'How is it I always end up back here?'
This question pesters me like a splinter in my brain as I pass through the southern gates, my hood up, my head low, my steps light. It's dark thankfully, though I notice the guard pays more attention to my passing than usual, and I can feel his stare upon my back as I move quickly up the cobblestone road. The tension is palpable in the city, and the smell is no better than usual, so I do my best to skirt around the main areas, keeping to the side streets.
I spy the rise of the stone gazebo, lit dimly by the lanterns swinging in the winter winds far to the west, and decide to jut north through the slavers quarters and again the smell of the place assaults me and I cringe. I walk past the misery, the dark alley quiet, only the occasional cough or groan lifting from the hapless souls trapped behind the bars, and I ignoring their existence. At one time, I would have felt sorry for them, but now, here, in this place, I simply could not find it in me.
I was lost in these thoughts when I rounded the corner and nearly skidded into a city guard. He was clearly as surprised to see me as I was him, likely due to the fact he was currently already involved in a confrontation, with an ebon skinned male, his ears, his manner, not to mention his red eyes all led me to the brilliant deduction, this was a drow. This particular drow, seemed rather intent on spitting his venomous, hateful words towards the guard, who was quickly back peddling from the aggressive male.
"Militia to ARMS!!" the guard bellows as he quickly decides he is being ambushed with my added presence to the scene and at his point the drow decides to shove the heavily armored guard directly towards me, sending the man stumbling off balance, pinwheeling backwards to stay up on his feet. I brace myself and let him slam into me and grunt with the weight of him. "gotcha" I growl between clenched teeth making sure the man did not clatter to the ground.
Two guards from opposite directions appear, north and south and within minutes the drow, and myself are disarmed and my hood is yanked from my face. "well well, if it isn't a pair of stinking sewer elves" sneers the largest of the three and I sigh, my chin dropping to my chest. I know exactly where these leads next because it is all too familiar to me. Even the term 'sewer elf', oh yes, that one I had heard many times before. I glare at the inky skinned male who had been at the center of this mess and I am not surprised to find him staring at me. What does surprise me, is the venom he held in his gaze for the group of guards that were now in the process of hauling us both off to the stockade, was nothing compared to the disgust he wore in his expression when he glared back at me.
What the hell did I do? It was a fair question after all. I had just happened into HIS problem, I failed to see why he seemed ready to rid me of my head at first given opportunity. Oddly, it amused me for a moment and I let him see my grin, and just out of spite, I blow him a kiss. If I had not been surrounded by armed guards willing to beat me to a stain, I would have laughed out loud at his expression. It was truly priceless.
My accused cohort and I were separated and I was 'processed' rather quickly. Dragged in, stripped down, given only a single layer of clothing and nothing for my feet and tossed into a familiar cell. As I settle myself upon the stone shelf that acts as the only furniture in the dismal little room, I see something upon the wall that makes me smile. "he actually scratched out...hugs" I say aloud into the room and I feel a pang of pained nostalgia. I miss him. I have trouble admitting it to myself, but being here brings it back fresh and I have to confess, his death hit me hard. I had avoided coming to the city since his execution. He was the only reason I used to come to Delmarii in the first place. And yet, somehow, here I was, staring at the old note he had written me, scratched deep into the cell wall. "aww Seb, it's just not the same anymore" I murmur into the dark and for the first time since his death, I allow myself to feel his absence. It draws a single tear from my eye and I allow it to roll silently over my cheek. "He'd poke fun at me for sure" I say aloud into the empty cell and I chuckle as I wipe it away. I draw a deep sigh and close my eyes, knowing I am going nowhere fast and decide to get some sleep and allow old friends to visit my dreams.
The door creaks open some several hours later and I as I rise to my feet, I am met with a solid boot to the gut which knocks the wind out of my lungs and drops me to a knee. "Bag her!" the words are barked from the hall and I do not fight as a linen sack covers my head and I am shackled hands and feet. I recall thinking that I was likely being executed, but at the time the idea did not really bother me all that much. I am unceremoniously tossed into the back of a wagon face down, and there are at least two pairs of boots on my back making sure I stay that way. I find it a rather uncomfortable, uneventful ride considering I couldn't see a thing but we rock over cobblestones the entire trip, steadily moving uphill as we go.
I am once again dragged somewhere, the smells and sounds are strange, rich, pungent and even more so as I feel the downward haul of stone steps. It is not until I am thrown against a wall and chained by a single ankle shackle that I am released from the sack over my head and I open my eyes to the wondrous and unsurprising sight of another dank cell. This one, a tad larger and slightly more damp with welcoming pile of moldy hay in the corner. No one bothers to tell me where I am and I do not bother to ask, I am certain I will find out eventually.
It's at least another half a day, or perhaps closer to a day and a half, it was hard to tell really, I tend to sleep a lot when I am bored. But eventually the answer came and a heavily armed, heavily armored pair of guards arrive. It is the Royal Crest upon the breastplate that curls my brow upwards and as I am led up a small set of stone stairs that rise for four floors and comes out at the top of a short but rather opulent hallway. I blink as the dazzling glare of golden sconces and crystal chandeliers reflect light over thick carpet and velvet walls.
A pair of golden doors is opened as my escorts pass me through them and there surprisingly there is a small ornately cushioned Dias, in a private marble chamber, with a pale skinned, regal looking woman seated primly upon it, her blonde hair curled upon her head, and pinned in place with the unmistakable accessory of a golden, bejeweled crown. The doors are closed behind me, and the pair of guards remain making sure I take to my knees by taking them out from beneath me with a swift kick. "welcome to Delmar Rashka" come the soft, pleasant words. "forgive the abrupt invitation, but in these unsettled times, it was for your own safety that you be escorted quickly to me" she explains. These words wring a smirk from my lips, but I offer nothing else to this woman. There is no way, no way I am where I think I am. It makes no sense.
"How long have you been visiting Delmar?" she asks me directly, and so I give her an honest reply, "over five years..." and I pause, then risk the guess, "your Majesty" I add. I am rewarded when she does not correct the title, and I am informed that yes indeed, I am kneeling before the Queen of Delmar. "indeed?" my answer seems to surprise the woman and she looks to her guards questioningly. Neither apparently has a suitable answer to offer and she is content to return to questioning me. "well then it seems my welcome is somewhat tardy" she concludes pleasantly. "Rashka, please allow me to get to my point" she offers needlessly, like I was going to interrupt her.
"You have been arrested before, or so I am informed" and to this I only nod, "you knocked out a city guard" she reminds me, and again I smirk, "Oh yah" I respond, and chuckle a little as I recall the night Sebastion dragged me into that mess. "according to the records actually, you have a habit of attacking poachers as well, you are skilled in survival and combat and according to the guard who's jaw you broke, hit like charging bear", with this said the woman lifts her eyes from a small parchment I had yet to notice upon her lap.
"Rashka, you are hereby recruited into the Rangers of Delmar" she informs me directly, "the Militia has two uses, one to keep the city secure, the other to guard the borders and keep them safe. The Rangers, are the hunters between the two" she explains, "you are several things I require all in one" she smiles politely, "and so, I am giving you a job" she explains. It is at this point I finally find reason to speak again, "and if I refuse, or fail?" I press calmly. "Then you return to the cells, and remain there. If you are in Delmar, you are in service to me and this land. If you are not, then you are a threat to it and will be dealt with as such.". Why was I not already dead? This thought rambled casually through my brain as the Queen spoke. The Queen. I was on my knees before the Queen of Delmar. Why was she even talking to me? Since when does the Queen personally recruit grunts for Goblin Patrol? The questions pile up, but the answers that came were far and few between.
I spend the next hour getting the full details of my new fate before I am turned about and arbitrarily dismissed. I am happy to depart through the golden doors again, and as they close behind me I am both relieved and dismayed. I was just drafted. It was this thought on my mind when I am escorted down the hall past a certain familiar Drow. The very same one who got me arrested in the first place. He stares at me as we pass each other, both of us with a pair of guards on each side, and I return his glare with an icy one of my own, because I was in this shit neck deep because of him. I took a moment to wonder what the Queen would want with him. I guess she has to keep track of all the trouble making Drow if she wants to keep the ceasefire between the Nations intact. It was the best I could do on the fly.
I am not left to wonder upon it long as I am not returned to my cell, but instead, bagged and guided out of the palace and left at the edge of the city, with all my belongings. I stand there watching the wagon depart, the two Royal guards disappearing with it, and I look towards the beckon of the free road that leads to the forest and I take the open gate as an invitation and I flee. "I fucking despise that place" the last words I utter as I pass through the gates, the urge to punch the guard as I do, was nearly overwhelming. I raise my hood as I put distance between me and the stinking stone cage, and I spit my disgust upon the road as I move quickly southwards. "If she thinks I am going to do her dirty work Seb"...I murmur under my breath, "she clearly doesn't know me very well" the next few words pushed out from between gritted teeth as I take the first opportunity eastwards to meld into the greenery. "catch me if you can".
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Saturday, February 4, 2012
The Problem With House Guests
I kneel over the small fire stirring it to life, bringing light and warm into my humble shelter. I look down at the small pup who had immediately put his nose to the ground and began to investigate his new surroundings the moment his little paws hit the dirt floor. It was a long trip for him and we were both soaked to the skin, but the little guy held up pretty good all things considered. At the moment that thought entered my head however, he decided to mark this new place as his own and I growl at him as he promptly lifts his leg and invokes my displeasure.
Snatching the little bugger up in midstream, I promptly toss his ungrateful little ass into the cold rain beyond the green curtain that divides the weather from the warmth. I go back to the business of unpacking, setting everything back in its place, "you don't own shit here mister" I mutter under my breath, unwrapping my soggy bedroll, sighing, "looks like I sleep in fur tonight". It is then I hear a pathetic, rather apologetic whine as a certain, uppity pup sticks his nose back through the opening, and I stop and eyeball him straight on. This immediately causes him to freeze and cower, and I resist the urge to smile at him, damn he had his moments..and I recall thinking, 'I hate cute, there is simply no defense'.
"Alright you presumptuous little shit, let's get something straight right now" I inform the little pup sternly, though somewhere after the first word, he had already invited himself back in and was waddling his way towards me. "This...is MY house" I tell him, and even as I speak I know he will likely be chewing on my boots before morning. I sigh as he noses his way under a small woven shelf in the corner and upsets my tools with a clatter, sending a rain of iron and steel projectiles down around him. "Zalon...where the hell are you?" I grumble to myself, looking at the little pest worm his way through my belongings and I sigh, "It's not like I could leave you there" I mutter aloud, "every child deserves someone looking out for it, even mutts like us".
I wonder exactly what had led to me finding the dog in the first place. He was locked up in that room, for days it seemed like. It certainly smelled that way. He had no food or water, and the adorable little pain in the ass was incredibly happy to see me. What can I say...I'm a dog person. I scooped him up, and set out to find Seb, or Zalon, or someone to take care of him, then I was getting the hell out of the city. Problem was, I couldn't find anything of the sort, what I did get, was a pretty convincing threat from Sully to turn him to soup if I left him behind. So, here he is, roaming all over what few things I have and somehow, I feel the comfort of his being here. I wasn't alone.
After I had set everything in place, I spent a few minutes preparing a meal for my guest and myself, and it did not take all that long. Luckily for me, my new friend and I have the same tastes when it comes to dinner. When both our bellies were full, and I had properly educated him on where he was to take care of business, we settled down by the fire. He was more than content to cuddle in next to me, seeming to understand it was time to do just that.
"Well, if you are staying for awhile, I best figure out what to call you..." and a few names immediately starting racing through my brain and for a moment, I did not know why I knew them. I watch as the little pup starts chewing on the furs we lay on, and I shake my head, "Kuzma...no" I chastise, my tone sharp but still quiet. He seems to get the message and I nod, "he was a pain in the ass too" I explain to the little bundle of fur.
I know I have to take him back, but there is no sense in hanging out in the city in hiding with this nuisance, when even being seen with Sebastion right now can mean jail time. We will lie low for a while, Seb would get that, then turn up in a week or two when things have calmed down. In the mean time, I think I will educate this little man about manners. It is on that thought that I drift off to sleep, oblivious of what was coming. Thinking back, had I known what was about to happen, no one would have been sleeping that night.
I take a moment or two and shift into a more comfortable state of self and sigh again. My little companion is at first, quite put out by efforts, but is soon once more curled up against me, his eyes closing quickly. I curl up around him protectively, and feel his little heartbeat near me and feel grateful for his presence.
Snatching the little bugger up in midstream, I promptly toss his ungrateful little ass into the cold rain beyond the green curtain that divides the weather from the warmth. I go back to the business of unpacking, setting everything back in its place, "you don't own shit here mister" I mutter under my breath, unwrapping my soggy bedroll, sighing, "looks like I sleep in fur tonight". It is then I hear a pathetic, rather apologetic whine as a certain, uppity pup sticks his nose back through the opening, and I stop and eyeball him straight on. This immediately causes him to freeze and cower, and I resist the urge to smile at him, damn he had his moments..and I recall thinking, 'I hate cute, there is simply no defense'.
"Alright you presumptuous little shit, let's get something straight right now" I inform the little pup sternly, though somewhere after the first word, he had already invited himself back in and was waddling his way towards me. "This...is MY house" I tell him, and even as I speak I know he will likely be chewing on my boots before morning. I sigh as he noses his way under a small woven shelf in the corner and upsets my tools with a clatter, sending a rain of iron and steel projectiles down around him. "Zalon...where the hell are you?" I grumble to myself, looking at the little pest worm his way through my belongings and I sigh, "It's not like I could leave you there" I mutter aloud, "every child deserves someone looking out for it, even mutts like us".
I wonder exactly what had led to me finding the dog in the first place. He was locked up in that room, for days it seemed like. It certainly smelled that way. He had no food or water, and the adorable little pain in the ass was incredibly happy to see me. What can I say...I'm a dog person. I scooped him up, and set out to find Seb, or Zalon, or someone to take care of him, then I was getting the hell out of the city. Problem was, I couldn't find anything of the sort, what I did get, was a pretty convincing threat from Sully to turn him to soup if I left him behind. So, here he is, roaming all over what few things I have and somehow, I feel the comfort of his being here. I wasn't alone.
After I had set everything in place, I spent a few minutes preparing a meal for my guest and myself, and it did not take all that long. Luckily for me, my new friend and I have the same tastes when it comes to dinner. When both our bellies were full, and I had properly educated him on where he was to take care of business, we settled down by the fire. He was more than content to cuddle in next to me, seeming to understand it was time to do just that.
"Well, if you are staying for awhile, I best figure out what to call you..." and a few names immediately starting racing through my brain and for a moment, I did not know why I knew them. I watch as the little pup starts chewing on the furs we lay on, and I shake my head, "Kuzma...no" I chastise, my tone sharp but still quiet. He seems to get the message and I nod, "he was a pain in the ass too" I explain to the little bundle of fur.
I know I have to take him back, but there is no sense in hanging out in the city in hiding with this nuisance, when even being seen with Sebastion right now can mean jail time. We will lie low for a while, Seb would get that, then turn up in a week or two when things have calmed down. In the mean time, I think I will educate this little man about manners. It is on that thought that I drift off to sleep, oblivious of what was coming. Thinking back, had I known what was about to happen, no one would have been sleeping that night.
I take a moment or two and shift into a more comfortable state of self and sigh again. My little companion is at first, quite put out by efforts, but is soon once more curled up against me, his eyes closing quickly. I curl up around him protectively, and feel his little heartbeat near me and feel grateful for his presence.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
The Winter of Our Discontent
It's cold. Not that bone chilling snap that hurts your lungs when you breathe, but more that damp, wet, clinging chill that sinks into your bones and even when you are warm, you feel the lingering presence of it on your skin. I have wasted too much time avoiding the city, procrastinating simply because I hate the place, but it's time. I can smell the snow on the salt winds. It's coming, and it's going to be a big one. If I want that axe and those knives, I will need to go to Delmarii. I will need the wood, I will need the skins, if I don't go now its a long, cold winter ahead for me.
I travel light and move fast, moving at a decent clip to keep ahead of the predators that prowl the area. Had I possessed more time I might have taken my time and cleared a swath through the center of the forest. That was not an option however and so I let the hunt lie for now and moved towards the city, each step building a little ball of tension in my chest and deepening the scowl on my face.
There is one small consolation in this trip, I will be stopping by to visit an old friend. It's been months since I have seen him and I find when I am overwhelmed by the solitude of my existence, it is him that brings pleasant memories and unseen smiles. Admittedly there is a certain longing to be once again listening to his confusing, outrageous stories and having him drag me into some ridiculous situation where I have to knock a guard on his ass and we have to high tail it off the streets. He just can't seem to stay put or stay out of trouble, and yes, granted, it takes about two days of him before I remember why I like living alone, but for the moment, I was looking forward to seeing him.
I suppose I should not have been surprised when I walked up to the southern gate of that miserable stone cage and low and behold, guess who's face is plastered up there, plain as day in the form of a 'Wanted' poster. My hood is up and I am covered, gloves, scarf, hood, layers of gear and right now as I stand there staring at his face and the thousand coin price tag on his head, I look like everyone else. That's good because it looks like I might have to linger awhile. I however do not linger long at the gate, the soldiers there tend to be nosy pricks, and if I get into an altercation there, I do not get in today. That is motivation enough to spur me on past the wanted poster and into the bustling streets of Delmarii Bastion.
The stink of the place hits me like a warm, putrid breeze and for a moment I am overwhelmed, nearly retching with it. I do not understand how these people can stand it, going about their business like they don't even notice. I keep my scarf up for more reasons than one as I make my way deeper into the city. I immediately turn west inside the gate, choosing the less offensive path of the residential area at the south end of the city, and skirting the outer wall. I deliberately enter after dark and keep moving, most of those who do spot me, pay no attention to my presence, likely occupied with their warmer, friendlier destinations.
The neighbourhood begins to degrade as I head north and as I pass the Grassland Gates, the difference is immediate. The stone and brick homes are replaced with ramshackle, one room sheds that act as shelter for those who can not afford better. It is here where the smell is the worst, but it is here that I must go. It takes the better part of an hour, my pace never slowing, my path unfailing, only pausing now and then long enough to make sure there is no one on my tail.
As I round a familiar corner, I spy the oddly out of place building that dominates this end of town, a massive log structure that always has a light on and a fire burning in the hearth. It is a relief to see it there, and for a moment it feels like coming home somehow. I scan around one more time before stepping through the door, and I immediately spy a familiar scowl behind the bar, and it brings a grin to my lips beneath my scarf. It's good to see that grouch is still here scaring away the customers. Some things never change. I cross the room, and pause at the bar, drawing the man's attention. He approaches and his scowl makes me smile. I drop my scarf and ask him one question, and wait for his reply...
"Where is he Sully?"
I travel light and move fast, moving at a decent clip to keep ahead of the predators that prowl the area. Had I possessed more time I might have taken my time and cleared a swath through the center of the forest. That was not an option however and so I let the hunt lie for now and moved towards the city, each step building a little ball of tension in my chest and deepening the scowl on my face.
There is one small consolation in this trip, I will be stopping by to visit an old friend. It's been months since I have seen him and I find when I am overwhelmed by the solitude of my existence, it is him that brings pleasant memories and unseen smiles. Admittedly there is a certain longing to be once again listening to his confusing, outrageous stories and having him drag me into some ridiculous situation where I have to knock a guard on his ass and we have to high tail it off the streets. He just can't seem to stay put or stay out of trouble, and yes, granted, it takes about two days of him before I remember why I like living alone, but for the moment, I was looking forward to seeing him.
I suppose I should not have been surprised when I walked up to the southern gate of that miserable stone cage and low and behold, guess who's face is plastered up there, plain as day in the form of a 'Wanted' poster. My hood is up and I am covered, gloves, scarf, hood, layers of gear and right now as I stand there staring at his face and the thousand coin price tag on his head, I look like everyone else. That's good because it looks like I might have to linger awhile. I however do not linger long at the gate, the soldiers there tend to be nosy pricks, and if I get into an altercation there, I do not get in today. That is motivation enough to spur me on past the wanted poster and into the bustling streets of Delmarii Bastion.
The stink of the place hits me like a warm, putrid breeze and for a moment I am overwhelmed, nearly retching with it. I do not understand how these people can stand it, going about their business like they don't even notice. I keep my scarf up for more reasons than one as I make my way deeper into the city. I immediately turn west inside the gate, choosing the less offensive path of the residential area at the south end of the city, and skirting the outer wall. I deliberately enter after dark and keep moving, most of those who do spot me, pay no attention to my presence, likely occupied with their warmer, friendlier destinations.
The neighbourhood begins to degrade as I head north and as I pass the Grassland Gates, the difference is immediate. The stone and brick homes are replaced with ramshackle, one room sheds that act as shelter for those who can not afford better. It is here where the smell is the worst, but it is here that I must go. It takes the better part of an hour, my pace never slowing, my path unfailing, only pausing now and then long enough to make sure there is no one on my tail.
As I round a familiar corner, I spy the oddly out of place building that dominates this end of town, a massive log structure that always has a light on and a fire burning in the hearth. It is a relief to see it there, and for a moment it feels like coming home somehow. I scan around one more time before stepping through the door, and I immediately spy a familiar scowl behind the bar, and it brings a grin to my lips beneath my scarf. It's good to see that grouch is still here scaring away the customers. Some things never change. I cross the room, and pause at the bar, drawing the man's attention. He approaches and his scowl makes me smile. I drop my scarf and ask him one question, and wait for his reply...
"Where is he Sully?"
Friday, September 2, 2011
A Trip to the Stone Cage
It has been several months since the gates were cast open and the freedom of the open grasslands was granted to me and how I took to that offer. I fled the city without looking back, that stone cage, crawling with misery. I could not wait to break free, and when I did, I reveled in the open sky and the endless grass and the clean smell of the sea as the west winds dance over the plains.
I slept beneath the stars, and I was calm. Calm...is good. I felt so aggressive in that confined space. Always having to be careful, always watching my back, hiding my face, moving at night. I am not trusted in the city, I have not harmed a single one among them, and yet they look upon me and hatred and mistrust is what I am greeting with. It is a shame, but it is nothing I am not entirely used to. So now that I am not crated up with them, I can breathe again, and feel the tension in my mind, ease back and slumber.
I must admit though, I miss that lunatic that usually kept me company there. He came to visit me a few weeks back. It was unexpected and it confused me at first, but by the time he left, I was glad he had come. Somehow he is always able to find a way to distract me from the intensity of own thoughts, and get me to laugh. I can not explain how grateful I am for that small gift. The fact I can laugh in his presence, though I will confess, I am just as likely to want to smack him up side is boggled little head, he can so easily frustrate me.
When he tracked me down the second time, it was a warning he brought. Seems someone knows about me, which is funny, because the one thing they THINK they know, they got wrong. Typical. However, this does nothing to change the danger my friend, and his are now facing. But of course when it came down to it, my predictable little enabler had his own motivations for involving me in this nonsense. I owe him, I can not deny that, and so I help him. Much to my dismay, we begin our little adventure by breaking into the Militia Stockade. Yeah, I know, that's what I thought too. Still, we did it, and what I needed was right where he said it would be. Apparently the man spends a lot of time here. I don't even want to know.
"Where are we going?" he pesters me after we had escaped the stockade undetected. I had turned north and then cut west, heading towards the western residential area. "This way" I reply back, wringing an exasperated sigh from my companion. I enjoyed it, him being out of the loop. He does it to everyone else for fun and profit, having it done back to him, just amuses the hell out of me. "What are the gloves for?" he pesters, "I just like the way they smell" I smirked, "In case you didn't notice, I have a weird thing for leather" I added and it was true, nearly everything I wear is made of the stuff. As if to make my point, I drew the pair of leather gloves I had knicked from the stockade and brings them to my nose, sniffing deeply, "Aww ya, that's the stuff" I announce dramatically. The look on his face was almost enough to crack me up. Almost.
We wandered northwards, walking slowly through the slums, my pace unhurried, and my steps light. We were both cloaked and moving through the shadows, the night, deep and still. The patrols were heavy, and it took us quite a bit of detouring and backtracking to work our way slowly through the streets. Every now and then I would draw out the gloves dip them beneath my nose, which just seem to drive my companion to distraction, and I would chuckle and tuck them back into my belt. "How far is it now?" he would ask, "No idea." I would reply and we would keep on walking, turning down street after street until finally, after walking nearly all night, just before dawn...I stop.
To the left, a small unassuming stone cottage, barred by a wooden door. I draw in a deep breath and move forward, and lingering before the door. Turning towards my companion I nod, "This is the place" I finally confirm to him, and wait for him to approach. "Really?" he replies back, "You sure?" he presses incessantly. I put my ear to the door, and wait for a long, silent moment and then nod to him again, "She's here, there are at least three others in there as well" I add, then turn away from the door. Moving back to a safer, less conspicuous location "So now what?" I ask him, and for a time he just stands there looking at the small house. When no answer comes, I turn and begin to move off, not willing to linger. "I'm out, leave word with Sully if you need me"
I find my way out of the stone cage and return to the plains and draw in the clear air through my nose and sigh, "I hate the stink of that place" I complain to the warm breeze just as the sun crests up over the forest behind me. I decide to not wander too far from the city, and make camp just out of sight of the walls, waiting for signs of trouble. I have no idea how trouble is going to find me. I just have a feeling it will come hot on the heels of the man I just led to his prize.
I slept beneath the stars, and I was calm. Calm...is good. I felt so aggressive in that confined space. Always having to be careful, always watching my back, hiding my face, moving at night. I am not trusted in the city, I have not harmed a single one among them, and yet they look upon me and hatred and mistrust is what I am greeting with. It is a shame, but it is nothing I am not entirely used to. So now that I am not crated up with them, I can breathe again, and feel the tension in my mind, ease back and slumber.
I must admit though, I miss that lunatic that usually kept me company there. He came to visit me a few weeks back. It was unexpected and it confused me at first, but by the time he left, I was glad he had come. Somehow he is always able to find a way to distract me from the intensity of own thoughts, and get me to laugh. I can not explain how grateful I am for that small gift. The fact I can laugh in his presence, though I will confess, I am just as likely to want to smack him up side is boggled little head, he can so easily frustrate me.
When he tracked me down the second time, it was a warning he brought. Seems someone knows about me, which is funny, because the one thing they THINK they know, they got wrong. Typical. However, this does nothing to change the danger my friend, and his are now facing. But of course when it came down to it, my predictable little enabler had his own motivations for involving me in this nonsense. I owe him, I can not deny that, and so I help him. Much to my dismay, we begin our little adventure by breaking into the Militia Stockade. Yeah, I know, that's what I thought too. Still, we did it, and what I needed was right where he said it would be. Apparently the man spends a lot of time here. I don't even want to know.
"Where are we going?" he pesters me after we had escaped the stockade undetected. I had turned north and then cut west, heading towards the western residential area. "This way" I reply back, wringing an exasperated sigh from my companion. I enjoyed it, him being out of the loop. He does it to everyone else for fun and profit, having it done back to him, just amuses the hell out of me. "What are the gloves for?" he pesters, "I just like the way they smell" I smirked, "In case you didn't notice, I have a weird thing for leather" I added and it was true, nearly everything I wear is made of the stuff. As if to make my point, I drew the pair of leather gloves I had knicked from the stockade and brings them to my nose, sniffing deeply, "Aww ya, that's the stuff" I announce dramatically. The look on his face was almost enough to crack me up. Almost.
We wandered northwards, walking slowly through the slums, my pace unhurried, and my steps light. We were both cloaked and moving through the shadows, the night, deep and still. The patrols were heavy, and it took us quite a bit of detouring and backtracking to work our way slowly through the streets. Every now and then I would draw out the gloves dip them beneath my nose, which just seem to drive my companion to distraction, and I would chuckle and tuck them back into my belt. "How far is it now?" he would ask, "No idea." I would reply and we would keep on walking, turning down street after street until finally, after walking nearly all night, just before dawn...I stop.
To the left, a small unassuming stone cottage, barred by a wooden door. I draw in a deep breath and move forward, and lingering before the door. Turning towards my companion I nod, "This is the place" I finally confirm to him, and wait for him to approach. "Really?" he replies back, "You sure?" he presses incessantly. I put my ear to the door, and wait for a long, silent moment and then nod to him again, "She's here, there are at least three others in there as well" I add, then turn away from the door. Moving back to a safer, less conspicuous location "So now what?" I ask him, and for a time he just stands there looking at the small house. When no answer comes, I turn and begin to move off, not willing to linger. "I'm out, leave word with Sully if you need me"
I find my way out of the stone cage and return to the plains and draw in the clear air through my nose and sigh, "I hate the stink of that place" I complain to the warm breeze just as the sun crests up over the forest behind me. I decide to not wander too far from the city, and make camp just out of sight of the walls, waiting for signs of trouble. I have no idea how trouble is going to find me. I just have a feeling it will come hot on the heels of the man I just led to his prize.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Bad Influences - Continued
He dumps a rather large hand full of coins into my open palms and I am torn. It is both a relief to see it, and a tragedy of my conscience to know how I had come to it.
We had decidedly surprised each other, though I clearly had the upper hand when I arrived in the room. It took me far less time to adjust to my arrival than it did him. 'How?! how did you get in here?' he had demanded of me, more than once. 'I have recently learned, sometimes, it is better not to know everything' was the only reply I would give him. The incident, left him glowering and mistrustful of me, and somehow, I enjoyed it. It felt good to have the upper hand again, if only briefly.
We pushed past my unannounced appearance, and I moved on to the fact that he was HERE instead of cooling his heels in a jail cell down at the city stockade. 'How did you get out?' I pressed, just as curious as he was, I too wanted to know just exactly what had gone on since we parted ways a few hours ago. His explanation was quick, practiced and plausible and so, I let him have his secret.
We both decided we had earned our rest, and he wandered off to wherever it was he laid his head for the night and I slipped into bed and was out before my head hit the pillow. Somehow, I had trouble sleeping, the bed itself seeming to be the problem and finally I ended up on the floor with the blanket for the last few hours of the night.
A sharp rap at the door jolts me awake, 'lunch!' the familiar voice calls through the wooden barrier and I hear his foot steps creaking down the hallway as he departs. I sigh, and stretch and rise to my feet, grimacing as I force away the stiffness of my muscles. He is waiting for me outside the front door, and he tempts me to the Wandering Monk with promises of better fare than 'piss and old veggies'. And so we take the long way around, wandering down quiet, residential, mid day streets, the rain lingering still, but in a moderate, steady mist that seems to paint the world grey.
My companion apparently knows the entire city by name, and makes it his business to smile, talk or interact with each and every one along our journey. For a guy supposedly trying to keep a low profile, he certainly is a sociable fellow. As we approach the gazebo, it is no different, for he calls to a young man beneath the shelter of the thorn covered building and draws his attention. And so it went until the young man was joining us for lunch and none too soon, for the militia soldier was paying far too close attention to the pair of us as it was.
We settled in, finally arriving out of the rain and into the shelter of the Monk, sitting along the bar, thick as thieves it would appear to anyone there. But between us, the young man and I tested our boundaries with each other while my friend subtly poked at his ego. I was not entirely sure why he would pick up yet another hapless lost soul of the city, and I was even more confused about the subject when only a few minutes later, he bolts from his stool and shouts at the top of his lungs, 'help! Guards! we have a thief here!!'.
On my feet already, an empty bowl in one hand and a half full mug of mead in the other, I look stupidly at the soldier who bursts through the door demanding to know what was going on, I simply shrug helplessly watching as our young companion knots his fist tight, bellows loudly, 'fuck you!' and lands a solid crack upon my companions jaw, sending him reeling backwards. That was enough for the soldier, for he is into the fray in just a few heartbeats and soon the three of them are tussling about in the middle of the room, while myself and the dismayed bartender watched.
The young man is the first to break free of the tangle and he bolts for the door, my friend is then hot on his heels. The guard with all his armor, struggles to his feet and makes after the pair as quickly as he can manage, all while I stand there mute and confounded. I am fairly certain I am still standing that way when my companion returns with a smug grin upon his face and without ceremony returns to his stool and orders every bottle of beer on the shelf.
'come on! we're celebrating!' he informs me, handing me a bottle, 'lets head home and take a few for the boys'. I watch as he downs a bottle in mere moments and I ask, 'do you mind explaining to me what that was all about?'. He laughs aloud and steps out of the building his arms full of bottles and a good buzz going, 'that was about giving the guards something else to do besides look for me' he says in a tone that hints perhaps that I might be somewhat of a simpleton.
I suppose he may be right, and I had to admit, and even said so out loud, 'that, was fucking brilliant' I concede and I watch as he drains two more bottles on our walk back through the city. Things seemed fine as we were passing the temple, until we moved just around the corner and suddenly my friend, stumbled. He stumbled, then he cursed, well it was kind of like cursing, accept it sounded as if he was trying to do it through a mouth full of cotton. Then, he simply face planted into the street.
The crash of glass bottles upon the cobblestones could have waken the dead, and it did draw some attention for who rounded the corner not a few moments later, but our young assailant from the Monk. I am caught that way, standing with a crooked head, and a bewildered expression as I stare at my inebriated friend as the young man approaches. 'don't blame me, I didn't do THAT to him' he assures me as he arrives. 'yes, I know...I was here' my smirk intact as I reply. I grab my friend by the heels, my intent, to drag him back home, when a stocky man wanders by doing his best to hide his dismayed curiosity as he hurries past the odd scene.
I really have no idea what to make of my new benefactor. Half the time, I truly suspect the man to be entirely unbalance, but still, I can not help but admire his approach to life. He goes through each day as if it is his last and he best enjoy it, and be damned and to hell with tomorrow. It is a lesson I will likely never learn myself, but perhaps...I might pick up a new trick or two in his company.
We had decidedly surprised each other, though I clearly had the upper hand when I arrived in the room. It took me far less time to adjust to my arrival than it did him. 'How?! how did you get in here?' he had demanded of me, more than once. 'I have recently learned, sometimes, it is better not to know everything' was the only reply I would give him. The incident, left him glowering and mistrustful of me, and somehow, I enjoyed it. It felt good to have the upper hand again, if only briefly.
We pushed past my unannounced appearance, and I moved on to the fact that he was HERE instead of cooling his heels in a jail cell down at the city stockade. 'How did you get out?' I pressed, just as curious as he was, I too wanted to know just exactly what had gone on since we parted ways a few hours ago. His explanation was quick, practiced and plausible and so, I let him have his secret.
We both decided we had earned our rest, and he wandered off to wherever it was he laid his head for the night and I slipped into bed and was out before my head hit the pillow. Somehow, I had trouble sleeping, the bed itself seeming to be the problem and finally I ended up on the floor with the blanket for the last few hours of the night.
A sharp rap at the door jolts me awake, 'lunch!' the familiar voice calls through the wooden barrier and I hear his foot steps creaking down the hallway as he departs. I sigh, and stretch and rise to my feet, grimacing as I force away the stiffness of my muscles. He is waiting for me outside the front door, and he tempts me to the Wandering Monk with promises of better fare than 'piss and old veggies'. And so we take the long way around, wandering down quiet, residential, mid day streets, the rain lingering still, but in a moderate, steady mist that seems to paint the world grey.
My companion apparently knows the entire city by name, and makes it his business to smile, talk or interact with each and every one along our journey. For a guy supposedly trying to keep a low profile, he certainly is a sociable fellow. As we approach the gazebo, it is no different, for he calls to a young man beneath the shelter of the thorn covered building and draws his attention. And so it went until the young man was joining us for lunch and none too soon, for the militia soldier was paying far too close attention to the pair of us as it was.
We settled in, finally arriving out of the rain and into the shelter of the Monk, sitting along the bar, thick as thieves it would appear to anyone there. But between us, the young man and I tested our boundaries with each other while my friend subtly poked at his ego. I was not entirely sure why he would pick up yet another hapless lost soul of the city, and I was even more confused about the subject when only a few minutes later, he bolts from his stool and shouts at the top of his lungs, 'help! Guards! we have a thief here!!'.
On my feet already, an empty bowl in one hand and a half full mug of mead in the other, I look stupidly at the soldier who bursts through the door demanding to know what was going on, I simply shrug helplessly watching as our young companion knots his fist tight, bellows loudly, 'fuck you!' and lands a solid crack upon my companions jaw, sending him reeling backwards. That was enough for the soldier, for he is into the fray in just a few heartbeats and soon the three of them are tussling about in the middle of the room, while myself and the dismayed bartender watched.
The young man is the first to break free of the tangle and he bolts for the door, my friend is then hot on his heels. The guard with all his armor, struggles to his feet and makes after the pair as quickly as he can manage, all while I stand there mute and confounded. I am fairly certain I am still standing that way when my companion returns with a smug grin upon his face and without ceremony returns to his stool and orders every bottle of beer on the shelf.
'come on! we're celebrating!' he informs me, handing me a bottle, 'lets head home and take a few for the boys'. I watch as he downs a bottle in mere moments and I ask, 'do you mind explaining to me what that was all about?'. He laughs aloud and steps out of the building his arms full of bottles and a good buzz going, 'that was about giving the guards something else to do besides look for me' he says in a tone that hints perhaps that I might be somewhat of a simpleton.
I suppose he may be right, and I had to admit, and even said so out loud, 'that, was fucking brilliant' I concede and I watch as he drains two more bottles on our walk back through the city. Things seemed fine as we were passing the temple, until we moved just around the corner and suddenly my friend, stumbled. He stumbled, then he cursed, well it was kind of like cursing, accept it sounded as if he was trying to do it through a mouth full of cotton. Then, he simply face planted into the street.
The crash of glass bottles upon the cobblestones could have waken the dead, and it did draw some attention for who rounded the corner not a few moments later, but our young assailant from the Monk. I am caught that way, standing with a crooked head, and a bewildered expression as I stare at my inebriated friend as the young man approaches. 'don't blame me, I didn't do THAT to him' he assures me as he arrives. 'yes, I know...I was here' my smirk intact as I reply. I grab my friend by the heels, my intent, to drag him back home, when a stocky man wanders by doing his best to hide his dismayed curiosity as he hurries past the odd scene.
I really have no idea what to make of my new benefactor. Half the time, I truly suspect the man to be entirely unbalance, but still, I can not help but admire his approach to life. He goes through each day as if it is his last and he best enjoy it, and be damned and to hell with tomorrow. It is a lesson I will likely never learn myself, but perhaps...I might pick up a new trick or two in his company.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Bad Influences.
I knew the moment I agreed, it was a mistake.
'It just might be your way out', he had said to me. In theory, it sounded good, even if we failed and I ended up shackled and tossed into the stockade which, from the sounds of it was a real possibility, in the end, it STILL might get me out. And so, even as I pretended to weigh the decision over a vile mug of fermented swill, I knew I had to at least try. 'I'm more of an enforcer type' I had declared dryly, then gave him a ridiculous demonstration to prove it, something I would do again later.
I sat there a moment longer, pondering all the worst possible scenarios we might encounter on this little fiasco, when it occurred to me, he LIKES it. He likes the excitement of this hand to mouth existence. I had to admit, I did not worry where my next meal was coming from, I knew, always, that I would eat and survive, if I was free. And so, I could at least respect his choice to live as he did. Besides, he has so far, been the only kindness I have seen in this city. He did not have to help me when he found me, but he did.
This was the third time since I met the pain in the ass, that he had tried with his silver tongue and his friendly, persuasive intentions to capitalize on what he believes is an opportunity in me. At least, I think...that's what he thinks. I feel like somewhere along the line, I lost the ability to trust my own judgement. Even now, I was not completely sure this entire place was not some imprisoning dream that I had no way to wake from.
The bald man across the bar looks at me, "he has a point" he echoed, he who had only moments before taken my side, had so quickly turned on me and grinned while he did it. "I suppose he does". Did I say that out loud? Why am I even talking to these people? That is what I really want to know. Why am I not down in the dark places just waiting, out of the way causing no harm, waiting for my opportunity to flee? It was a good question.
I ask myself another, a series of many that would plague me that night. Why do I trust his word more than my own? To be honest, it's not much of a stretch to the answer to that one. I am completely out of my element, he seems to be basking in his life in this city. Such a care free, easy going, come what may spirit that leaves me feeling unsettled and yet I find it strangely appealing. I know...know to the marrow of my bones, that I am not one of those spirits. Perhaps that is why I watch him with a puzzled, perplexed scattering of thoughts. Just trying to follow what he says sometimes can leave me drained. Still, I have smiled in his company, something else I know truly, happens rarely in me.
Before I know it, I am following him out of the tavern and down the street in the pouring rain and I am sure to keep my hood up and my head low. Most likely think me male, which is fine by me, I'm as tall and easily weight as much as the average of their kind, so it is likely I would be misidentified in the dark, and where we are headed, that could come in very handy.
'I need you to talk to the guard, distract him while I pick the lock' his voice was low as we lingered around the corner. I looked at him like he was insane, for he clearly had never met me before. 'do I really strike you as a charming conversationalist?' my whispered reply was harshly insubordinate. 'think of something!' he insists through his teeth and shoves me around the corner and into full view of the City Militia posted at the gate. I stand there a moment, frozen which in of itself seems to surprise me as well, leaving me even more useless. It is the soldier's voice that snaps me out of my stupor, 'State yer business!' the command is barked and the tone clearly expects a reply.
It is enough to draw me forward, and again I keep low, stumble once, a light instability that deliberately shows and I offer the most feminine voice I can muster, 'Sir....' I offer from beneath my hooded cloak the sound weak and cracked, and almost immediately I see it in him, that sense of confidence, of letting down his guard as he realizes I am merely a woman. 'Sir...I need your help', and with that I nearly fall into the man at the gate, his spear raised and he reaches out to assist. Silly boy.
The uppercut started low, beneath the cloak as I leaned forward into my so called fall. I plant my foot into the stone street and shove my full weight upwards with my fist rocketing from my knees straight up, connecting with the underside of his chin as I reach to my full height in a jerking crack towards the sky. There is a crunch of teeth on teeth and the militia soldier topples backwards, hitting the iron barrier behind him with a clatter of armor. I have my hand around his cape and am dragging him away from the gate when my companion rounds the corner. 'you sweet talker you', he murmurs with a crooked smirk as he goes to work on the lock. I have just time enough to dump the guard behind a hedge and turn, and he is already leaning against the open gate, looking incredibly smug. 'must you dawdle?'
The rest is kind of a blur it all happened so fast. The trip through the quiet of the District was without incident, no one saw a thing and we slipped in far deeper and easier into their jealously guarded paradise than anyone in power would care to know. He stops at a house, a big house, but then they are all big up here. I look at the opulence, the waste of wealth while down in the bowels of the city, there are many who will live their whole lives without such luxuries. Many of them, will die young because of it. It makes my blood boil, as I stand there, perhaps that is why I did not hear the soldier until it was too late. My friend steps back into the revealing glow of the street lamp, just at the soldier catches sight of us.
'Hey! You do not belong here!'
'Suggestions?', Another brilliant question I posed to my co-conspirator. He grins, something about getting caught lights a fire in his eyes, and he offers an equally brilliant answer. 'Run!', And with that, he is off.
Well, I did not need to be told twice, for just as he takes his first step away from the approaching soldier, a Triad Templar steps into view from the other direction. He must have been very surprised indeed when the pair of us bowled him over as we fled more or less right OVER him. The gig was up and shouts begin to form somewhere behind us, which seemed to encourage our speed as we ran through the gilded streets. We tear full tilt down the hill we climbed to get here, and screech to a halt as we find the gate, once again occupied, as a very unimpressed city militia with an aching jaw sees the pair of them come skidding in, looking perhaps a little less tolerant of our arrival than
'Now what?!', I blurt out as I look to my companion for another brilliant spur of the moment plan. He however, offers me a shock, not the first of the evening, but alas it was far from the last as well. He tackles the soldier, head on, 'Go!! I've got this!', he bellows, even as the butt end of the spear in the soldiers hand cracks him on the back of the skull, and he crumples at the guard's feet. I did not wait around, as he fell, I fled.
I am not proud of it, but I knew I would not help him if I went with him to the stockade, so instead, I fled back through the night. The rain covering the sounds of the boots upon the stone, as I fled to the only safe place I knew. It occurs to me as I burst through the door, that I had lost my friend, put myself on a wanted list on some bureaucrats desk, and at the end of it all, I am still locked behind these damned walls.
'It just might be your way out', he had said to me. In theory, it sounded good, even if we failed and I ended up shackled and tossed into the stockade which, from the sounds of it was a real possibility, in the end, it STILL might get me out. And so, even as I pretended to weigh the decision over a vile mug of fermented swill, I knew I had to at least try. 'I'm more of an enforcer type' I had declared dryly, then gave him a ridiculous demonstration to prove it, something I would do again later.
I sat there a moment longer, pondering all the worst possible scenarios we might encounter on this little fiasco, when it occurred to me, he LIKES it. He likes the excitement of this hand to mouth existence. I had to admit, I did not worry where my next meal was coming from, I knew, always, that I would eat and survive, if I was free. And so, I could at least respect his choice to live as he did. Besides, he has so far, been the only kindness I have seen in this city. He did not have to help me when he found me, but he did.
This was the third time since I met the pain in the ass, that he had tried with his silver tongue and his friendly, persuasive intentions to capitalize on what he believes is an opportunity in me. At least, I think...that's what he thinks. I feel like somewhere along the line, I lost the ability to trust my own judgement. Even now, I was not completely sure this entire place was not some imprisoning dream that I had no way to wake from.
The bald man across the bar looks at me, "he has a point" he echoed, he who had only moments before taken my side, had so quickly turned on me and grinned while he did it. "I suppose he does". Did I say that out loud? Why am I even talking to these people? That is what I really want to know. Why am I not down in the dark places just waiting, out of the way causing no harm, waiting for my opportunity to flee? It was a good question.
I ask myself another, a series of many that would plague me that night. Why do I trust his word more than my own? To be honest, it's not much of a stretch to the answer to that one. I am completely out of my element, he seems to be basking in his life in this city. Such a care free, easy going, come what may spirit that leaves me feeling unsettled and yet I find it strangely appealing. I know...know to the marrow of my bones, that I am not one of those spirits. Perhaps that is why I watch him with a puzzled, perplexed scattering of thoughts. Just trying to follow what he says sometimes can leave me drained. Still, I have smiled in his company, something else I know truly, happens rarely in me.
Before I know it, I am following him out of the tavern and down the street in the pouring rain and I am sure to keep my hood up and my head low. Most likely think me male, which is fine by me, I'm as tall and easily weight as much as the average of their kind, so it is likely I would be misidentified in the dark, and where we are headed, that could come in very handy.
'I need you to talk to the guard, distract him while I pick the lock' his voice was low as we lingered around the corner. I looked at him like he was insane, for he clearly had never met me before. 'do I really strike you as a charming conversationalist?' my whispered reply was harshly insubordinate. 'think of something!' he insists through his teeth and shoves me around the corner and into full view of the City Militia posted at the gate. I stand there a moment, frozen which in of itself seems to surprise me as well, leaving me even more useless. It is the soldier's voice that snaps me out of my stupor, 'State yer business!' the command is barked and the tone clearly expects a reply.
It is enough to draw me forward, and again I keep low, stumble once, a light instability that deliberately shows and I offer the most feminine voice I can muster, 'Sir....' I offer from beneath my hooded cloak the sound weak and cracked, and almost immediately I see it in him, that sense of confidence, of letting down his guard as he realizes I am merely a woman. 'Sir...I need your help', and with that I nearly fall into the man at the gate, his spear raised and he reaches out to assist. Silly boy.
The uppercut started low, beneath the cloak as I leaned forward into my so called fall. I plant my foot into the stone street and shove my full weight upwards with my fist rocketing from my knees straight up, connecting with the underside of his chin as I reach to my full height in a jerking crack towards the sky. There is a crunch of teeth on teeth and the militia soldier topples backwards, hitting the iron barrier behind him with a clatter of armor. I have my hand around his cape and am dragging him away from the gate when my companion rounds the corner. 'you sweet talker you', he murmurs with a crooked smirk as he goes to work on the lock. I have just time enough to dump the guard behind a hedge and turn, and he is already leaning against the open gate, looking incredibly smug. 'must you dawdle?'
The rest is kind of a blur it all happened so fast. The trip through the quiet of the District was without incident, no one saw a thing and we slipped in far deeper and easier into their jealously guarded paradise than anyone in power would care to know. He stops at a house, a big house, but then they are all big up here. I look at the opulence, the waste of wealth while down in the bowels of the city, there are many who will live their whole lives without such luxuries. Many of them, will die young because of it. It makes my blood boil, as I stand there, perhaps that is why I did not hear the soldier until it was too late. My friend steps back into the revealing glow of the street lamp, just at the soldier catches sight of us.
'Hey! You do not belong here!'
'Suggestions?', Another brilliant question I posed to my co-conspirator. He grins, something about getting caught lights a fire in his eyes, and he offers an equally brilliant answer. 'Run!', And with that, he is off.
Well, I did not need to be told twice, for just as he takes his first step away from the approaching soldier, a Triad Templar steps into view from the other direction. He must have been very surprised indeed when the pair of us bowled him over as we fled more or less right OVER him. The gig was up and shouts begin to form somewhere behind us, which seemed to encourage our speed as we ran through the gilded streets. We tear full tilt down the hill we climbed to get here, and screech to a halt as we find the gate, once again occupied, as a very unimpressed city militia with an aching jaw sees the pair of them come skidding in, looking perhaps a little less tolerant of our arrival than
'Now what?!', I blurt out as I look to my companion for another brilliant spur of the moment plan. He however, offers me a shock, not the first of the evening, but alas it was far from the last as well. He tackles the soldier, head on, 'Go!! I've got this!', he bellows, even as the butt end of the spear in the soldiers hand cracks him on the back of the skull, and he crumples at the guard's feet. I did not wait around, as he fell, I fled.
I am not proud of it, but I knew I would not help him if I went with him to the stockade, so instead, I fled back through the night. The rain covering the sounds of the boots upon the stone, as I fled to the only safe place I knew. It occurs to me as I burst through the door, that I had lost my friend, put myself on a wanted list on some bureaucrats desk, and at the end of it all, I am still locked behind these damned walls.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
A Moment of Retrospect
There is a too thin cloak wrapped over my otherwise nude form, a scant barrier between myself and the chill of my surroundings. The hood is up, and as I sit against the cold stone to my back, I tuck my knees to my chest, and let the cloak fall to the ground around me, acting as a shield against the world that I inexplicably find myself in.
This is not my home.
My grey skin is cold to the touch, but I am barely aware of it, as I sit and listen to the skittering sounds in the darkness that ceaselessly rise and fall around me. My mind drifts, aimlessly, for I am truly lost. This...place..is not my home. I know this to my core, but where home might be, when...it was...I can not remember. I feel hollow, vacant, shattered. Something has gone terribly wrong, and somehow, I find myself huddled in the dark, among the vermin of a city I do not know.
They are human, of that much I am certain, though the uniforms, the street names, the smells, are completely unfamiliar to me. I struggle in the darkness beneath my impenetrable cloak on trying to recall how I got here. My mind begins to wander and attempts to settle for a time upon an abstract conversation I had with an infuriating man while I was perched upon a floating chair. But even as I knew this man had refused to part with anything but the most mundane information, for some reason, I could not clearly recall anything he specifically said. It was as if, I could recall the meaning of the conversation, I could lock in on the intent and message of the words, and yet not recall a single phrase spoken.
A low, frustrated growl rises from my downcast hood, and it scatters a few rats that had wandered unaware to my vicinity. I was getting no where sitting here and waiting for answers to miraculously appear. I was going to have to figure out exactly where I was, and how to ensure my continued survival. I may be able to live off of sewer rats if I must, but that will never suffice for long. I need to find a way out of this damned city, and soon.
The meaning of the conversation once more presses into my thinking, while the words escape me, I knew he told me, that my world was gone. Everyone, everything, that once had been, was no more and now, I am here. He refused to say why, he would not tell me where here is, just that here was all there was, and I best get used to it. He also mentioned that I would likely be despised in this world. Well, thanks for that. Just what I needed, to be unceremoniously dumped into a place where I do not belong nor will I be welcomed.
Something else sits with me though, something that was spoken, but not from the antagonist who beckoned me here, no, this was a kinder voice, who challenged me to continue on, and do what I have always done, but do it in a world, where I might make a difference. It is this concept that I finally settle on, and let my mind weave the idea into my consciousness. Words lift into the dank air, little wisps of vapor rising from my lips along with them as I speak with a quiet, stony resolve, "I am a Guardian". It was the only thing I knew for certain, and that I desperately ached for the green places. I could smell them from the streets above, but it quickly became clear the walls around this damned stone cage were meant to do precisely what they accomplish.
Oddly, the thought strikes me like a blow to the chest, and something brings a sudden sob to my lips that I can not explain. A pain in my chest of overwhelming loss just hits like an attacking mountain bear and I am unable to contain it. 'The Stone Cage', the words echo in my brain, I KNOW it means something, something important, but I can find nothing more than that in my misted memory, and suddenly it is too much, and without warning, I let rise a long, horrified howl of misery for those I could no longer recall, but ached for none the less. My strangled cry fades to another agonized sob, and leaves me exhausted. I do not know for whom I mourn, but it does little to wipe from me, the burden of their loss.
I linger there a time before I am able to struggle again to my unsteady feet. Focus, I MUST focus, I need to get out of here and back to where I belong. If I am discovered by those I was warned of, I may not last long here at all. As I begin to get my bearings, and map out my new hunting grounds, I am left to wonder if that infuriating man who left me in this foul smelling place, bothered to warn the world of exactly what he had released into it. For as I took each step, a renewed sense of self began to take hold of me, and I felt more and more at home in my own skin. He said, 'You will be despised here', and so I brace myself for it, but I think to be fair, he should have warned them as well, they may just bite off more than they can chew when they tangle with the likes of me.
This is not my home.
My grey skin is cold to the touch, but I am barely aware of it, as I sit and listen to the skittering sounds in the darkness that ceaselessly rise and fall around me. My mind drifts, aimlessly, for I am truly lost. This...place..is not my home. I know this to my core, but where home might be, when...it was...I can not remember. I feel hollow, vacant, shattered. Something has gone terribly wrong, and somehow, I find myself huddled in the dark, among the vermin of a city I do not know.
They are human, of that much I am certain, though the uniforms, the street names, the smells, are completely unfamiliar to me. I struggle in the darkness beneath my impenetrable cloak on trying to recall how I got here. My mind begins to wander and attempts to settle for a time upon an abstract conversation I had with an infuriating man while I was perched upon a floating chair. But even as I knew this man had refused to part with anything but the most mundane information, for some reason, I could not clearly recall anything he specifically said. It was as if, I could recall the meaning of the conversation, I could lock in on the intent and message of the words, and yet not recall a single phrase spoken.
A low, frustrated growl rises from my downcast hood, and it scatters a few rats that had wandered unaware to my vicinity. I was getting no where sitting here and waiting for answers to miraculously appear. I was going to have to figure out exactly where I was, and how to ensure my continued survival. I may be able to live off of sewer rats if I must, but that will never suffice for long. I need to find a way out of this damned city, and soon.
The meaning of the conversation once more presses into my thinking, while the words escape me, I knew he told me, that my world was gone. Everyone, everything, that once had been, was no more and now, I am here. He refused to say why, he would not tell me where here is, just that here was all there was, and I best get used to it. He also mentioned that I would likely be despised in this world. Well, thanks for that. Just what I needed, to be unceremoniously dumped into a place where I do not belong nor will I be welcomed.
Something else sits with me though, something that was spoken, but not from the antagonist who beckoned me here, no, this was a kinder voice, who challenged me to continue on, and do what I have always done, but do it in a world, where I might make a difference. It is this concept that I finally settle on, and let my mind weave the idea into my consciousness. Words lift into the dank air, little wisps of vapor rising from my lips along with them as I speak with a quiet, stony resolve, "I am a Guardian". It was the only thing I knew for certain, and that I desperately ached for the green places. I could smell them from the streets above, but it quickly became clear the walls around this damned stone cage were meant to do precisely what they accomplish.
Oddly, the thought strikes me like a blow to the chest, and something brings a sudden sob to my lips that I can not explain. A pain in my chest of overwhelming loss just hits like an attacking mountain bear and I am unable to contain it. 'The Stone Cage', the words echo in my brain, I KNOW it means something, something important, but I can find nothing more than that in my misted memory, and suddenly it is too much, and without warning, I let rise a long, horrified howl of misery for those I could no longer recall, but ached for none the less. My strangled cry fades to another agonized sob, and leaves me exhausted. I do not know for whom I mourn, but it does little to wipe from me, the burden of their loss.
I linger there a time before I am able to struggle again to my unsteady feet. Focus, I MUST focus, I need to get out of here and back to where I belong. If I am discovered by those I was warned of, I may not last long here at all. As I begin to get my bearings, and map out my new hunting grounds, I am left to wonder if that infuriating man who left me in this foul smelling place, bothered to warn the world of exactly what he had released into it. For as I took each step, a renewed sense of self began to take hold of me, and I felt more and more at home in my own skin. He said, 'You will be despised here', and so I brace myself for it, but I think to be fair, he should have warned them as well, they may just bite off more than they can chew when they tangle with the likes of me.
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