The Limpet's Stone, Part I

Well, thus far I have been unsuccessful in retrieving my art portfolio from my old hs. irony is that it was the only thing i was expecting to find. i didn't plan on stumbling over "The Chicken Keeper" or ever unlocking "The Limpet's Stone," so I guess two out of three ain't bad. lol. as i offered you all the chapters, I figure I'll upload them here in journal form rather than soil my gallery with them. I only got as far as chapter four when writing between Nov. 1998 - April 1999. The quality of writing is that of a 14 yr old me easily swayed and corrupted by such influences as Tolkien's Lord of the Rings and the Bone comics (though I had only gotten as far as Book I), so please if u could criticize constructively on the original elements to the mythology (which engenders the world of Earl and Emma in The Chicken Keeper) rather than flame my ass on how laughably bad and lifted some of it may be.

Here's the first chapter. Hasn't been touched since Nov. 1998, tho that's not exactly a good thing. Again, the quality of writing isn't the greatest, don't even know where to start repairing it. so, "enjoy," lol. Tell me what u think.

Chapter I
Limpeton

Many suns aback, there streams the white frothing River Belegkel, which churns and ripples through emerald spring seas of forest. On those carpeted, mossy grounds of deep summer pine there live the Limpets. They are fairly small river people, and fearful out of their towns. They mostly fish, laugh and eat and tell of the wizards and dragons who have saved and shambled Ligeia in the past, for that was the great realm they settled in with a number of other mythical beings, dwarves, gnomes, goblins, elves, and all those other creatures that you think are make-believe. The country of Limperiador, which they inhabited was quiet and peaceful, the rest of the Great Realm is a vast and dangerous place for these creatures, who by evolution are the lake-elves.
Today casts a blazing summer in Limperiador. The wooded oaks rose in a grey asunder. The red winds beat down on the forest. The rivershore soon brought an ebb tide of limpets. They move around noisily over the dank shore of mud, preparing to cast their fibered nets from the shore and into the gravel bars below.
This day in Ligeia is June 17, the first day of a miscellany of fairs held throughout the Hinterlands. Those days meant feasts, firecrackers, epics and laughing for the realm-dwellers. Just as they move, they are preparing for the festival, whereas there are other limpets who have other things to do before the colorful flags are hung.
"Tatharsul!" A deep shout rang through the village of Limpeton. In the feverish congregation at the shore, it has been left barren and coveting. There is a dead stillness of the sunder dawn. Only that sole voice is heard, belonging to Gamaliel Durelein, a limpet of great opulence, all of it was earned off of his proliferated salt mills. He was however, unlike human masteries in the way that he was generous in both land and money. As other limpets do, he was preparing to leave his limpet-hut and help with the purse nets. Limpets, or lake-elves built mossy huts in the wood shores, not far from River Belegkel. They trapped a hearth of temperate air and meant comfort. Clay brick stoves were often kept open and let off a great deal of swarthy smoke for heat. The limpet-huts were not as barren as their name sounds. Bountiful jewelry amulets hang from the burlap and sutter walls of each dwelling. There were burrows in the holdings that hoarded gold coins and food. Most limpets come to inherit a number of riches because most of them will live for over one hundred years unless they are slain in battle, which of course causes their families to be ages old. Gamaliel`s family of Dureleins had a poor despairing history, although nearly as ancient in yore as the ravens. Only Gamaliel had the power to change Durelein life forever. Tatharsul is a close friend of Gamaliel, however he is poor himself and spent his life from childhood onward as a beggar, however from this epic you will come to know he became the king of beggars. The morning sank into the riveting crocus thickets as Gamaliel scanned the horizon, rolling beyond the Limpeton Wall. He gave a sigh of grief, realizing he was alone.
"Tatharsul!" he repeated as he cupped his mouth, sounding louder than before. An echo rang back to him after penetrating the citadel, "are you by the river already?" Eerie wind howled against the old dirt roads. Gamaliel shuddered in fear of being alone and in disappointment. "I`m not calling again!" he snorted. He walked through the village gardens with hopes to relieve himself. He often felt that paranoid fear of being alone without any reasons. Cold air breezed on him as he walked through the garden's stone studded path and Gamaliel could barely ignore it. The shrubbery grew to a midnight hyacinthine shade. The trees began to harden to a deep sienna wood and their leaves blossomed and throve with the sweet, fertile air of early summer.
The crisp shallow fountains chirped with perpetual flow. It was this area that once banished Dureleins, that to Gamaliel had become commonplace to sit at as copper sunlight laved over the presence of the realm. Only this morning did it appear alien and feverish. No thrush sang. The brittle bushes shivered as the sky filled with eerie gloss. Just imagine Gamaliel`s fright! "Now I`m all alone," he murmured drearily and pondered.
A voice came from the knoll of black effloresces, as if to answer but not relieve him, "I am here." From the gruff whisper, he could sense that no good had lurked around him, he only sensed a diadem of clear danger. Beyond two beechwood another voice moaned, "And I--I too." The clouds stealthily besieged above him in a fierce ring, and shadows climbed over the land as Gamaliel listened.
The canopy leaves rustled and tore like quietus pages, spindly twigs cracked. Gamaliel could smell the footsteps of wild dogs riving against the ground. Mournful howls arose into the murky, gray air. The stovered limpet watched as steely pelts flashed before him and into the air, and as golden glassy eyes glared and burned at him. Snowy scions with claws stretched sprung out of the bushes. Sour breath streamed in a cirrus arrow over the limpet`s head. Swarms of black clouded his thoughts, with deep red pervading from two elliptical openings. Each howl pierced a deep scarlet hole in a pit of black. The nearby brush shook. The pack was getting closer.
With the shaking of brambles, a head lifted. Its fur was silver and deep bronze red. Its ears were sharp, and black as horsehair paintbrushes. It lifted its white, blood sodden chin, baring its crusted teeth and letting out a mournful howl, the rest accompanying it. Wolves! They had come to Limperiador, and for such a reason, Gamaliel might have wondered if they had taken all the fishermen at Belegkel, but he had no time to think. He ran, as cowardly as the rest of limpetkind. At first he ran up the stalwart oak with cemented legs, knowing the chief of wolves had already leapt into the clearing and gnashed at him as more branches capsized to the ground with nasty fissures. Its coat shook as it leapt at the tree, gnawing on its crisp bark, and letting it fall to the ground in splinters. Its obsidian paws slashed at the trunk. It howled, and more pierced ruby eyes grew closer. Poor Gamaliel`s heart rose to his throat. White beads of sweat dripped from his face. An entire pack had surrounded the clearing in a fiery circle, snarling, growling and bounding at the thronging oak. He could only grab on tighter and tighter, for now he could feel the chief wolf's hot breath right under his legs. Then his worries broke into a fever. He saw another flash of gray, much larger than the chief wolf. It ran through the woods with full power.
At first Gamaliel thought it must be a vision. "I`m seeing things," he muttered angrily, "and just when I`m treed by hungry wolves." As it reached the sunder brush, he saw it was walking on two legs. He felt worse. Finally the dark figure had shown itself completely. It was clad in wolf skin and beneath showed a wiry and old but endearingly harmless face, even though it seemed angry.
"Hwat!" he shouted, and at the pack. The wolves stopped now and moved into a circle, spreading far from the tree. "Kanodraug!" he roared, and the chief of wolves stepped before him. The old skin-changer let out a limp hand, which bore an indigo ring. He snarled at Kanodraug. Gamaliel could only consider Kanodraug and the skin-changer`s converse to be wolf language. After a short while, the stranger stared up at the tree, as Kanodraug told him.
"Come down, they can`t hurt you," the stranger motioned to him with his hand. With reluctance, the tree-ridden limpet climbed down to the soft earth. Again the outer brush shook and out stepped the dwarves. "Here they are," the stranger glowed, "Throtro, the ogre slayer; Nimnaug, the White Dwarf; Mithdil, Scedval, and Ithon." The dwarves, wearing ethereal cloaks, stepped in front of the skin-changer in single file. "We have risked a great deal of peril to find you, Gamaliel" The stranger removed the wolf-headed hood. "I am Fenlieb, second brother of the Nerilika, son of the Red Wolf and guardian of all wildbeasts." Gamaliel had felt just as feverish and confused as before. Fenlieb reached deep into his tunic pouch. "The silgonds, and the last of the mine," he showed Gamaliel a small leather sack. Pulling loose the strings, the wizard dropped several black stones onto his palm.
"Perhaps we are not safe even here, the clouds of Seregaur are floating above us as we speak," the name of Seregaur made the dwarves fall pale with fright.
"Who's that?" the limpet questioned.
Fenlieb drew a finger, "Only pure evil grown in itself, that is Lord Seregaur." Gamaliel stared at Fenlieb again, still confused as ever. "You should know that the realm is predisposed to dark times and dark roads," he said, his voice slowing to a whisper, "the dark lord has come close to ruling all of it, all of Ligeia. Then Mithdil began laughing as if he knew the next thing that Fenlieb would say. "He can`t rule all of the land without the silgonds that the Under Downs company has stolen. In the last battle, Keraiken and Odorf," Fenlieb was interrupted by Scedval this time.
"Those gnomes," he grumbled, "disgusting grimy little things." The wizard continued. "With my torches, they were able to destroy the Silgond Mines, but they salvaged these five pieces of stone which lay in my palm." Gamaliel knew nothing of the ventures of gnomes or orcs or their burglaries.
"Why did you come to me about the silgond?" he shrugged.
"I want you to have them," the wizard placed the stones back into their bag of holding.
Gamaliel had been shocked and began an internal dissent, "But the danger of them--." The wizard scratched his white beard for a minute before answering, "They will be safe with you. Lord Seregaur`s guards will be after members of the Nerilika such as me and other important people of high sorcery, so he`ll easily let a common limpet like yourself slip right through his hands. If he does begin threatening Limperiador with shell dragons and things like that, your life will be in danger. If you do sense him at all then I shall demand that you, the dwarves and Kanodraug`s pack all leave this place. The silgond will tell you where to go." Gamaliel ground the stones in his hand, "What if the--" he began to finish his sentence, then he realized that Fenlieb had left the forest.