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Scarroughburg Festival

Stories
W. R. Frady
Rank (male) – Lvl 1

3126 XP

Before I post this small tale, I would like to wish everyone a Happy Holiday Season. It feels good to be back on here after so long, I hope to get more stories done and ready to post before my next semester begins. Scarroughburgh Festival is just a little project that I bounce to and from when the feeling grabs me. I hope you enjoy this little piece of festive fun.~ The day had dawned merely moments ago, and yet the road to Scarroughburg was congested with the visitors from the surrounding realms. Wagons filled with families, vendors, or just the passer-through, lined the roads for as far as the road can see. The shadow of a falcon sailed across the ground as it soared through the sky, as if to announce the importance of the Spring Veldtan Festival. In the distant, the pennants of Scarrough Castle waved briskly in the morning breeze as if to welcome one and all to their realm. On the hill sides, large fire mounds sat, the wood gathered from the dead trees amid the Evanwood and Sourenwood on the north and south ends of the vale where Scarroughburg lay nestled in the crook between a triad of hills with the grand castle of Duke Wulfric Serengale overlooking the countryside from the top of a rocky knoll just to the west of town. A flat lazy cloud of smoke drifted sluggishly over the town proper, filling the streets with the tantalizing scent of fresh baked bread, pastries, and ginger. A dog barked at a stray cat who sought to slink her way into the bucket of cream, set aside for the many cakes, cookies and other fine goodies that would soon be ready for the Veldtan Festival goers. Musicians fine tuned their instruments, with the aid of an early morning ale or foaming cream soda, Vanda Oreg’s finest creation which she made specifically for this grand time of year. An odd wheel had been crafted in the square since the day before, much like a waterwheel but containing mounted seats, and turned by a mill of oxen so that it could be started and stopped to allow riders to get on and off. The marvelous construction was nearly as large as Old Macgreggory’s Inn was tall, yet as sturdy as the drawbridge of Scarrough Castle. Both children and adults marveled at what it would be like to ride the wheel of Johan Varrens.

Updated 22 December 2016 (03:08)

I am a writer based in the foothills of North Carolina, specializing in Gothic Horror and Fantasy. Though I do play around with some Science Fiction.