[center]First of all, a note to all. This is more of a story rather than a fan-fiction - it may be based off a few books, perhaps a fusion of some in some cases. Just don't give me the whole "th1s 1snt f4nf1ct10n nub" crap. As for rating? I want C+C - Constructive Criticism, not Crappy Criticism or any other varition. Clear? If you understand, read on. If not? Go QQ.
Intro ((Not as long as story, just like a "Test Chapter" to see response.))
The heavy waves of The Grate Sea struck against the heavy wooden hull of the Rosaveir
, rocking it from side to side in it’s Quest to the Idol of Terasith, God of the Ancients. Samuel Lervar stood on the Rosaveir
’s deck, letting his head dangle over the edge as he watched the waves rush back and forth, back and forth. He was normally found staring over the side – whenever asked why, he would reply, “The waves calm me,” and would say nothing more. Today however, on this stormy day, he, as usual, stood looking over the edge of the deck, his point-tipped ears dangling next to his face, and his mop of strawberry blonde hair sloshing over his head like a hat. His blood red Apprentice Tunic dangled from his neck to below his ankles, and it was tied with a small silver lace belt – traditional to all Apprentices.
Sam began to practice his magic like Borasath had told him, making small balls of water using the ocean, throwing them into the air, and catching them with his magical-hand. That’s what Borasath had told him – “Magic is like a glove, your own special hand. Use it with the elements and it responds pleasantly.”
Borasath was a strange man. Ever since Sam had taken himself into Apprenticeship that thought had always jumped around his head, sometimes at the back of his mind and other times at the front. Borasath always wore a navy blue Tunic, tied with a – obviously more important – golden lace belt, and he wore a small, comfortable looking pair of brown slipper-shoes. He was in his fifties, and had a strange pattern of lines tattooed on his left hand, up his left arm, and all the way down his back. There were also words in the pattern, but Sam had never been able to read them. He thought they were in another language, as he couldn’t tell what the symbols meant. He also couldn’t read, which could mean something.
started rocking heavily, and the clouds began to swell up and release their tears. Sam grabbed a sack of oats on the deck, and pulled it over his head to shield himself from the rain. He ran to the steps leading below-deck, then put the sack down beside the steps, and leapt down the steps two by two. He looked outside one of the circular cabin windows – watching the drops of rain splash against the ocean in miniature explosions. Sam listened to the rain hitting the deck, and began to tap his foot to the beat of the rain. He ran to his cabin and brought out his Apechalo – a string instrument given to him by Morsath The Jungle King – and began to play in time with the rain. Soon, people from the ship began to crowd outside Sam’s door, listening to the music, as they always did when he played. A few of the more burlier sailors began to sing to the tune, while others just stared in awe at Sam’s talent.
Soon however, the tune came to an end, and the sailors and workers returned to their cabins or whatever they had been doing before. However, one man remained in the shadows, he stepped out, his features quickly recognisable, with his short black goatee and hair, fuzzy eyebrows and navy blue eyes. In front of Sam stood Borasath, his Master in the training of Magic.