GOE Chapter 1: Wreckage

(OOC- Before you start reading, I want to let you know. This is a novel I have been working on, which I started in April. This is only the outline for the first chapter, and more editing is a guarantee. But this is here so you all can tell me what you think about it, and what I can do to improve myself. I will also give you the novels description, so you can understand the plot.

Description:

"I may have lost my past, but I can always find my future," Osim Phema.

Amnesia, usually caused by a good hit to the head. Osim found this out as he washed up on the shores of a strange new continent known as Cretearix. Without any memory of his past, Osim decides its best to learn about this new place. But when he meets an insectoid female named Kalun and is offered a new life at the Guild of Outcast Explorers, he decides to take on this exotic opportunity, and to reap the rewards. Soon enough he will be thrown into the unexpected chaos of a multicultural town, adventure galore, and even a kobold sorcerer with a goldfish phobia. To top it all off, he and a ragtag group of explorers are enlisted by a struggling king to retrieve the parts of a long-lost staff, so he can restore his kingdoms fertility. Yet some things are meant to be hidden, and with advice from a fallen demon, as well as some assistance from a mighty god, they can only hope to prevent a dangerous event that has been unintentionally reborn.

Thank you all for reading and i cant wait to hear your opinions. So let us begin.)

The Guild of Outcast Explorers.

Sand, warm but wet beach sand, and a whole face full of it. Osim slowly cracked his eyelids open and was instantly blinded by the sun. Even though it was setting, the shine was enough to make him cover his eyes. He scratched his furry head with his clawed fingers and rolled off the plank of driftwood he was on top of. The clunk of his steel battle axe resounded from beside him, and he reached for it. Hooking it onto his belt, he quickly realized something. He had no idea of where he could possibly be, or who he is for that matter. All he knew was that his name was Osim, he washed up on shore, and he had an excessively large bump on his noggin.

Instead of worrying about this amnesia, he stood up, and stretched out his eight-foot-tall body. The black fur across his skin reacted gently to the winds contact and started swaying along with the soothing rhythm. The goatee on his chin followed the same motion. He tapped the steel armoured pants and dumped the sand out of his steel boots. Looking around, he noticed that there were wooden planks as far as he can see along the coast, and even more drifting in. Which probably meant it had been from a ship that sunk. What he also noticed, was a large chest, about a few strides away from him. So, with curiosity, he approached. Upon looking at it, he noticed that there was some form of writing on it.

- For those who wish to open this chest, It shall stay harder than the rocks.

- Unless your name is Osim Phema, and your palm print perfectly locks.

Placing his palm against the surface of the chest, Osim felt a warm sensation. As well as noticing a glowing light in the cracks. The lid opened slightly, and Osim removed his hand and pulled it up. Inside were what appeared to be his belongings. The rest of his armour was on top, and there was more below. A large satchel, a large pouch filled with coins, a dented metal lantern, and some small pouches stuffed full with exotic herbs and ingredients. He took the armour out and set it onto the sand. Then he hooked his lantern onto his belt, and crammed the pouches into the satchel. He closes the lid and heard some chatter from a short distance away.

“This is the jackpot man, wood, cloth, clothes, I haven't even gotten to the quality merchandise that's just laying around.” Said a well built man with a bushy beard.

“ Maybe we could get our hands on some treasure chests, they could be to the brim with coins.” Added another, lankier guy.

“And this is a Pholabic ship, who knows what commodities is out here, ready for us to take. ” Stated the Dwarf that was with them.

“Whose that over there? Looks like a survivor.” Asked the bearded man

Osim watched the men approached, there were five including the chatty ones. Osim slid his hand down onto the handle of his battleaxe, and stood his ground. The men stood a few strides from him, holding their weapons in his direction. Which included a crossbow and different sized swords. The bearded man took charge of the odd situation.

“Just give us your satchel, and the armour, and you can leave. ” Stated the bearded man, with an gluttonous grin.

“Hmm, how about you give me your supplies, and I will let you live. ” Chuckled Osim.

“You crafty bastard, kill him boys. ” Declared the captain.

The man with the crossbow, aimed and fired it at Osim. The bolt darted towards his chest, and instinctually, he moved his arm to block it. The bolt impaled his fleshy arm, and a reddish-purple liquid shot out from the wound. His eyes widened, and his muscles flexed as he felt the pain from the inflicted wound. He shouted in pain, the noise sounded like a low-pitched howl and an angered wail. Even the shore birds hiding in the beach grass were startled by the noise. He lunged, and kicked the crossbowman square in the chest. He pulled out his axe, and in one quick motion, severed the bearded mans arm. He kicked the bearded man in the face, and punched the lanky guy. He then used his axe to finish him off. The dwarf charged, and Osim lifted him over his shoulders, and threw him head first into the ground, breaking his neck. The crossbowman was on his feet, and Osim charged at him. One swing of the axe was enough to take his head clean off. The last man charged, and missed Osim with his swing. Osim grabbed the mans skull and slammed his knee into it. The bearded man watched in a puddle of blood as his men were slaughtered. He cowered as Osim approached.

“Which way to the nearest town?” Asked Osim.

The bearded man pointed to his left. Osim grinned, and finished the man off with his axe. Better than leaving him to bleed out. He grabbed a piece of cloth from the ground, and washed it in the water. He then pulled out the bolt, and then wrapped and tied the cloth around his arm. Picking up his armour, which was sitting in the sand, he began putting it on. He first put on his body armour, followed by his gauntlets. He placed the helmet on his head, closed the visor, and picked up his satchel. He slung the satchel over his shoulder, while at the same time stomping on the bolt that was resting in a puddle of the purple blood. Looking upon the wreckage, he waved his hand, signalling a farewell to the ruin. Osim turned towards the direction of the nearest town, and started walking.

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