Autumn in Washington State was one of Apolloâs favorite seasons. The mountains dusted over with the colors of red and gold almost resembled the mystical realm of Waldria, a world only known as faerie tales, stories told to little kids to lull them to sleep. Still, Apollo stood outside in the early morning on his balcony, waiting for winterâs cold hands to grip back the land summer took months ago. Leaning over the railing, he placed his hand to his lips, taking a drag of the toxic smoke of his cigarette. The young man held it in before breathing out through his nose, the smoke blowing out resembling an angered dragon.
He chuckled softly, watching as people began their commutes to work. Though, whatever peace he got from the rush hour and early rising teenagers was interrupted by the ring of his cellphone. Grimacing, he pulled the little tech device out of his jacket, answering the call. âYeah?â He turned, looking at the inside of his apartment and leaning against the balconyâs railing. Rolling his eyes, he recognized the guttural voice on the other end.
âStop avoiding your motherâs calls. I canât tell you how many times Iâve caught her crying.â His father didnât sound too pleased, but he wasnât angered either. His mother was rather emotional, so this was a typical thing. He chuckled to himself as he pressed the cigarette into the ashtray, walking into his room, âMother dearest just calls at the worse times. Iâm hardly home anymore and you know thereâs no cell service in Waldria.â The line was silent for quite some time and he could see the gears in his fatherâs head grinding down in anger. There was a deep breath before the old man spoke up once more, âJust call her soon.â The line was silent again, but Apollo knew his father had hung up. Oh well, oh well. Theyâre always pissed.
Deciding he had no more use in his Seattle home, Apollo rubbed at the ring on his middle finger, muttering the inscription under his breath. âPĂĄrte me se Ă©na mĂ©ros parameli̱mĂ©no.â
****
âOi, oi, thatâs mine!â As dirty boots hit the ground of Waldria, Apollo found himself in a camp with several hot-headed Orcs. Two of them were fighting over what looked to be the leg of a deer. They hadn't noticed him, their attention too caught up in the trivial matter of who got more in their stomachs. Sighing, he leaned back slightly, watching the two. It was a pretty ugly sight, two lumbering monsters growling and holding makeshift weapons at each other over some cooked meat. Before anything serious happened though, Apollo stomped his foot down, yelling out, "If you two are done messin' about, then mind if I take your attention for a bit?"
The orcs all stopped what they were doing as they looked up at the tamer, all of them shutting their mouths as they realized he was there. The two that were playing tug-of-war with the deer leg dropped it and the sight made the young man's mouth curl upwards at the corners. "When did ya get 'ere?" One inquired and received a hard blow to the back of his head by another.
"Don't question 'im! It don't matter when he got 'ere, if 'es 'ere then he wants us ta do somethin'!" Apollo grinned at the scolding the one Orc, who he could swear had the name Rattig, gave and laughed quietly. "Very perceptive of you, my boy." Upon receiving praise, the Orc straightened up, a grin curling up on his grisly face.
"But I'm not here to pat you on the back." He said simply, crossing his arms and smirking, "Seems like the bastard prince is holding some get-together. I want one of you to come with me. So, who's willing to act a little civilized for me?"
He chuckled softly, watching as people began their commutes to work. Though, whatever peace he got from the rush hour and early rising teenagers was interrupted by the ring of his cellphone. Grimacing, he pulled the little tech device out of his jacket, answering the call. âYeah?â He turned, looking at the inside of his apartment and leaning against the balconyâs railing. Rolling his eyes, he recognized the guttural voice on the other end.
âStop avoiding your motherâs calls. I canât tell you how many times Iâve caught her crying.â His father didnât sound too pleased, but he wasnât angered either. His mother was rather emotional, so this was a typical thing. He chuckled to himself as he pressed the cigarette into the ashtray, walking into his room, âMother dearest just calls at the worse times. Iâm hardly home anymore and you know thereâs no cell service in Waldria.â The line was silent for quite some time and he could see the gears in his fatherâs head grinding down in anger. There was a deep breath before the old man spoke up once more, âJust call her soon.â The line was silent again, but Apollo knew his father had hung up. Oh well, oh well. Theyâre always pissed.
Deciding he had no more use in his Seattle home, Apollo rubbed at the ring on his middle finger, muttering the inscription under his breath. âPĂĄrte me se Ă©na mĂ©ros parameli̱mĂ©no.â
****
âOi, oi, thatâs mine!â As dirty boots hit the ground of Waldria, Apollo found himself in a camp with several hot-headed Orcs. Two of them were fighting over what looked to be the leg of a deer. They hadn't noticed him, their attention too caught up in the trivial matter of who got more in their stomachs. Sighing, he leaned back slightly, watching the two. It was a pretty ugly sight, two lumbering monsters growling and holding makeshift weapons at each other over some cooked meat. Before anything serious happened though, Apollo stomped his foot down, yelling out, "If you two are done messin' about, then mind if I take your attention for a bit?"
The orcs all stopped what they were doing as they looked up at the tamer, all of them shutting their mouths as they realized he was there. The two that were playing tug-of-war with the deer leg dropped it and the sight made the young man's mouth curl upwards at the corners. "When did ya get 'ere?" One inquired and received a hard blow to the back of his head by another.
"Don't question 'im! It don't matter when he got 'ere, if 'es 'ere then he wants us ta do somethin'!" Apollo grinned at the scolding the one Orc, who he could swear had the name Rattig, gave and laughed quietly. "Very perceptive of you, my boy." Upon receiving praise, the Orc straightened up, a grin curling up on his grisly face.
"But I'm not here to pat you on the back." He said simply, crossing his arms and smirking, "Seems like the bastard prince is holding some get-together. I want one of you to come with me. So, who's willing to act a little civilized for me?"