This is a small piece of a book im writing

[Decoy]

I will add a new chapter every time I'm on here
Chapter 1

[size=9]Glaring across the barren landscape was a tall figure garbed in black robes, looking like a demon with no purpose but to destroy mercilessly. The figure looked below him at a skeleton of one of the many living things he had demolished in a single day, and crushed it with the sole of his boot, making a horrible crunching noise that echoed across the empty land. Not a single thing stirred in the deserted earth, it even seemed like the gods had silenced the world and stopped the wind in sorrow.
The figure kicked away the splintered bone and strode forward, towards his mount, which had appeared on its masters wishes. It looked like a horse, but it had wolfish traits about it, too. Instead of hooves, it had menacing black claws on its paws that were sharp enough to shred through bone and iron. A ruff that went up its neck and along its magnificent chest, ruffled and uneven, replaced a mane. Its teeth were long and sharp, and the head was more streamlined than that of a horse. The pupils in its golden eyes were slits, but more reptilian than feline.
It pawed the ground with impatience as its rider strode towards it, snorting. The cloaked creature raised a hand and silenced the wolf-horse, which people there called Garroting. The Garroting whined but then stood with its head up, the muscles in its neck straining at the uncomfortable posture.
“Wait and see, Naromphima,” said the cloaked figure to the sky. “I will complete your request, and then you will redeem me and see things my way.” His voice as cold and still as a piece of iron that had been long frozen in the cold months, and it was cruel and unforgiving too.
He mounted his beast and they set off for the mountains, distant on the horizon but visible. The Garrotviend traveled at a prompt gait, with no sign of slowing down. Whatever it was that made it go, it was a strong will. The figure looked around as they rode, taking in the bitter victory. This land was a great city for people far and wide, and the news would spread quickly that it had fallen with not even a building left. He may have been evil, but sometimes he did question the things he did or was to do.
But, he did them anyway.

[Decoy]

Oh, and Garroting is supposed to be Garrotviend. Typo!

[Decoy]

My brother wrote this

[Daisy Rabbit Mae]

wats it called? but, its good! The way you used the words and flowed, its perfect! I cant wait to read more! Its amazing!

[Decoy]

Thanks. Uh, I guess I'll call it Cassadandra. You'll find out why later in the book

[Decoy]

Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away, a young girl named Eloradelle worked in the house, cleaning up after her grandmother. Her grandmother was a small old lady with a lot of spunk, but she was all Eloradelle had. Her mother had told her that her grandmother was not her real grandmother, she was just like her mom’s mother since her own had died young. Eloradelles’s mother also died, she was deathly sick when Eloradelle was eight so she brought her here, or that was what she had been told by her grandmother. Eloradelle was not human, either. Neither were her parents, although her grandmother was. She and her parents had Elven blood, with all the peculiar qualities of an Elf. Her hair was long, dark, and sleek. Her ears came up to a little point at the tip, and her face was perfectly smooth, with out a blemish, boil or wrinkle. She was also very pale, with bright silver eyes, which sparkled like the reflection of the moon on water at night.
As a child, she had always had to keep her hair over her ears and let her grandmother put a crème on her face that darkened her skin. Elves were not supposed to be in the lands of Cassadandra, for this was mankind’s land. The Elves and Mankind had had a brutal war in CIIX, and, because of tremendous odds, the Elves had been forced out of the land and into the Woods. Mankind had allowed Dwarves to live peacefully in the mountains, as long as they did not cause harm to them or the land. They lived perfectly fine like that, no mixing of the people, no “Creatures” living with mankind.
Except for Eloradelle.
She had liven in hiding for almost all her life, and she had been almost ashamed for part of it. Now when she walked the streets, she held her head high and felt proud.
“Elora, could you come here please?” called her feeble old grandmother from the workplace. There is where she would do her paintings. She made her paint, with every hue of the rainbow you can imagine. Once, she was the greatest artist in Cassadandra, and she was known far and wide as the lady whose paintings came to life at the touch of the brush. They didn’t really, but she still was known for the magnificent art.

“Yes, Grandmother. I am here. What is wrong?” Inquired Eloradlle, for her grandmother never called for her while she was painting or working.
“Could you run this painting over to Randan lives? It’s the house farthest down the road, to the East, and you shall see it on the right by an older tree. Is that clear?” asked the stern old lady. She was very sweet, but was also very strong-minded, and she never liked any person to tell her what to do or what was wrong. She was “Iron-willed,” as some would call it.
“Yes, ma’am. I shall be back shortly, as it is not that far down the road. In fact, it’s not that far at all, as I think about it,” she said thoughtfully.
“All right, then. Don’t delay.” as she said this, she seemed to be thinking about a joke from the past, and she had an air of sarcasm.
Elora grabbed the paper wrapped canvas, wondering what the painting looked like. It was tied tightly with a leather string, so the paper would not fall off. The parchment was old looking, yellowed and creased.
She walked out the door with noticeable grace, the Elven traits clearly showing. She was very bony, with little curves, and had long legs. She was told most Elves looked like this, but she couldn’t be sure. The landscape around her was mostly hills, large and green, with Ferra lilies covering the whole hill, which made them look white like snow. The road was just a cut through the hills, and the grass was just dead to make hard packed sod. The houses were all pretty mush the same, wood with darker wood trim. Her grandmother, however, had planted a garden in the front, so the lawn was plastered with daisies, lilies, tulips, and all other kinds of flowers. She even had flower vines growing up the house wall and roof.