Chapter 1 Part 1 WIP

Threw a forest trail laid a dirt path barely kept alive by the souls of the few who traveled it. Sun shone and brought a glow along the edges of the trail, the warm light found the canopy above rather less than air tight. It was a good morning, seldom seen anymore, often unnoticed, and again even less so appreciated. This in mind there will always be the acceptation to the norm and Gates, the brown fox of the path would take his time today and enjoy the journey.

He rarely had any place to be, much less cared to make good time to wherever he was going. To him he was always home, he lived on trails like this and today he kept such a slow pace you would think him standing still if you saw him from afar. He took in the warm air, listened to the breeze in the canopy and the birds there within. It was a perfect leisure stroll and Gates appreciated every moment he had.

Eventually he found himself in a small clearing, a torn stump from a long fallen tree made a good place to sit for lunch and get his bearings. He felt at this rate it would take him a bit longer to find the town of Esapek, a town rather removed from everything and rightly so. Most villages of this era knew of magic but few of them appreciated it. Often times any misfortune was the fault of witches and spell weavers, or so people concluded. Every failed crop, fallen tree, or hang nail without stone solid cause was always the work of magic, sometimes even with the solid proof. It was shameful that people where so ready to take up arms against people they might otherwise beg for solutions to the same problems.

Like most villages that specialized in magic, Esapek kept itself secluded and few maps even acknowledged its existence. They had a great many tricks to keep most people from finding their way and only few traders where privileged with information on how to access such a place. Having access to one such town was worth a small fortune, as the people here just as any town needed supplies. With few traders able to access these towns it was easy to extort goods, trading essentials for amazing enchantments and spells.

Gates himself got lucky in this case. In the last town he had by chance noticed this map in a small pawn store. The owner claimed it was a treasure map from an old retired adventurer and promised everything Gates had ever dreamed of would be there. In fact it was more likely the trader lost it by chance of cards, intoxication or some such fate and it got sold to this man because of how pretty it looked. Luckily, the key to all of Gates dreams and desires only cost him less than two bits of silver.

Gates would chuckle to himself as he looked over the map, almost a bit giddy at the find he's made. He held the sandwich in is long maw as he went through his belongings to retrieve a magnifying glass. maps like these often hid little important details between the lines and he had to make sure he wasn't about to wonder off a cliff. He found the tool but not before bits of his sandwich slipped from his maw to the inside of his bag, making a rather nasty mess amongst his belongings. It nicked his good morning but he wouldn't let it bother him now. He didn't know it but soon he'd find he'd forgotten all about this problem for another.

On their own accord his long brown ears twitched and almost swivled, the fox perked his head out of his belongings a moment behind his ears twitch and looked behind him. He could hear something but wasn't sure what it was. He was always keen to beasts and predators that may stalk such places but not only where such dangers almost unheard of here it sounded nothing like that. Even though he couldn't make it out he felt soothed by the sound. Like the glow of the sun itself it made him relax, almost to the point he wondered if it was part of some trap. Whatever it was it begged his curiosity. Carefully he laid his belongings aside, hiding them among the stomp as to not have a bag of things such as cookware rattle as he stalked the noise.

Times like this he was thankful for his heritage, never ashamed of it but often finding it creating obstacles for him. Perhaps one of the reasons he preferred the outdoors was it was there his strengths where peaked but elsewhere it often made things awkward. Back to the moment at hand the fox crept closer, moving behind the brushes, overstepping branches, dried leaves and other noise makers with care and dexterity. Though nothing certain yet he could hear the sound clearer as he approached. It wasn't natural to the forest but at the same time, it was. It was a peaceful tone, at place here but hardly something the wind or birds would whistle.

*As Gates crept closer this is the sound he heard* http://www.newgrounds.com/audio/listen/460066 Credit to Ashley Alyse of Newgrounds

Soon he would notice more than the music, he began to notice the trees shimmered in more brilliance than the sun alone could achieve. It was subtle, very subtle but a soft array of lights reflected off the trees nearby. He could see brilliance in the light's quiet voice, an array of colors, almost masked yet vibrant rang from the wooden canvas. The whole thing was so mismatched. It seemed, or almost felt there should be more; something begged the idea to Gates that the whole thing was being muffled, like listening to a song with a pillow over your head. Granted that might suggest you didn't want to hear it but that wasn't the case. Gates continued to creep closer, wanting to put a visual source to this wonder.

It took what seemed an age to make his way close enough to the sound to find its cause. Two women, one young with hair that seemed to steal the glow of fire itself, the other older, built large and strong as born from a sculptor's finest work. Her hair much as the younger's seemed of fire only dulled and kept up in a bun. The prize of the scene though, while rivaled with the young girls beauty was not as such but what seemed a brilliant light she kept had in front of her. On a pillow the elder women held upright the object shown with brilliance and once more it seemed to have a harmony with the music itself. The girl stirred her hands around the light; anyone who mocked the director of a chorus by twirling their hands to music could see a resemblance in these motions. The girl lightly danced her hands around the light, again seeming almost in chorus to the music itself.

This was magic, magic to take sound itself and create a visual element to music. It seemed a moment appropriate to philosophers and artists who could never really fathom how sound might appear.