeped in fortune and purpose unsurpassed and envy of all others with its embracing valleys, impenetrable forests and brimming lakes in which no man knows of want or creature any bounds.
  Imagine then if you will a castle within this land; I state castle because this is the nearest representation best describing such a notable formulation. A citadel sternly built of blue-grey stone quarried from beyond the northern mountains set upon immovable granite solid as Mother Earth herself and originally intended to form as protection for the kingdom from any seaward invasion therefore strategically positioned on the northwest extremities of the realm. Four high walls cling to the early morning mist angling outward to thwart any such potential assault. In the western wall, a portcullis situated off-centre presents intricate figures of heraldry and legend carved by the skilled hands of masons past and balancing precariously over the inner arch a fire-spitting dragon overlooks the welcomed traveller on the approach road into this hospitable place. Like an enormous oaken tongue, a drawbridge spans the deep moat fringed with overgrown reeds surrounding part of the keep and the dense outer walls fed by the cool waters that meander unremittingly from the distant mountains.   
  My beloved Wendatch stands proud upon a tor bordered by lush valleys to the south and east, and to the north an expanse of wilderness with thick forests and huge deep lakes fringed by the ragged often snow-capped mountains and beyond still, the forbidden mists where the gods reside, legends born and dreams aspire. To the west, the realm's craggy brink abruptly strikes the vast ocean where one can view the tireless motion of the heaving waves lapping in conflict with the land's intrusion. Often I sit here whiling away hapless hours perched upon the very rocks that make the capricious tract of land between sea and castle sometimes daring to venture into the deep tidal hollows defying my own trepidation of the place to culminate all I have learnt though more often than not merely appeased contemplating the world beyond Aeria.
  The surrounding land is abundant in wildlife making hunting simple and the fertile soil yielding generous harvests until one particular season brought a dramatic change heralding the coming of a dark age; a contemptible duration that lingered far longer than I dare recall but I am jumping ahead of myself. Wendatch houses a small community that farms and hunts in the nearby fields and woods, excepting those who have mastered commerce, building or smithing. Most of the regular abodes are of mud and wattle, sturdy enough when one considers the protection of the castle's outer walls. Contained too are the storehouse, stable and forge limited for the lord's services, an alehouse which is my second home, a wish tower and the apothecary where I reside with my master Treggedon. The storehouse is unique: built upon wooden stilts to the height of three men, boasting a slate roof and oak doors set at the top of the steep steps next to the gantry used for hoisting heavy stock. The reason for its elevation primarily is to prevent dampness rising from the ground ruining the food stock, suppress invading rats, or as it now transpires, thwarting dishonest hands from pilfering the contents.
  Although never counted, I suppose there must be several hundred inhabitants at the tor with perhaps another thirty inside the keep but what with so many strangers wandering through Wendatch, it proves difficult to acknowledge the permanent residents.
  The keep is very impressive towering high above the south wall and equalling the elevation of the wish tower with its apex disappearing into the constant dawning clouds. All interior walls are whitewashed and most adorned with woven tapestries hanging languidly from iron pins. The place is light and airy and as one would expect comfortable in the summer season but bitterly cold in the dead of winter with icy blasts whistling through the long hallway into adjoining chambers nevertheless, in the dining hall the magnificent hearth with its roaring fire cheers the coldest soul on a raw night.
  Many lords, though few ladies, have sampled the good fortune of being a part of Wendatch in years past and now the lord Talteth has taken residence having previously reigned over a small group of isles in the south. He proved his worthiness and gained commission here by gracious order of his father king Arbereth. Rumours were rife about a battle in which the islands were under threat from Laddian ships earlier in the year and Talteth apparently, eradicated the marauding force without trace however, ambiguity surrounds his actions and I learnt he fled upon the enemies approach back to his father at Collington begging for a quieter province and thus granted Wendatch.
  Arbereth is a fine and proud king astutely overseeing his placed lords and all the provinces within Aeria. Keeping peace amongst them can never be the easiest of tasks but he admirably deals with the slightest upset or disruption and no such would-be pretender to his crown dare attempt to overthrow him. His prime age bears no reflection of his incredible strength or capability and often exercises his might and ability at contests. He keeps a stronghold of the best fighting men at the ready and every spring replenishes his legion by selecting his own personal guards from such tournaments held throughout the realm.
  Oh, how it saddens me when reminiscing years past and ponder upon them with the sting of tears welling in my eyes reflecting how tragically the kingdom has since altered but I shall not surrender my intent and distressing as it is, proffer this moment to reflect upon my tale....





 
 
 
 
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