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 Posted: Tue Nov 25, 2014 6:14 pm
I N T R O D U C T I O N x S O L O
Clips of the Past and Straight On Til Morning "Your name. Once more."
The young lad soothed his palms across his backside, bright purple and still stinging from the aftermath of his last three lashes. "Werymn," he hissed out for the third consecutive time, earning him a reprieve from more strikes.
"And?"
Werymn's golden gaze scraped over the dark-skinned Oban. He wasn't any larger and didn't seem to be any more intelligent than anyone from his own race. But still he felt entitled to wield a belt against a young, foreign Water boy, and deserving of the title 'Master.' Wer's first set of lashes came from his unwillingness to surrender the name his mother had given him. Three quick slaps had him realizing he didn't care that much what anyone called him.
Any consecutive strikes stemmed from nothing more than childish pride. His response to the Oban's prompts to hear the word 'master' had been quick, thoughtless 'huh?'s or adamantly repeated 'what?'s. But after feeling the biting sting of leather smacking against his lower back nine times and no sign that the Oban would grow tired of the game, he settled on a new answer.
"Sir."
Wer couldn't stifle a whimper as the Oban's hand locked around his forearm, yanking him so that he was facing the wall once more. The Water lad shouldn't have been surprised, seeing as he still neglected to say what the man actually wanted to hear. Didn't mean he was enthused about being spanked, though. He perched on the balls of his feet, leaning into the wall (away from the older male) as every muscle in his body tensed, his breath caught, his lids snapped shut, and his fingers clenched into fists. He waited.
But felt nothing. Heard nothing. Warily, he cracked a golden eye open to peer over his shoulder. The Oban scrutinized him, contemplatively tapping a finger against his arm as he stared at the child's bruising backside. "It's fine," he finally decided in a grunt. Wer proceeded to morph into jelly with the very sudden evaporation of pent-up tension, and the wall became a source of support rather than a sign of impending doom.
'Sir.' It wasn't as pride-diminishing as 'master' from where Wer stood. But it was still respectful. The Oban was his elder, if not his better. It was a compromise they were both willing to make, much to the Water boy's relief.
After a moment, Werymn righted himself, unable to suppress a smile at his accomplishment. The previous lashes were completely worth it. The Oban's beckoning hand drew him forward, and he stepped toward the motion with a bit of a saunter. "Come. You will introduce yourself to the family."
~~~
"Can't I play too?" Werymn pleaded as his golden gaze trailed longingly after the two eldest sons, Oridan and Laric, as they scrambled across the dirt, playfully attacking each other with sticks. He'd played similarly with his own brothers back in Matori, but for now, he was stuck on the porch, feeding tiny shredded scraps of meat to the youngest daughter and dutifully ensuring that she didn't choke herself.
At his side, Eialyn sewed a patch onto one Laric's holey garments, carefully watching everything around her with practiced ease. At the lad's question, the old Water woman paused in her stitching, lifting her gaze from the swatch of fabric to stare at her young charge. "Finish feeding Neora," she instructed. "You may ask if they want to play with you. If they don't, you won't throw a fuss."
Not particularly heartwarming, but enough to make Werymn beam at the prospect. While he delighted in Neora's company, she wasn't much of a talker, and (being only two) not up to the more rough-and-tumble play to be expected of boys. He finished feeding her a little more hastily than Eialyn would've liked before he trotted out to meet the two lads.
Oridan took note of his approach first. The oldest son quirked a brow at him, expectantly waiting for Werymn to articulate his reason for joining them away from the house. Ori took his role of eldest and heir very seriously. He was protective of his siblings, reasonable with matters concerning his home, and for the most part, thoughtful and deliberate, despite his age.
He could still be a brat.
"Father said you weren't to leave Eia's side until you were capable of handling all her duties on your own."
Werymn glanced back at the elder woman. "She's just over there," he replied. "Not so far that I can't hear her call if she needs anything. And if I just want to play for a minute, what's so bad about that?"
Ori opened his mouth to reply, but Laric beat him to it. "We should let him play with us!" Laric was the younger of the two, about the same age as Werymn. He was certainly the louder, bolder of the two boys, and also the meaner. He'd had plenty of jabs at Werymn since they'd first met and now he always seemed to greet him with a 'friendly' yank to his hair. But not this time.
Werymn hid his outer suspicion. He wanted, with an almost desperate need, to join the two boys in their tussle. If that meant braving Laric's attempts to get him into trouble, then so be it.
They outfitted him with a stick, and several minutes later found the three of them much more at ease, taking swats at each other in turn. They were a little less reserved where Wer was concerned, he noted as the two boys violently swung at him, landing a few good hits that he wasn't entirely prepared to complain about, for fear that he'd be evicted from the game.
But when Werymn struck out with the pleasantly deafening 'crack!' of two sticks meeting head-on, Laric screeched. The sound made Wer drop his weapon instantly as he stared wide-eyed at the other lad doubled over and clutching at his hand. "Are you-" he started out in concern, before Oridan grabbed the back of his shirt and ripped him away.
"You hurt my little brother! How dare you! You shouldn't be so rough!"
"I didn't!" Wer argued, suddenly dumbfounded. "I saw- I heard-" The sticks had definitely clashed. He hadn't felt fingers be jammed or heard a burst of muted surprise before the scream. He knew-
In that span of time, Xaraan, the boys' father, had stormed out of the house. Wer didn't have much chance to explain himself as the larger male roughly grabbed him by the arm and yanked him away. All he caught was the fleeting glimpse of Laric's white teeth poised in a quirky grin at him as Wer was dragged away.
~~~
For three years Werymn clung to that event. He'd been sore for days afterward, enough so that greeting Laric with a warm smile, as he was supposed to, had been more of a challenge than he was willing to take on. But the frustration passed, replaced instead by a steady and burning desire to get even. What type of person enjoyed watching someone else be hurt? Certainly not one that was going to be well-adapted to society, as was Werymn's and Eialyn's duty to ensure.
Of course, Werymn knew he could never teach Laric a proper lesson from under the watchful eye of the female servant. But she was old, and time did not pause for her.
By the time Wer was eleven she had passed. Her duties became his. Anything she'd done for the family was now his duty to manage alone. Cleaning, washing, sewing, tidying, babysitting, and cooking.
Werymn was not unintelligent. He had no proper schooling, but that didn't mean he was a complete idiot. He learned in other ways. He knew that if anyone took ill the very night of Eialyn's passing, he'd be blamed. He knew that if anyone took ill even remotely recently after her departure, it would be his fault, and he'd probably be punished for negligence.
So, he continued to wait. He cared for all of the family, Laric included, with a sense of undying loyalty. Truth be told, he didn't want any of them to be permanently injured or traumatizingly harmed. He just wanted Laric to see (as he had yet to) that it was rude to enjoy the suffering of others and even worse to cause it for his own enjoyment. And when the young man caught a fever, nothing serious - minor headaches and muscle soreness, Werymn decided he'd waited long enough.
Basadivri root was an herb meant to help the body purge itself of poison. Which was useful in theory, except it did so by inducing the afflicted to vomit up anything they'd eaten and anything they'd try to eat for several hours. The family kept it on hand, just in case Eialyn or Werymn ever got the urge to kill off their masters with something toxic.
Werymn didn't want Laric dead. He just wanted him to learn.
So after grinding a tiny sliver of root into a fine, tasteless powder, he sprinkled just a few flakes over the top of the young man's food, and he watched, from the sidelines as always, as Laric ate his breakfast.
Within mere minutes, the boy was retching into a wastebasket and whining that his fever was getting worse, how he couldn't complete his studies today and demanding to know why Werymn had let this happen to him. The Water boy relayed his message to his parents and was rewarded (to his delight) with overseeing Laric's recovery. It was just a fever, after all. No need for a healer just yet.
Laric glared at him as Wer re-entered the other lad's room. Unfortunately, the look was cut short as he was forced to double over the edge of his bed and heave into the bucket placed at the side.
The amount of satisfaction Werymn felt as he stepped forward to soothe the Oban child should've been disturbing. But it wasn't. He delighted in his accomplishment as he ran cool fingers across the back of Laric's neck. He reveled in the burn of Laric's skin and the tiny, unrestrained whimpers that slipped from him in his agony.
But he couldn't show it. Not now. Wer kept himself composed as he leaned down, lips dusting over damp hair as he, almost apologetically, kissed the crown of the Oban's head. "The gods are punishing you, Laric, for your cruelty." he whispered softly.
And he left it at that.
Laric didn't respond to him, but he didn't need to. Werymn took solace in knowing he'd already planted the seed. Planted the seed that slowly blossomed for the next two days. Two. Days. that Werymn carefully sneaked crumbles of root into the boy's dwindling food portions. Two days that Laric became increasingly more pitiful and exhausted. Two days where his parents' concern threatened to ruin everything if they chose to summon an actual healer. Two days that had Werymn completely wound up in suspense and delight and excitement as he dutifully cleaned any of Laric's messes, wiped the sweat from his head and changed his sheets.
And on the third day, Laric had shifted to the floor, finding it easier to manage than the heavy coverlet of his bed. He'd turned into little more than a pile of misery. His bones ached from the constantly forced tightening of dry-heaving up absolutely nothing. He hadn't slept since that first morning, and he was plagued by what Werymn had said.
When the slave moved to crouch at Laric's side, arms tangled about him. One latched to his wrist while the other fisted in the fabric at the front of his shirt. "Please," Laric begged, looking up at him through exhaustion-darkened eyes. "Please. I can't- Can't do this. I- I'm sorry."
And that was all Werymn had ever wanted. He smiled softly, settling onto the floor and collecting Laric to his side, gingerly settling the smaller Oban lad so that his head rested against Wer's thigh. "I forgive you," Werymn purred silkily.
If Laric found the immediate correlation between Wer's forgiveness and his sudden ability to keep food down strange, he didn't see fit to report it to anyone.
~~~
Werymn had learned fairly quickly that he wasn't fond of most Obans. His family, of course, was special. Diaeni, Laric, Neora, and Oridan were all precious bundles, to be harmed by nothing except for himself (and even then, only if he deemed it completely necessary). No one else should be permitted to touch them. No one else should be permitted to make fun of them or harp at them or spit derogatory comments out at them, and no one should be so stupid as to think they could get away with it while in his presence.
His fist collided with surprising intensity into the stomach of an Oban lad a few inches taller than himself. The boy's eyes bulged from his head, and he howled in surprise as he dropped to the ground. Werymn hovered over him, golden eyes glinting with annoyance and malicious intent as his shadow reached out like dark tendrils to cloak the opposing lad. "If you ever so much as step near my little girl again, you'll suffer far more than a bruised abdomen and stomped ego." His voice was low, dark, a tone he probably shouldn't be taking to an Oban.
But he did, because only moments before this particular creature had offended his sensibilities. Wer glanced back to Neora, the young girl that was currently his charge. She was not a slender child, and she probably never would be. She enjoyed her sweets, and had been gifted with a few coins to snag a pastry or two from the small bake shop due to her efforts in her studies. Werymn was to be her escort, considering her young age.
But they'd met one of her school mates and his older brother along the way. The younger one was a twiggy, sneering child, and the elder brother was a smug, leering teen, perhaps a year or two older than Werymn. They'd had their fun at Neora's expense while Wer tried his best to ignore them and keep her spirits up, but when the older boy thought he could snatch her treats from her hand, things had taken a turn for the worse, and the Oban boy had found himself floored by Werymn's hands.
Something the other street-goers found offense to. They rumbled out dissent, hissed obscenities at him, and a few scurried to find someone to see to righting this injustice. Probably at Werymn's physical expense.
"My f-father will here of this," the older brother yipped from his place on the ground as he back-peddled through the dirt like an awkward crab. "You'll be lucky if you aren't executed for this t-treachery!"
While Werymn did believe that, he couldn't show his trepidation now. Especially not this runt. With a scoff, he tipped his head down to glower at the lad. "I'm merely a servant protecting his master. And I will continue to protect her. Best keep your hands off."
From behind him, Neora bristled. Her pudgy fingers drove into the cloth at the small of his back and she tugged on the Water boy with all the force she could muster. If Wer couldn't show negativity, she could, and she was scared. Her round red eyes portrayed that enough. She couldn't care less what the other kids said to her, but they threatened her only servant. Threats they could probably follow through with if she didn't get him away... "Let's go, Werymn. We have to find Mother...!" Neora pleaded.
There were enough people in the streets that they could slip away with relative ease, off to a shop where Oridan and Laric were being fitted for new clothes beneath their mother's watchful eye. Neora flung herself at the woman, desperately clinging to one of Werymn's arms as she explained what happened. She painstakingly emphasized her the Water lad had done best by her; he wasn't in the wrong, and she was grateful for what he'd done.
"Even so..." Salena murmured as her gaze scraped across Wer's frame. "They'll want some kind of compensation. I imagine if Xaraan has to pay them, he won't be particularly thrilled. And no one that witnessed it will actually want him roaming the streets..."
Neora whined. "I just don't want him to die."
Oridan grimaced as he smoothed a piece of fabric down across his chest. "You think Father will want- have to punish him publicly." If anyone heard Wer's dissatisfied huff, they ignored it. "But I just don't think-"
"I can't allow that," Laric interjected in a fuss. "Wer didn't do anything wrong! It's the ones that attacked Neo that need to be punished! So if they really wanna go, I'll give 'em something to gripe about."
From the corner of his eye, Werymn inspected the younger lad with a sidelong glance. Laric hadn't been quite the same after taking 'ill.' He was still quite rambunctious, but he'd developed a sense of loyalty that Wer couldn't even begin to fault. He was defensive of his mother, his father, his siblings. But he was particularly passionate where Werymn was concerned.
Something bigger had changed in him over those few nights and in the time since then. For a while, Wer chose to believe that he was imagining it. But he wasn't. He couldn't be. Laric was gentler, more forgiving towards him. Maybe even more toward him than his own siblings.
One night after nearly losing a very young Neora in the crowd along the street (she'd been retrieved by an elderly woman and brought back home) and subsequently suffering a particularly bruising punishment (which Wer reluctantly supposed he deserved), Laric saw fit to join him. Once upon a time, the lad would've gotten a good chuckle from the events, but this night saw him quiet and thoughtful as he offered to rub a cool, soothing salve down his slave's back. Wer allowed it, though he had his reservations. And his curiosity. After the two sat in silence for several minutes, Werymn mustered the ability to inquire about the nature of his companion's presence. Laric had looked down at him, dark mahogany orbs glimmering in the faint light, and whispered, "I have to protect those who care for me, whatever their status."
As it was, he still held the words true, and when Xaraan heard of the day's events in the marketplace, and how Wer had struck one of his betters, Laric defended him. Neora defended him. Oridan defended him.
And the boys hadn't even been there.
Wer escaped punishment that day, much to the frustration of Neora's attackers. He'd have been fine, either way, he was sure. In any event, Laric seemed particularly pleased with his efforts. And some force compelled Wer to thank him. More so than the other young ones. And perhaps with a little more fervor. There was probably some way to achieve such a thing that would properly express his gratitude.
~~~
The day was a long time in coming. Years that Werymn had time to consider what he could do for Laric to show him how much he meant. At first he'd thought the bumbling, fleeting kisses they shared when no one was looking was good enough. But Laric could probably get that from anyone, if he so chose. But as a slave, what could he really give him that he couldn't obtain for himself?
Probably nothing.
But as a free man, he'd be able to find something. Even if it meant leaving, he'd be able to find something.
The news of the Obans' defeat in Tale had come quickly after the battle. Many people were upset. Xaraan in particular wasn't thrilled with Werymn's new status change, despite the fact that, for a while, his daily routine went unaltered.
Wer had nowhere to go and nothing to do. He lost nothing by remaining a servant. He slept in the same pallet of blankets on the floor, continued to do the same chores, still called the Obans 'sir' and 'ma'am.' The only difference was the threat of a beating wasn't hanging over his head.
Despite this, Werymn and Laric continued any of their more personal exchanges in private. Laric was still Xaraan's son, and the elder man would not taking kindly to one of his children kissing a Water boy, but the two younger lads hardly saw any harm in it, considering plenty of the girls in Laric's classes kissed boys. They weren't doing any worse than that.
But on the eve of Werymn's fourteenth year, he decided something; maybe they could be more, once they were older. he was free now, an equal to them, so if he wanted to be more to Laric... If Laric wanted to be more to him... the only one he really needed to prove anything to... was his companion. "I have to go," he whispered as he sat perched on the edge of Laric's bed.
It was early morning, very early morning. The sun hadn't even made its way into the sky, yet. But Werymn had thought long and hard about what he was going to do. He'd thought about it for weeks. Just the day before, he'd thanked Salena for her patience and hospitality. He'd commended her on her graciousness, her fairness, her patience with him. Her cheeks had darkened and her eyes watered. She'd cried when Eialyn had passed too. But she needed to be strong. He'd begged her not tell tell Laric until late in the morning, when he'd already be gone. And he gave her a letter to pass to him when she saw fit. She could be trusted to deliver such a thing.
But now, Laric slept, and Werymn, outfitted in the little traveling garb he had and carrying a small bag of his belongings, watched his companion. "I have to do this," he diligently recited the words from his letter. "There's something out there I have to find. I don't know what or where it is, but I need it. Once I have it, I'll be back. Please wait for me. Please. You're precious to me, and I want to be someone that you can be with, someone that you love.
Laric, I love you. And when I return, I'll have something to show for it.
I love you.
I love you..." The words fell from his lips, and Laric slept on. Slowly, Wer rose. He moved to the head of the bed, let his fingers brush through coarse dark brown hair, and when he knew he couldn't stay any longer, Wer leaned down to brush his lips against his companion's.
He needed to leave. He had to, but he would return. He would return with something that would show Laric how much he meant to Werymn, how precious he truly was, without a doubt.x
x
Results: Wer reveals a little of his past and his motives for the future.
Word Count: 3825
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Posted: Thu Dec 04, 2014 11:05 am
C L A S S x A F I N I T Y x S O L O
Treasure of Neither Silver Nor Gold Werymn groaned in annoyance as he glowered down at a slip of parchment strewn with strange symbolic drawings. Oridan had once informed him that 'maps' were drawn to guide and lead people to a new destination, that if you were looking for something, a map was a most useful tool. This one, however, was not doing a splendid job. In fact, Wer doubted that any map shoved in his face would guide him anywhere. The pictures just looked like squiggles, and the words... well, he didn't know what the words said, considering that he couldn't read well.
Fortunately, he'd managed to bumble his way through the Oban streets until he stumbled upon a small caravan of other freed slaves. The group consisted of ten to twenty Water Earthlings, all headed toward the Juahar border and someplace where they could live without fear of violent Oban masters.
While Werymn did not share their fears, Salena had told him that the grandest treasures lay beyond Oban borders. She'd even given him this blasted map that he couldn't read. He took her willingness to help him as a blessing, and he set out in high spirits in search of something he could offer Laric to show the depth of his affection for the other male.
Unfortunately, his spirits were slightly less high now. Wer didn't know where he was going or what he was doing, and the map held few answers. None of his traveling companions seemed to know much about where they were headed, except for the fact that the last battle had taken place there. They assumed that the rest of Tendaji would be welcoming to their plight, but Werymn wasn't so sure. He supposed he'd simply have to wait and see.
~~~
Just a few days' travel led the small (yet still growing) band to Neued, a bustling town entrenched within Juahar's expansive array of trees. It was beautiful and yet completely terrifying. But with so many people from so many different walks of life (where they really that many different races in Tendaji?), surely someone would know of something for him to chase. Surely someone could give him some kind of clue or knew of something that held a particular amount of significance.
It took Werymn several days to acclimate to the new terrain. He became immensely grateful that his clothes were suited to heat. Even more so that unlike many of his fellow servants, his family had seen fit to outfit him with shoes, which were particularly useful when maneuvering over gnarled roots or sifting hesitantly across the moist ground. Juahar seemed like a particularly dank, filthy place... But Wer told himself he just wasn't used to it, yet. It would grow on him, surely.
And sooner or later he'd actually be able to ascend the trees, where much of the commotion happened.
Until then, he was stuck on the ground, mingling with everyone else who wasn't quite prepared to trust the thick limbs with their lives. He helped where he was able; cooking for youngsters, stitching torn garments, dabbing salve on those who sustained injuries. He would've liked to help with some of the heavier lifting necessary for rebuilding, but it quickly became apparent to all in his presence that he wasn't suited for much physical labor.
Nearly a week after his arrival, Werymn lingered in one of the shacks set up beneath the broad expanse of greenery. The were a few others with him: a couple Shifters, several Obans, and an older Ice male, all waiting to be served some type of potent-smelling liquid that Wer was unfamiliar with. The woman that owned the little shack-pub was rather aged in Wer's opinion, and he'd offered to help out her business in return for letting him stay under her roof. She'd agreed with an appreciative pat of his head and a quiet tutting.
The Shifter woman was far more lenient than his previous masters had been, and Wer appreciated the constant hum of voices around himself as he wove between benches, pouring pungent liquid into cups.
"Aren't you tired of being a servant, boy?" The Ice man grunted as Wer moved to top off his mug.
With a soft chuckle, Werymn replied with, "There's no sense in me sitting around being useless. I'm not yet adapted to life outside of servitude, so I can't really help it if I slip back into old ways."
The man snorted, and a lock of dark blue hair dripped across his forehead. "Doesn't sound much like you're grateful for your freedom."
Wer rolled his shoulders in a nonchalant shrug, tipping his head to the side as he grinned. "My life wasn't particularly hard. I even had things I enjoyed. That's not to say I didn't endure harsher treatment when I deserved it, but-"
"When you deserved it?"
"Everyone makes mistakes. Pain is an excellent tutor. I try not to repeat my blunders."
"Yer a right weird kid. I've spoken to several who would seek revenge on their masters. Not you, hm?"
Werymn hummed in amusement, his lids fluttering to half-mast as a coy grin spread across his lips. "My revenge will be sweeter than anything I could inflict with pain or death. When I have my way, I expect my former master will endure the rest of his life knowing that I took something more precious than his life away."
The man's brows rose as he took a swig from his mug. "Sounds like ye got a lot of faith in this plan. And expect a lot of what yer old master values."
"Values..." Werymn scoffed. "I settle for nothing less than his pride. Can you imagine an Oban's- no, a father's face when his son is wed to someone so far beneath them that he was previously a slave? That is what I want."
"Yer a long way from that goal, if you're way out here."
Wer's brow creased, and he jolted a bit in surprise. "Well, I... I need something, first... Something to show Laric- the son- that he really is important. I never would've obtained something like that if I'd stayed in Oba. But I don't really know where to go from here, either."
"Not a very thought-out plan."
"My resources were limited!"
The man snorted, rolled his eyes, then fell quiet for several moments as he chugged down the rest of his drink. Once he was finished, he stared at the face of the younger lad who stood unwaveringly, almost proudly before him with an unfulfilled purpose. A former slave wanting more. "I'm just an old man," he grunted out. "But when I was a young lad, I scoured for something precious too. There's a tale that says the caves of Zena hold a secret. That long ago, a band of Ice Tribesmen hid their treasures away so as not to be stolen by invaders. Dunno if it's true. never found nothing in all my years. But the treasure... It's said to be better than silver and gold. Dunno if that's anything you're interested in, but if it sounds like enough to woo your bonny lad, maybe give it a try. Better than being a servant here, I would think."
The man departed, and Wer was left to finish the day's work with thoughts of 'better than silver and gold' buzzing in his head. he had no idea what the treasure actually was, and Zena was countries away. But better than silver and gold. Something no one else could offer Laric...
Tempting.
And his other leads were slim. It was the only thing he could shoot for right now. So he would. If something more practical came up along the way, it wasn't as if he was obligated to see this through to the end. He could easily switch tactics. But for now... Zena. Treasure. Leaving a life of servitude behind for better than silver and gold.
Sounded worth it.x
x
Results: Chooses the Treasure Hunter path.
Word Count: 1322
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Posted: Tue Dec 16, 2014 12:20 pm
P R P x R E F L E C T I O NAs All Adventures Start So... here it begins.
I've found a man willing to serve as my guard through the trials ahead. I've yet to see if this partnership will be beneficial to me, but... I can't not be protected through lands I've never traveled and know nothing about. And I certainly don't want to go alone, in any case... He is originally from Matori, like myself, so hopefully there's at least some sort of feeling of kinship here, if nothing else... Dovev is sensible enough, so surely he won't be an issue.
There are so many feelings; excitement, anxiety, fear, a bit of thrill. I don't know what lies ahead. Or if the outcome will be good or bad, but I'm in it now. In it for the long haul. I expect the journey will be long and the tasks many, and I can only hope I find something worthwhile. Or at least die a quick death, if that's what it comes to. Maybe if I come up empty-handed, Laric will accept Dovev as a paid servant in return for his hand.
...
I doubt either of them would be thrilled by that, but no reason not to have a backup plan. And yet... I'm just getting started. So I've no time for thoughts like that. Must keep looking forward. Must be positive.Results: Met Dovev.
PRP Posts: 11
JR Word Count: 219
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Posted: Tue Feb 10, 2015 6:44 am
P R P x R E F L E C T I O NRain Isn't the Only Problem I hate this land.
I hate the trees. I hate the people... I hate traveling. I hate putting forth this much effort and seeming to get so little in return. I'm scared that what I'm doing will be for nothing. For all I really know, there could be jack-squat in Zena. It could all be a ploy against a poor, little slave boy. If I do return empty-handed, Laric will surely hate me proper... I would've separated us for no apparent reason. I'll have nothing to show but scars from the time we spent apart, and he...
I wouldn't blame him, if he did. I wouldn't blame him if he found someone else in the weeks (months?) we've already been away from each other. For all our time together, he is still a selfish, proud Oban, after all. I cannot change that. But he is wonderful, protective, loyal... Mine... For a time.
All this means is... I can't give up yet. Crap, I can't stop... I want to be weak and go crawling back to him and hold him in my arms, but I can't... I've got to press on and hope that however this turns out will be for the best. Dovev is not so good at making me feel better, but at least he's company nonetheless. And Xeeta! Xeeta is here too. For now, that's good enough.Results: Tes is attacked by raiders.
PRP Posts: 7
JR Word Count: 229
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Posted: Wed Feb 25, 2015 7:57 am
W O R L D x E V E N T x R E F L E C T I O NSpring Showers I can't stop thinking about him. I don't suppose that's a bad think, since Laric is the whole reason I'm on this quest, anyway. Still, I don't think I realized how long it would really take or how far away it would bring me. He must still be thinking of me too. Every time I see Xeeta, I know that at the very least, Laric hasn't forgotten me. It's enough for now, but truly all I want to do is make it home...
But the task ahead is still long and will require much of my attention. I can't falter now. Returning with nothing almost seems worse than not returning at all. I'll simply find ways to distract myself until I can hold him again. And sometimes...they'll find me.
After appreciating my fondest wishes of spending time with my beloved, some of Iory's domesticated sailscales came gliding through my window looking for shelter. I'm sure this town has a bunch of these little creatures flying about, so many of the usual residences they occupy must be fairly crowded. At least, I think that may be the case? I'm certainly no expert of sailscales. But they're cute, friendly, probably looking for someone they can chatter to. And here I am, just sitting and waiting for Dovev to return! So of course we'll make the perfect companions for each other this time around. Maybe a little less so when my guard returns, but I'll cross that bridge when we come to it.
For now: sailscale companions!Results: +1 Versatile Point; Werymn and Dovev make it to Sauti.
Word Count: 777
JR Word Count: 255
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Posted: Mon Apr 27, 2015 9:47 am
C L A S S x Q U E S T x R E F L E C T I O NClass Quest 1 More happened on this day than I imagined would. While originally, I'd only planned to read my letter and continue my travels, the fates had another plan in mind. Instead, I spent the better portion of my day hunting for and then later trying to please some woman. I apparently stole something of value to her, and she retaliated by doing the same to me. While we didn't start on friendly terms, we seemed to end... better off?
The whole mess was a little confusing to me. I apparently don't fully understand the concept of 'love' (and she thinks she does), so this peculiar Wind woman tried to impart a lesson on me by humiliating me. I admit I... couldn't have imagined all that Laric wrote to me. Much of it was babbling, and some of it was... heated, and still more was informative.
When I was first sold, one of the few things I wanted to keep was my name. I remember that from so long ago. I remember being stubborn, and I remember being beaten for it. Along the way I've forgotten it, though... Laric gave it back to me. And somehow I am to believe that I owe him nothing? Nothing except very intangible 'love?' I've never felt unworthy of something I actually wanted, but I do now.
The woman and I talked for a while after that. I don't know if she fully understands, but we parted better than we met.Results: Class Quest passed; he learns his name is 'Teslaron.'
Word Count: 2798
JR Word Count: 245
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Posted: Tue Jun 09, 2015 3:06 pm
P R P x R E F L E C T I O NIt's Cold Outside TES' THOUGHTSResults: ???
PRP Posts: ???
JR Word Count: ???
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Posted: Thu Aug 06, 2015 2:08 pm
P R P x R E F L E C T I O NThe Good Stuff The shopkeepers of Sauti are certainly... brusque. My first attempts to fairly and honestly obtain supplies from the village were thwarted my foul moods. I, of course, did nothing wrong and wasn't being unreasonable. But the lady vendor I was dealing with saw it another way. She became irrationally offended and threw me out. If it weren't for the young hybrid I met, I likely would've turned to slightly less savory means of obtaining goods. Either way is fine by me.
I haven't had a great many interactions with hybrids before. I've seen them on the streets in Oba, and even here, now, it seems like a great deal of them flock about, traveling wherever they think they can be useful. I imagine many of them came to Sauti during the Alkidike's last bout for power and haven't quite managed to leave, yet. Whatever her reason for being here, the girl offered to take me to a more reliable source of supplies.
And reliable it was. It was a short enough walk, though not where I expected to look, and the price was much lower than I'd anticipated, as well... She was obviously fairly close to the merchant, though I'm still not sure how. Must surely be some sort of relative, though maybe not by blood. In any event, after I obtained supplies for Dovev's injuries, we parted ways. So while we weren't together long, I do believe I made an ally, and that's enough for now. I really should be returning to my partner, though... hopefully he's still doing fine.Results: Met Ming'we and gathered supplies.
PRP Posts: 10
JR Word Count: 261
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Posted: Mon May 16, 2016 6:41 pm
D E V E L O P M E N T A L x S O L O
The Most Important Message In the days and weeks during his time with Dovev, Tes slowly came to the realization that he didn't much care for travel. He'd known as much in Jauhar, but Tale managed to soften the sentiment. Now in Sauti, north Sauti, with temperatures dropping rapidly, the disdain for anywhere but home returned full force. Never once had he claimed to be wholly loyal, but neither did he think it was cheating if he wanted to climb into Dovev's bedroll during the frigid nights.
He was a Water boy, after all, born near the sea and its temperate climate, then raised in the sun and heat and sand. Snow and ice was no place of comfort for him.
Still, they trekked on. It was an easier journey, now that Xeeta was around. Having a beast to carry his bags and himself did make things go more smoothly. It also increased communication between Tes and his beloved, for a xaraan could cover the distance between them in a matter of days. It did mean he didn't have Xeeta's legs for the better part of a week, but it was a sacrifice Teslaron was willing to make, now that he was actually reading his Oban paramour's letters.
Until they stopped. Initially, Tes' concern was only such that Xeeta had been gone too long. A week for travel, perhaps three or four days or however long it took to actually prepare a message to him. Two weeks. Maybe two and a half, if he was feeling generous.
But a month...?
The young Water man started to wonder if maybe his xaraan had been poached. Or maybe his former masters simply reclaimed it as a pet and refused to send it off to him once again. Though Tes doubted Laric would've allowed that. Unfortunately for himself, there was no way of knowing and nothing to be done about it. He continued waiting, traveling on foot with his guard at his side.
They made it to Zena, the site for which Tes planned to find the most wondrous treasure of neither silver nor gold. Something to bring home to his beloved. Something that would infuriate Laric's father to no end when Teslaron asked for his hand.
It wasn't to be. Xeeta returned in the early hours of morning. The sun was just blossoming over the horizon, painting the sky a bright pink with its faraway rays. The earth was dusted with the thinnest coating of frost, a testament to how unsavory the night had been, despite being tucked in layers of blankets, a shared tent, and the fire outside. Tes greeted the world with a grimace and a groan, and then Xeeta was promptly in his face, chirruping noisily and pawing at him with its scrawny arms.
Tes should've been pleased, the morning made him less so, and maybe that was why he acted immediately and irrationally.
He unhooked the scroll case from his xaraan's neck, then took the time to feed and water the exhausted animal before actually making it to the case's contents. He didn't have to open it to know that something was amiss. The paper wasn't Laric's usual. The seal- Laric never used a seal. But it bore the family's insignia. And when he unfurled it, the writing did not belong to his love.
It was Salena's, Laric's mother. He recognized the slant and weave of her script at once, having read plenty of her messy scrawlings of lists for market trips and errands that needed doing. Despite the formality of using a seal, her words were anything but.
'If this reaches you, you ought to know it will do you no good to return here.' Her words sparked a flare of annoyance, but it was soon overshadowed. 'My son has left this world, and as such, there is nothing for you here. I would tell you how and why, but at present, it matters little. All that matters is we scattered his ashes five days past.
I wanted to tell you sooner, so that you might join us at the ceremony, but I couldn't bring myself to put pen to paper, nor admit it to anyone. Please forgive me. It is hard enough as is.
I've thought and rethought over everything you might need to know, anything I might want to say or what he might've said... but it is all irrelevant. If it pleases you, you never need return. However, should you decide that this is your home, whether he is in it or not, you are welcome, of course. The others miss you, and I find myself feeling the same in some instances... Do what pleases you, Teslaron.
I'm sorry there was no better way to inform you.'
There were no endearments, no flourishes. Salena's signature was scratched messily across the bottom, and that was it. Tes' eyes were wide, but his mind was blank. His first thought: impossible. Laric was neither hated nor reckless. He couldn't simply pass on and there be no reason for it. And yet...
Salena was a gentle woman. She'd made peace with her servant after the war ended, and it was because of her demeanor and her children's dependence on him that he'd stayed with his former masters at all. She was trustworthy. And she'd even been encouraging during his departure, and accepting of Tes' thought that he might marry her son.
Maybe too accepting.
His fingers crunched in the paper. Yes. Too accepting. And this was why. She'd planned to be rid of him forever. Bar Laric from writing to him. Make him think his lover was dead. Give him no reason to return. 'Do what pleases you, Teslaron.' Indeed. And if she wasn't lying- Except she was, and that didn't matter.
He acted without thinking. He packed his things quickly, saddled his xaraan, and left. Dovev would understand. And if he didn't, well that wasn't Tes' problem to fix. He needed to go home immediately, confront Salena, see for himself what was actually going on. Laric would be there, and he might- Well, he might be upset that Tes abandoned him and then had the nerve to come home empty-handed, but he didn't exactly have a choice in the matter. Not when Salena wrote such libelous words.
He packed, he mounted, he left. Travel would take only a few short days, if he didn't stop for anything...x
x
Results: Tes receives an unsavory message from home.
Word Count: 1066
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Posted: Mon Sep 26, 2016 12:04 pm
B A T T L E x R E F L E C T I O NDris'rynne vs Teslaron - Oba ...
(N/A - NRP battle)Results: Lost the battle.
Word Count: N/A
JR Word Count: N/A
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Posted: Mon Sep 26, 2016 12:06 pm
H U N T x R E F L E C T I O NHerding Cats TESLARON'S THOUGHTSResults: ???
Word Count: ???
JR Word Count: ???
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Posted: Mon Sep 26, 2016 1:51 pm
D E V E L O P M E N T A L x S O L O
Sunken Ships It was six days before he made it home.
And not because he'd spent an exorbitant amount of time dealing with miscellaneous mishaps that occurred on the road, like grumpy women and hoards of perzi. Though frankly, he should've been pleased that those were the only interesting things that happened. There was still a lingering suspicion that an angry mercenary might try to catch up with him. And that would surely result in something terrible, though Teslaron couldn't say what. Either way, it hadn't happened yet, and wasn't worth worrying over.
Instead, he turned his attention to the familiar entryway of his masters' home. Perhaps nothing had changed. That was a possibility. Salena's letter might've have been a ruse. It probably was, since there really was no way his beloved summer sunbeam was actually deceased.
No one would've thought to tell him if it were true. It was Salena's doing. Trying to incite... something out of Tes, and maybe he'd fallen right into it. But at this point in time, being home was better than not.
He knocked on the door. And waited.
Time might have stretched to infinity, but it only took seconds for Tes to wonder of his family's whereabouts. Maybe they weren't home. They might've gone out. They were at a friend's. On vacation. Visiting a menagerie- The lock clicked. The door creaked. And a pair of dark orange eyes peered at him through the tiny opening. Tes receded back a step immediately in very mild confusion and much sharper concern.
The girl before him had never looked so... sunken, and Teslaron had known her almost her entire life. Her sunshine gaze was dulled, her summer-dusk toned hair flat and lifeless, her posture slumped, her limps dry. Diaeni had never been a tall girl, but it seemed like she'd shrunken in the time he'd been away. It took her several seconds to focus on him. The door creaked wider, and she reached, tangling thin fingers into the front of his shirt and tugging. She stepped as she did, and planted her face to his chest so hard that her words were muffled. "Werymn... You're here."
Her demeanor inspired no great confidence in him, and it was with shaking fingers that he skated his digits through her hair. It had been his nature, of late, to correct people, in regards to his new name. 'Teslaron. Tes, if it's too much.' But he found he couldn't here.
"Dia..."
"I told Mother," she murmured stiffly, refusing to pick her head from its nest. "I told her you wouldn't leave us just like that. But I thought... I just thought you'd be here so much sooner." She sniffled. Her hands crimped in the bottom of his shirt, then, with little other warning, she started sobbing. Her efforts to remain composed were valiant, but even though the sounds were quiet and muffled, the wracked the entirety of her small frame.
He'd wanted confirmation. Something blunt and plain, and he'd meant to ask point-blank, 'Where is Laric?' But it didn't need asking. It was clear enough that any such vocalizations would not be met well, and because of that, the answer was clear.
He wrapped his arms around the young girl and dropped his forehead to rest against the top of her head.x
x
Results: Tes reconvenes with his Oban family.
Word Count: 550
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Posted: Mon Sep 26, 2016 2:16 pm
P R P x R E F L E C T I O NHere Come the Hotsteppers TES' THOUGHTSResults: Met Talisia and sort of bonded with Dris.
PRP Posts: 10
JR Word Count: ???
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Posted: Mon Sep 26, 2016 2:24 pm
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Posted: Mon Sep 26, 2016 2:27 pm
TESLARON'S THOUGHTSResults: +1 RP/Battle credit, +1 Versatile Point; stage two tournament victor.
META Posts: 7
JR Word Count: ???
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