I Can Write Nonsense Too!

The Watchtower of Ulr’hey stood proudly on the tip of the Surranian peninsula. The ancient fortification was perched upon the hollow remains of a wizened Aleria tree that would still stand against the elements long after the owners of the lookout had faded into memory. It’s jade roof, hand crafted gold adornments and highly reflective Shumi glass observatory absorbed the searing rays from the sun casting a blinding glimmer that could be seen far across the azure waves of the encroaching Tarnath Sea.

It was those quietly churning waters that cast an odour of salt and rot into the air that seemed to cling to every inch of the edifice, it’s shimmering calm surface a mirror to cobalt skies and wispy formless clouds. But it’s constant assault on form and structure was slowly taking it’s toll, the tower was decaying; as all such things must do.

For those who made the watchtower their destination there was only one point of access, a snakelike, barely visible footpath along the top of the peninsula and several aged, creaking, fear inducing bridges constructed of salty rope and pickled wood collected from wrecked ships the ocean had delivered. After that a perilous descent down steps carved out of the living rock hundreds of years ago, by beings long since gone, this downward journey made all the more hazardous by the carpet of clinging moss dampened by both sea and rain.

In this depression where the construction lay visibility was often hampered by whirlwinds of dust and sand that spiraled around the walls of the cliffs like bats trying to escape from a cave, but once inside and on top of the watchtower this ardour was all forgotten; eclipsed by an unhindered view of miles of coastline and ocean until the curve of the planet took it away.

Whilst here it is not just sights that become clearer, up high away from the cliff top the winds tumble by howling like frightened wolves carrying sounds from far across the sea, mysterious sounds that echoed around the Watchtower of Ulr’hey.