This is just a story I'm starting after much thought and debating with myself, lol. The first chapter is kind of just an introduction and such I s'pose, but it gets more exciting and detailed later on and such. Any feedback is appreciated. Chapter 1 The hollow song of wood on wood could be heard throughout the street as the two sparring partners, intertwining and separating like basilisks in a death match, furiously continued their unrelenting assault on one another. One of the two combatants, a tall, slightly muscled, dark brown-haired half-elf jumped backwards and thrust out his left katar while bringing up the right one to try and parry the downward swing of his opponent’s wooden, hand-and-a-half sword. The half-elf’s adversary, a slender drow, frowned in annoyance as his swing was parried and he twisted his body sideways to avoid the thrust of the katar. He brought his sword around and slashed at the half-elf’s chest. His combatant, however, anticipated the blow and swiftly jumped back once more, this time over a rope that was pulled taut across two buildings, obviously signifying the area being closed off, not that the drow or half-elf paid any mind to it. The drow jumped over the same rope but then was forced to stumble back again as the half-elf thrust out his right katar while bringing his left one across for a slash at the neck. However, the drow then smirked as he delivered a straight kick at his the half-elf’s unguarded stomach and watched as the half-elf fell. The drow then brought his sword down and held the point at his opponent’s neck. “You’re dead, Mykal,” the drow proclaimed to his fallen opponent. “Aye, I would be indeed, Ryldan, if it were not in fact a spar,” the half-elf named Mykal said with a lopsided grin while brushing strands of his shaggy-looking, mid-neck length hair out of his eyes. The drow, Ryldan, chuckled as he held out his hand and helped Mykal up off the ground. “You’ve improved drastically,“ Ryldan commented casually, running a hand through his own thick shock of stark white hair. “Thank you, my brother. You have gotten better as well. We’ve both improved very much. Though would be that these weapons were more than wood, and we were actual adventurers, things would be much more exciting,” Mykal said with a wishful look in his bright green eyes as he spoke of adventuring. “That is true, but for now, we are what we are, which isn’t all that bad. I mean, we’re apprentices to superb artisans, we have a fine family and we are practically the best fighters in the kingdom of Sundol aside from the Royal Guard and the king’s knights and whatnot. Though, maybe someday we will have a grand adventure and get a chance to use actual steel and fight actual enemies. We are both only just past our nineteenth year; we have our whole lives ahead of us. And frankly speaking, neither drow nor half-elves have particularly short lives,” Ryldan said with a laugh, and a cheerful light in his unusual, amber colored eyes. Mykal nodded in agreement and started to reply when a burly human stepped out from behind a building. “Hey, can’t you two see the rope? This area is closed off for construction. Get out of here!” the human shouted gruffly. Ryldan and Mykal both gave a brief bow of apology then left before causing any more trouble. Ryldan sheathed his wooden bastard sword into the scabbard at his hip and Mykal slid his katars back into their holders as the two headed to their home. When they arrived they were greeted by the aroma of supper being prepared. Their mother, a fairly comely human woman was stirring some kind of stew when she looked up and greeted the two as they walked in. Their father, a tall, lanky elf was busy writing sorting through various papers when he greeted the two as well. Mykal went off to go help his mother with the cooking while Ryldan stood for a moment as the younger siblings greeted him and Mykal as always. He smiled to himself as he did everyday as he looked upon his “family”. He knew that while he was merely a drow that his “parents” one day found as a baby left to die on the surface world (due to him being thought blind because of his amber colored eyes, rather than red), that they did truly consider them one of their own. With the same smile he wore most of the time, he turned around and started to help set the table for supper. “This stew is delicious,” Mykal said while swallowing a piece of bread wet with stew and then taking a bite of cheese. “Thank you, dear, but how many times have I told you to not talk with your mouth full? Honestly. Would you eat that way in front of guests?” his mother, Tyresa, scolded him. Mykal grinned sheepishly, shook his head and mumbled a ‘Sorry, mother.’ while the rest laughed, the two younger ones most of all. “You always do that,” the 11 year-old fraternal twins Alvar and Nissa said in unison to Mykal. Mykal scowled but could only help but laugh and nod. The ice blue-eyed, auburn-haired twins looked at each other and cheered as they always did when they won a discussion, no matter how small, against either of their older siblings. Ryldan smirked as he took another chunk of bread and tousled the twins’ hair, always finding it amusing how they took after their mother, while Mykal was almost a spitting image of their father. When supper was finished and the table was cleaned, the family started talking. “Yes, so I need to send the letters by bird to the king tomorrow regarding the upcoming tournament,” their father Kallon told Tyresa. “Tournament?!” Alvar, Ryldan and Mykal said in unison. “There’s going to be a tournament? Here?” Ryldan asked. Kallon nodded. “It’s in honor of the birth of the king’s daughter. I am supposed to help him sort out the details,” he said. “This is amazing! I’ve never been in a tournament! This will be great!” Alvar exclaimed. Kallon shook his head at Alvar. “You’re too young, son. They won’t let an eleven year-old participate.” “Ah, but Ryldan and I can. We’re both of age,” Mykal stated enthusiastically. “True, but competing in the actual tournament is only for the knights and fighters of the royal houses in Sundol and the other three kingdoms, I’m afraid,” Kallon said. Ryldan, Mykal, and Alvar, frowned and mumbled. “Why would you want to compete in a tournament anyway? I’d rather watch it or just read,” Nissa said while wrinkling her face in contempt. Being the one with hopes of being a great scholar or mage of some kind, almost all Nissa wanted to do was read. “You’d always just rather read or do boring stuff like that,” Alvar complained. Soon after that, Nissa and Alvar both started arguing loudly and shoving one another lightly before Ryldan and Mykal grabbed them. “Okay, that is enough you two, time for bed,” Ryldan said, picking up the thrashing Nissa and carrying her off, while Mykal did the same to Alvar. All four siblings bid their parents and each other good night before Ryldan and Mykal went back downstairs and then headed outside. “There has to be a way to enter that tourney. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime, we must find a way,” Mykal stated. Ryldan nodded, “I’m sure we will, for now though, if we want to enter the tournament, should we not prepare?” he asked with a sly grin, drawing his wooden bastard sword from it’s sheath, and shaking his messy-looking hair out of his eyes. Mykal, instantly catching his drow brother’s meaning, wrapped his hands around the handles of his katars and got into a defensive stance before both of them lunged at each other and started another fierce competition.