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Here There Be Monsters: CH 1: HARBINGERS Scene III (updated 080806)
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<blockquote data-quote="Qwillion" data-source="post: 2982081" data-attributes="member: 14641"><p><strong>Scene II, It Is Better To Be Alive.</strong></p><p></p><p>My name is Victor Ward. I was born and raised at the far end of nowhere, on the outskirts of a tiny village you will never hear of. My mother is Matria Ward-ritter, to me, she is the mother of all mothers, if there is fault in her parenting, it is only that she loves me more than I deserve. She labors in our home from before dawn until after dusk, smiling all the while. My father is a smith who makes things for other smiths, his name is Rundall Ward, and I have known him all my life and know him not at all. My cousin Fidus Ward is my closest friend, raised with me since before we remember; his parents died of the Grace Loss when he was too young to remember.</p><p></p><p>I enjoy my life. My father and I seldom speak but that is his way, and my mother speaks of his love for me. I am both happy and content. Who would ask for more?</p><p></p><p>Today I am awaiting Fidus. He said he had a wondrous surprise for me. So I came to this glade, it is a place I have always loved. It has an almost mythical feel to it, but a sense of sadness as well. Here the grass seems a bit greener, the maple trees that surround the glade are a bit taller, there is stillness here, and even the sounds of the forest seem hushed. The pool of water is deep, Fidus claims there is no bottom; if there is I have never found it. Growing out of the ground, high up into the air, up and out over the waters is a Gift Tree, the tree will not bear fruit, even next to the Deepspring of Ruinark. The imperium’s merchants tried and failed, for all the gift trees west of the mountains are barren.</p><p></p><p>Suddenly there is a rustling in the woods and a piece of the gift tree’s bark falls into the Deepspring. The underbrush to the east parts and coming out of the woods is a bizarre sight.</p><p></p><p>A short, crippled ebony-skinned man with clubbed feet leaning heavily upon a walking stick comes hobbling out of the woods. His hair is clipped short, and has gone all silver-gray, he wears dark blue, almost black, robes that are surprisingly clean even though parts of his body are splattered with dry mud. His arms are a mass of corded muscle which surprises me in a man so old, but I guess if you don’t have good use of your legs your upper body has to make up for it. As I look closely, I notice that his chest is quite broad, reminding me of a barrel of skylights. When he sees me the old man grunts as if some one hit him full in the gut.</p><p></p><p> </p><p>Next to him is a tall woman in a tattered and torn red dress. The woman has a storm of black hair upon her head, she is beautiful and wild with flawless skin, a beguiling body and eyes dark and deeper than the Deepspring of Ruinark. She giggles and then laughs at me outright, a dark, cutting laughter. <em>“Take a journey, confront monsters, and unearth the treasure of your true-self.”</em> She spits this out amid fits of laughter, as if it is some private joke. I find it hard not to stare at her, but I finally look to the burden she is carrying lightly at her side.</p><p></p><p>Looking at him I only know it is better to be alive, his form lies limp and unmoving, as the wild woman turns him I see empty, vacant eyes, unblinking, staring back at me. It is better to be alive. I remember falling out of the Gift Tree and him catching me, before I fell to my death. It is better to be alive. I remember him hiding in my father’s workshop, and us hiding all of father's tools. It is better to be alive. I remember us fighting in End's square over a kiss from a drover girl. It is better to be alive. I remember my mother crying when he fell from Gift Tree and broke his arms. It is better to be alive. I remember my father smiling at him when he finally beat him at the lanceboard. Oh Fidus! What did you do?</p><p></p><p><em>“What did you do …to Fidus?” </em> My shout is harsh, tinged with the grief I am barely holding down. I let red rage take its place. A stone flies from my hand and strikes the woman in the temple. “Damn luck and all her fickle whores.” The old man curses as I run toward Fidus, I dodge to the old man’s side as he brings his stick up in front of him, I kick him in his side with all my might. The stick strikes my knee, but my kick follows through and topples him over, the blinding pain in my knee replaces the rage. I reach out and touch Fidus’ hand but it is not Fidus. Fidus is gone. What I touch is nothing but cold emptiness. The old man leaps using one arm, his other arm lashing out like a coiled viper and the stick takes me in the head. Darkness follows pain.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Qwillion, post: 2982081, member: 14641"] [b]Scene II, It Is Better To Be Alive.[/b] My name is Victor Ward. I was born and raised at the far end of nowhere, on the outskirts of a tiny village you will never hear of. My mother is Matria Ward-ritter, to me, she is the mother of all mothers, if there is fault in her parenting, it is only that she loves me more than I deserve. She labors in our home from before dawn until after dusk, smiling all the while. My father is a smith who makes things for other smiths, his name is Rundall Ward, and I have known him all my life and know him not at all. My cousin Fidus Ward is my closest friend, raised with me since before we remember; his parents died of the Grace Loss when he was too young to remember. I enjoy my life. My father and I seldom speak but that is his way, and my mother speaks of his love for me. I am both happy and content. Who would ask for more? Today I am awaiting Fidus. He said he had a wondrous surprise for me. So I came to this glade, it is a place I have always loved. It has an almost mythical feel to it, but a sense of sadness as well. Here the grass seems a bit greener, the maple trees that surround the glade are a bit taller, there is stillness here, and even the sounds of the forest seem hushed. The pool of water is deep, Fidus claims there is no bottom; if there is I have never found it. Growing out of the ground, high up into the air, up and out over the waters is a Gift Tree, the tree will not bear fruit, even next to the Deepspring of Ruinark. The imperium’s merchants tried and failed, for all the gift trees west of the mountains are barren. Suddenly there is a rustling in the woods and a piece of the gift tree’s bark falls into the Deepspring. The underbrush to the east parts and coming out of the woods is a bizarre sight. A short, crippled ebony-skinned man with clubbed feet leaning heavily upon a walking stick comes hobbling out of the woods. His hair is clipped short, and has gone all silver-gray, he wears dark blue, almost black, robes that are surprisingly clean even though parts of his body are splattered with dry mud. His arms are a mass of corded muscle which surprises me in a man so old, but I guess if you don’t have good use of your legs your upper body has to make up for it. As I look closely, I notice that his chest is quite broad, reminding me of a barrel of skylights. When he sees me the old man grunts as if some one hit him full in the gut. Next to him is a tall woman in a tattered and torn red dress. The woman has a storm of black hair upon her head, she is beautiful and wild with flawless skin, a beguiling body and eyes dark and deeper than the Deepspring of Ruinark. She giggles and then laughs at me outright, a dark, cutting laughter. [I]“Take a journey, confront monsters, and unearth the treasure of your true-self.”[/I] She spits this out amid fits of laughter, as if it is some private joke. I find it hard not to stare at her, but I finally look to the burden she is carrying lightly at her side. Looking at him I only know it is better to be alive, his form lies limp and unmoving, as the wild woman turns him I see empty, vacant eyes, unblinking, staring back at me. It is better to be alive. I remember falling out of the Gift Tree and him catching me, before I fell to my death. It is better to be alive. I remember him hiding in my father’s workshop, and us hiding all of father's tools. It is better to be alive. I remember us fighting in End's square over a kiss from a drover girl. It is better to be alive. I remember my mother crying when he fell from Gift Tree and broke his arms. It is better to be alive. I remember my father smiling at him when he finally beat him at the lanceboard. Oh Fidus! What did you do? [I]“What did you do …to Fidus?” [/I] My shout is harsh, tinged with the grief I am barely holding down. I let red rage take its place. A stone flies from my hand and strikes the woman in the temple. “Damn luck and all her fickle whores.” The old man curses as I run toward Fidus, I dodge to the old man’s side as he brings his stick up in front of him, I kick him in his side with all my might. The stick strikes my knee, but my kick follows through and topples him over, the blinding pain in my knee replaces the rage. I reach out and touch Fidus’ hand but it is not Fidus. Fidus is gone. What I touch is nothing but cold emptiness. The old man leaps using one arm, his other arm lashing out like a coiled viper and the stick takes me in the head. Darkness follows pain. [/QUOTE]
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Here There Be Monsters: CH 1: HARBINGERS Scene III (updated 080806)
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