Post by Asherion on Mar 16, 2022 22:10:28 GMT -8
Chaos Renewed
The Land of Nothing, a vast void filled with emptiness and chaos; made up of a harsh soil sapped of nutrients and fertility. If Earth is the embodiment of life and prosperity then this land is its opposite. No sounds can be heard in this land except the violent roars of chaos that brew within the sky. A crimson swirl made of all things malicious. Anger, sadness, jealousy, lust, and pain are only a handful of the emotions embodied by the awesome tempest. Alone in this land lies a crying child in a basket, screaming for any form of nutriment and peace from the storm. The basket, woven with a dark rosewood, has the reminiscence of a flame that can be seen charred to one side. The Blanket, a pure white cloth tucked neatly around the child to keep it secure and warm. The child, screaming but unheard over the deafening voice of the sky. The wind seems to be too much for the child's weight as it and the basket are suddenly sent skyward by the chaos. Fate, however, seems to bless the child as the basket catches the branch of a lone tree. The Tree, a blessing within this land, moans and creaks as the winds blow with all its might causing it to contort in an unnatural way. All of this, only a soft whisper in the storm.
A sudden sound of a battle-horn and approaching cries awaken a soldier sitting against an old tree.The armor he wore, soaked in blood both dried and fresh, was steel plating embedded in hard leather, fastened with leather straps and steel buckles. A gold medallion, flickering in the setting sunlight, pressed with a dragon eating a ruby stone, clenched in his right hand; proof he was a warrior of the Eastern Congregate. How long was he asleep? What was that dream about? All questions he had were suddenly halted when he looked down to see his left arm was gone; cut clean through and wrapped in a blood-soaked linen cloth. The man began to feel nauseous and leaned to his right to spew his last meal. As he was retching a hand slapped his shoulder and gripped it tightly. The soldier quickly pulled out his dagger with his only hand, the blade now pressed against the soft flesh of his opposition’s neck.
“Ethan!?” The man’s voice was fuzzy to Ethan and hard to understand. The sound of blood pumping in his body was the only thing Ethan could clearly hear, though he recognized his face.
“Nathanael… “
“Ethan come on we are going to be late for school!” A young Nathanael tried to shake his sleeping friend. “If Mrs. Gretta sees you’re still asleep she will kill us!”
‘ “I’m up I’m up” Ethan squints as the sunlight pierces his eyes from the curtains. In The Gretta Foster Estate all children slept in cots packed in close to one another to conserve space. Nathanael’s cot just so happened to be next to Ethan’s so they became friends pretty quick. Despite how much all the children complained about the lack of living space and privacy, Mrs. Gretta always insisted that she couldn’t afford to let them have more rooms because of her ‘lack of trust in their sense of responsibility.’ Ethan knew she just didn’t want to dig into the fortune she was making off all the children she held within the estate. However, he could remember the first day he met Nathanael; a group of the older kids were bullying him for the fact he came from a richer family compared to the rest of the kids attending. Ethan was never bothered by things like that. As far as he was concerned Nathanael was his own person. He rolls off the bed begrudgingly and begins to get dressed and ready.
Both the boys were reprimanded quickly as they entered the class tardy. Their punishment was bathroom duty for a month. Some of the boys who found this duo distasteful tended to leave extra surprises for the boys. It seemed one day a gang of them got together to smear their feces across the walls, making sure to prepare a message for them.
“This is bullshit…I’m tired of this!” Nathanael slams the shit stained rag into a bucket filled with murky brown and green water. “All the guys hate me for no reason, and you still stick with me even though they hate you now too. Why?” He looks over to Ethan who’s continuing to clean the wall.
“Probably is gay for you, you spoiled little shit.” While they were cleaning two older kids, by a few years, snuck into the bathroom. One smaller the other bigger, but both towered over the young boys. “Aww what didn't you like our message? We made it just for you two miserable demon spawn. Chandler I don’t think they liked it.” The obvious alpha out of the two looks over to his overgrown partner. Chandler was built like a carriage, and it seems the other was the horse pulling him along. How this kid was this size and only a few years older than them was beyond Ethan.
“Hehe..let’s squash them squash them.” The big child begins to giggle and clap excitedly. Chandler’s size was definitely compensating for the brain, and his buddy vice versa. Before Ethan could even react he was already being pinned down into the shit and piss ridden floor by the surprisingly strong hands of Chandler. He tries to struggle, but the sudden force of a kick to his ribs causes Ethan to writhe in pain and gasp for his breath. “Kick him again Conor kick him again.” The sadistic man-child giggled with joy as he watched Ethan begin to cry from the pain.
“Stop it!!” Nathanael goes to jump onto Chandler, but is quickly grabbed by Conor. A swift blow to the stomach lands on Nathanael causing him to lose his lunch and double over. Nathanael, now being dragged to the bucket. Ethan, barely able to breath and when he does it takes everything in him not to let up his stomach as well. Both boys, powerless compared to their older counterparts. “Let me g-” Nathanael’s head is quickly shoved into the bucket, unable to break the grip Conor has on the back of his neck.
“Nathanael…How long was I?” Ethans throat is dry and it’s hard for him to speak. His voice comes out in a raspy wisp as he sheaths his blade and tries to stand feably.
“No time for that. Can you move?” Nathanael’s armor was different from Ethan’s, but he had the same medallion shaped into his chest piece. His armor was made of steel, but you wouldn’t guess that from the soote he was covered in. Nathanael grips under Ethan’s arm to support him as he stands.
“I’m standing right?” Ethan says bluntly and emotionlessly, though he grimaces a bit as he moves. In any other circumstance Ethan would deny this help, but in his position right now he has no choice. “Why didn’t you just leave me for dead like the rest did?” His eyes look over to Nathanael who then begins to laugh. “You think this is funny?” A scorn forming on his face.
“This situation, hardly, however I do find it amusing you’d think I’d leave a colleague so easily.” A soft smile formed on his face as he looked back at Ethan.
“Heh…Well I guess I owe you one then, but I’m afraid I won’t be much use in a fight.” The screams and cries of young warrior men are heard throughout the hills, only being muffled by the thick forest that enclosed the opening. In between the hills was a small river that served as the epicenter of the battle; two sides, both men. The Eastern Congregate has been at war with the Shin Tribes for over 5 years now, and neither side has seemed to give yet. Ethan recalls the past few years of his life being filled with bloodshed. So many men dead, families ripped apart, and, if he were to survive this, his cheating death. The two young men started away from the battle, but Ethan couldn’t shake this feeling of dread he had as he looked where his arm should have been.
“You probably won’t ever fight again. I did the best I could Ethan, but a soldier without an arm on the battlefield is just extra weight. I’m sorry…” A look of sadness came across Nathanael’s face as he also looked at Ethans wound. “I guess this is just your fate, but we all must face our destiny some day.” A silence fell on the two for a moment as they walked, nothing but fleeting thoughts waiting to be conveyed. The air was thick and a light fog glazed over the land as they traversed the thick woodscape. “It won’t be too long before we reach our camp.” Nathanael says as he keeps his eyes forward, focused on the task at hand.
“Yeah…Can’t wait.” Ethan says sarcastically as he eyes his wound. He tries to remember how this could have happened to him, but it’s all foggy. The only remembrance he had was the phantom pains that plagued him. His mind began to flood with blame upon himself for not being a better warrior, and the shame was almost unbearable. The phantom pains were nothing compared to the scars on his honor, but he kept the same stern look of determination. His eyes trail to Nathanael as he thinks of what was said. ‘Never fight again huh? We’ll see…’
Suddenly the air falls still on the land, trees, wind, and other life seem to stop in time and fall silent. The sound of blood pumping, again, the only thing filling the auditory void. A slight rustle in a nearby bush, the quick gleaming reflection of sun off metal, and the whistling sound of the wind. A sudden force pushes Ethan off his feet, sending him rolling onto his wounded arm. The pain was excruciating, but this did not stop him from quickly recovering to his feet. His gaze locks on to Nathanael who seems to have been stabbed by a thick metal throwing dagger in between his forearm and bicep. Blood dripped and leaked from Nathanael’s arm covering the dagger.
“Shit…” Nathanael clenches his jaw and groans in pain as he rips the blade from his body, quickly bandaging the wound with a ripped piece of his shirt. “Show yourself coward!!” Nathanael’s voice filled with rage as he unsheathed his blade.
“This was my father’s.” A young, but slightly older, Nathanael had promised to show Ethan a secret of his since the boys had begun to grow closer to one another. Nathanael quickly pulls out a dirty stained linen sack tied at the end with hemp rope. “I always told Mrs. Gretta this was just an old umbrella my mom gave me before she died.” Nathanael laughed a bit as he untied the sack and pulled out a magnificent blade. His blade, A falchion fitted with a black dragon hilt and menacing ruby eyes, spewing flames out that acted as the crossguard.
“What’s that?” Ethan points to an etching on the side of the blade.
“I don’t know. Never got the chance to ask my dad honestly.” The etchings seemed to be some strange symbols or letters that neither could understand. Nathanael tries to pick the blade up proper, but the weight is too much for his yet to be developed arms. “Gah! It’s so heavy I don’t know how anyone could swing this thing, let alone with one arm. Here you try.” Nathanael tosses the blade over to Ethan. The blade smacks his chest, and Ethan loses some air from the force.
“Hey, watch it!!” an agitated look forming on Ethan’s face, but this only causes Nathanael to laugh. Ignoring him, Ethan now looks down to the blade to see himself within the metal.
“It’s fantastic isn’t it?” Nathanael’s reflection, now seen behind Ethan’s. “I can’t wait for the day when I finally get to use it.”
The Land of Nothing, a vast void filled with emptiness and chaos; made up of a harsh soil sapped of nutrients and fertility. If Earth is the embodiment of life and prosperity then this land is its opposite. No sounds can be heard in this land except the violent roars of chaos that brew within the sky. A crimson swirl made of all things malicious. Anger, sadness, jealousy, lust, and pain are only a handful of the emotions embodied by the awesome tempest. Alone in this land lies a crying child in a basket, screaming for any form of nutriment and peace from the storm. The basket, woven with a dark rosewood, has the reminiscence of a flame that can be seen charred to one side. The Blanket, a pure white cloth tucked neatly around the child to keep it secure and warm. The child, screaming but unheard over the deafening voice of the sky. The wind seems to be too much for the child's weight as it and the basket are suddenly sent skyward by the chaos. Fate, however, seems to bless the child as the basket catches the branch of a lone tree. The Tree, a blessing within this land, moans and creaks as the winds blow with all its might causing it to contort in an unnatural way. All of this, only a soft whisper in the storm.
A sudden sound of a battle-horn and approaching cries awaken a soldier sitting against an old tree.The armor he wore, soaked in blood both dried and fresh, was steel plating embedded in hard leather, fastened with leather straps and steel buckles. A gold medallion, flickering in the setting sunlight, pressed with a dragon eating a ruby stone, clenched in his right hand; proof he was a warrior of the Eastern Congregate. How long was he asleep? What was that dream about? All questions he had were suddenly halted when he looked down to see his left arm was gone; cut clean through and wrapped in a blood-soaked linen cloth. The man began to feel nauseous and leaned to his right to spew his last meal. As he was retching a hand slapped his shoulder and gripped it tightly. The soldier quickly pulled out his dagger with his only hand, the blade now pressed against the soft flesh of his opposition’s neck.
“Ethan!?” The man’s voice was fuzzy to Ethan and hard to understand. The sound of blood pumping in his body was the only thing Ethan could clearly hear, though he recognized his face.
“Nathanael… “
“Ethan come on we are going to be late for school!” A young Nathanael tried to shake his sleeping friend. “If Mrs. Gretta sees you’re still asleep she will kill us!”
‘ “I’m up I’m up” Ethan squints as the sunlight pierces his eyes from the curtains. In The Gretta Foster Estate all children slept in cots packed in close to one another to conserve space. Nathanael’s cot just so happened to be next to Ethan’s so they became friends pretty quick. Despite how much all the children complained about the lack of living space and privacy, Mrs. Gretta always insisted that she couldn’t afford to let them have more rooms because of her ‘lack of trust in their sense of responsibility.’ Ethan knew she just didn’t want to dig into the fortune she was making off all the children she held within the estate. However, he could remember the first day he met Nathanael; a group of the older kids were bullying him for the fact he came from a richer family compared to the rest of the kids attending. Ethan was never bothered by things like that. As far as he was concerned Nathanael was his own person. He rolls off the bed begrudgingly and begins to get dressed and ready.
Both the boys were reprimanded quickly as they entered the class tardy. Their punishment was bathroom duty for a month. Some of the boys who found this duo distasteful tended to leave extra surprises for the boys. It seemed one day a gang of them got together to smear their feces across the walls, making sure to prepare a message for them.
“This is bullshit…I’m tired of this!” Nathanael slams the shit stained rag into a bucket filled with murky brown and green water. “All the guys hate me for no reason, and you still stick with me even though they hate you now too. Why?” He looks over to Ethan who’s continuing to clean the wall.
“Probably is gay for you, you spoiled little shit.” While they were cleaning two older kids, by a few years, snuck into the bathroom. One smaller the other bigger, but both towered over the young boys. “Aww what didn't you like our message? We made it just for you two miserable demon spawn. Chandler I don’t think they liked it.” The obvious alpha out of the two looks over to his overgrown partner. Chandler was built like a carriage, and it seems the other was the horse pulling him along. How this kid was this size and only a few years older than them was beyond Ethan.
“Hehe..let’s squash them squash them.” The big child begins to giggle and clap excitedly. Chandler’s size was definitely compensating for the brain, and his buddy vice versa. Before Ethan could even react he was already being pinned down into the shit and piss ridden floor by the surprisingly strong hands of Chandler. He tries to struggle, but the sudden force of a kick to his ribs causes Ethan to writhe in pain and gasp for his breath. “Kick him again Conor kick him again.” The sadistic man-child giggled with joy as he watched Ethan begin to cry from the pain.
“Stop it!!” Nathanael goes to jump onto Chandler, but is quickly grabbed by Conor. A swift blow to the stomach lands on Nathanael causing him to lose his lunch and double over. Nathanael, now being dragged to the bucket. Ethan, barely able to breath and when he does it takes everything in him not to let up his stomach as well. Both boys, powerless compared to their older counterparts. “Let me g-” Nathanael’s head is quickly shoved into the bucket, unable to break the grip Conor has on the back of his neck.
“Nathanael…How long was I?” Ethans throat is dry and it’s hard for him to speak. His voice comes out in a raspy wisp as he sheaths his blade and tries to stand feably.
“No time for that. Can you move?” Nathanael’s armor was different from Ethan’s, but he had the same medallion shaped into his chest piece. His armor was made of steel, but you wouldn’t guess that from the soote he was covered in. Nathanael grips under Ethan’s arm to support him as he stands.
“I’m standing right?” Ethan says bluntly and emotionlessly, though he grimaces a bit as he moves. In any other circumstance Ethan would deny this help, but in his position right now he has no choice. “Why didn’t you just leave me for dead like the rest did?” His eyes look over to Nathanael who then begins to laugh. “You think this is funny?” A scorn forming on his face.
“This situation, hardly, however I do find it amusing you’d think I’d leave a colleague so easily.” A soft smile formed on his face as he looked back at Ethan.
“Heh…Well I guess I owe you one then, but I’m afraid I won’t be much use in a fight.” The screams and cries of young warrior men are heard throughout the hills, only being muffled by the thick forest that enclosed the opening. In between the hills was a small river that served as the epicenter of the battle; two sides, both men. The Eastern Congregate has been at war with the Shin Tribes for over 5 years now, and neither side has seemed to give yet. Ethan recalls the past few years of his life being filled with bloodshed. So many men dead, families ripped apart, and, if he were to survive this, his cheating death. The two young men started away from the battle, but Ethan couldn’t shake this feeling of dread he had as he looked where his arm should have been.
“You probably won’t ever fight again. I did the best I could Ethan, but a soldier without an arm on the battlefield is just extra weight. I’m sorry…” A look of sadness came across Nathanael’s face as he also looked at Ethans wound. “I guess this is just your fate, but we all must face our destiny some day.” A silence fell on the two for a moment as they walked, nothing but fleeting thoughts waiting to be conveyed. The air was thick and a light fog glazed over the land as they traversed the thick woodscape. “It won’t be too long before we reach our camp.” Nathanael says as he keeps his eyes forward, focused on the task at hand.
“Yeah…Can’t wait.” Ethan says sarcastically as he eyes his wound. He tries to remember how this could have happened to him, but it’s all foggy. The only remembrance he had was the phantom pains that plagued him. His mind began to flood with blame upon himself for not being a better warrior, and the shame was almost unbearable. The phantom pains were nothing compared to the scars on his honor, but he kept the same stern look of determination. His eyes trail to Nathanael as he thinks of what was said. ‘Never fight again huh? We’ll see…’
Suddenly the air falls still on the land, trees, wind, and other life seem to stop in time and fall silent. The sound of blood pumping, again, the only thing filling the auditory void. A slight rustle in a nearby bush, the quick gleaming reflection of sun off metal, and the whistling sound of the wind. A sudden force pushes Ethan off his feet, sending him rolling onto his wounded arm. The pain was excruciating, but this did not stop him from quickly recovering to his feet. His gaze locks on to Nathanael who seems to have been stabbed by a thick metal throwing dagger in between his forearm and bicep. Blood dripped and leaked from Nathanael’s arm covering the dagger.
“Shit…” Nathanael clenches his jaw and groans in pain as he rips the blade from his body, quickly bandaging the wound with a ripped piece of his shirt. “Show yourself coward!!” Nathanael’s voice filled with rage as he unsheathed his blade.
“This was my father’s.” A young, but slightly older, Nathanael had promised to show Ethan a secret of his since the boys had begun to grow closer to one another. Nathanael quickly pulls out a dirty stained linen sack tied at the end with hemp rope. “I always told Mrs. Gretta this was just an old umbrella my mom gave me before she died.” Nathanael laughed a bit as he untied the sack and pulled out a magnificent blade. His blade, A falchion fitted with a black dragon hilt and menacing ruby eyes, spewing flames out that acted as the crossguard.
“What’s that?” Ethan points to an etching on the side of the blade.
“I don’t know. Never got the chance to ask my dad honestly.” The etchings seemed to be some strange symbols or letters that neither could understand. Nathanael tries to pick the blade up proper, but the weight is too much for his yet to be developed arms. “Gah! It’s so heavy I don’t know how anyone could swing this thing, let alone with one arm. Here you try.” Nathanael tosses the blade over to Ethan. The blade smacks his chest, and Ethan loses some air from the force.
“Hey, watch it!!” an agitated look forming on Ethan’s face, but this only causes Nathanael to laugh. Ignoring him, Ethan now looks down to the blade to see himself within the metal.
“It’s fantastic isn’t it?” Nathanael’s reflection, now seen behind Ethan’s. “I can’t wait for the day when I finally get to use it.”
