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Crimzon5 -> RE: The Bane of this World | A comedic epic (yeah right!) tale (12/6/2008 9:12:29)
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Chapter 2: Retaliation
The rooster crowed as soon as morning came. Grey got up from his bed which was on the second floor of a two-story building. The floor, made of narra, was thick and varnished. Yet each step would cause the wood to bend slightly and make a sound. Grey’s room had two bookshelves by the window. Each was six feet high and four feet wide. One used to be filled with Elven-language books while the other used to be filled with books written by humans. That was until Grey grew too lazy to return the books to their proper places. It was silent until someone knocked with three taps on his door. Walking drowsily, with each step making an annoying screech-like sound, Grey went to the door, opened it and saw Ashley.
“Hey, Ashley. What’s up?” Grey still seemed to be very sleepy and inactive. As he spoke, he made no eye contact. Actually, his eyes weren't even open.
“You haven’t gotten ready? Drake’s waiting for you!” Ashley's eyes were wide-open in surprise.
Grey yawned. “Well, he did tell us that he’ll meet us today. But what he didn’t say is what time we’re gonna meet with him,” he reasoned.
“Someone giving you a lack of information isn’t an excuse. Use your common sense for once,” scolded Ashley.
“Fine, fine; I’ll get ready,” replied Grey. “Just give me a sec.” He shut the door tight as Ashley, slowly tapping her feet, waited outside his room. From there, she could hear the sound of water flowing from a faucet.
Suddenly, the door burst open as Grey stood there with combed wet hair.
“Don’t tell me that you only wet your hair and put on your field-clothes!” the girl shouted.
“Is that what you expect of me?”
“Umm… to be honest… yes.” The girl smiled sweetly. “So how did you get ready so fast?”
“Umm… never mind. Drake must be waiting for us.” Grey ran as fast as he could towards the hill, almost bumping into caravans and other townsfolk on the way. The village was very small… if you don’t count the blacksmiths, that is. As always at the start of the morning, the blacksmiths and forgeries began to fill the sky with smoke. It was because of all the sword-forging and arrow-crafting which was necessary to supply more than what a hundred armies needed.
“Grey just doesn’t seem to get it, does he?” she sighed. “Oh well… Drake must be waiting for me, too.”
Ashley caught up with Grey when he was just a few steps from the hill. Even from there, the large pillars of smoke could be seen. There were two ways to get up the hill. One of the paths towards the summit of the hill was just the plain old grassy slope while the other was like a staircase which was dug generations ago. At this time, it had already been cemented.
Once they had reached the top of the hill, the two saw Drake standing and staring at the town as Grey had done yesterday. He stood with his right leg bent with his right foot on a rock. He held his chin in his right hand as his thigh supported his elbow.
“Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeemmmmoooooooooooooooo,” teased Grey.
“Grey!” scolded Ashley as she swiftly punched him with her right elbow.
“Aaawww!” exclaimed Grey as he rubbed his side. “That hurt…”
“Hehehehe… took ‘ya long enough, Grey,” said Drake. “Look at the village. What do you see?”
“Hmm… I can see my house from here!”
“…what else?”
“Uh, numerous blacksmiths and pillars of smoke?”
“Bingo! Anyway, do any of the two of you know why this nation is having war?” Drake asked.
“Is it because of their greed for resources, money, and power?” replied Ashley.
“No. Politicians aren't that bad... Anyway, not long ago, about two centuries ago-“
“Hey, that seems very long,” interrupted Grey. “Err… nevermind; go on.”
“As I was saying,” continued Drake. “About two centuries ago, colonists came to this land teaching our ancestors their culture and forcing them to follow their religion. Our forefathers who worshipped the Dragon, the said-to-be guardian of our nation, were either killed, converted, or outcasted. It wasn’t long ‘til a rebellion was formed. It took a year or two to overthrow the ‘intruders’. And by doing so, it was believed that they ‘killed’ the god, the winged leopard. After that, peace returned to the land once again. Ships started to come and go. People left and people stayed. It all was normal again until-“
“Oooo! Ooo! Let me guess! More people came and did the whole ‘kill the infidels’ thing?” interrupted Grey as he raised his hand and jumped in excitement.
“No. It’s not like that. The reason for this war was caused by these strange plagues which started to happen twenty years ago. Forest fires have appeared more frequently, new diseases have been discovered which not even alchemy could cure, harvests have been going bad, and according to some, the moon has been disappearing. The more and more the people fought, the more and more these ‘plagues’ occurred." Drake paused shortly as he shook his head. "The people of today and of the past are but the same – they’re superstitious!” His tone seemed to enraged.
“What do you mean?” Ashley asked.
“When they fought, they fought to ‘avenge’ their god. They started a chain of revenge that caused the war to rage on. They’re blaming the ‘death’ of their god as the cause of the plagues and say that they need sacrifices. What they don’t know is that they’re cause of all this!” replied Drake. Drake took his SWORD and aimed at one of forgeries. “WAR!” he shouted. “YOU’RE THE CAUSE OF ALL THIS!” He pulled the trigger and watched the building burn to ashes.
“I-I don’t get it. What does war have to do with this?” Grey asked.
“They say forest fires have become more frequent. That’s because all the smoke coming from the forgeries have damaged the Ozone Layer. They say that new diseases have been introduced to his world. That’s because they’re too lazy to bury the corpses!”
The three remained silent. “Hurry,” Drake spoke. “They’re probably wondering what caused the explosion. Pack your things. And bring your crimson sword. Let's meet by the old windmill... we aren't done yet.”
The three descended the hill. When they had reached the flat solid ground, they each took their seperate paths towards their homes. The path leading to Grey's house from the hill seemed much shorter than it had been going up.
Grey: Yeah, all you’d have to do is just jump and you're there in no time!
Narrator: *makes a big boulder fall on Grey by narrating it* For the last time; pretend I’m not here.
*Ehem* Rushing home excitedly, Grey almost tripped over a fruit stand - again. Grey's small village -small, as long as you didn't count the number of forges- seemed to be from the Industrial Age. Compared to other towns and villages, this town was low-tech. The floor’s tiles were rocks of different shapes and sizes that were partially dug into the ground. As always, the creation of war tools caused the sky to be blocked by a gaint cloud of smoke. Aside from the blacksmiths and forgeries, trains that passed by had also contributed to the smoke. But the pollution it produced wasn’t much compared to infrastructures’.
As soon as Grey entered his house, his uncle, who adopted him, asked. “Grey, why up so early?” His voice was calm and he spoke softly and slowly like an old man. Arthur Linn, Grey’s uncle, was believed to be untouchable in combat. As mentioned, he was a veteran swordsman, a great warrior indeed. His arms were swift as a dragon's claws striking for the sky and his eyes were as accurate as an eagle's. When unarmed, he releases swift blows from his fists, punching alternately with repition. He had no scars and no defeats. Without a single doubt about his strength, Grey was always worried about his uncle's health. He was already in his fifty’s yet he still led armies to battle. Most of the time, he’d volunteer to be a front-liner. And at times of ceasefire, younger warriors sought duels with him.
“Uh… I-I was… uhh…” Grey thought quickly about his next words. Telling his uncle that he got up early and went to the cliffside would have caused him to ask for more information which might lead to the truth about the explosion while making a convincing alibi seemed to be safe. “I heard an explosion so I… went to check it out.”
“Is that so…?” his uncle replied. “Then you must have the feet of a bandit to leave the house without me noticing. Oh well… Breakfast is ready.” The old man slid a bowl of porridge towards Grey.
Grey took a seat and started eating. As he took a scoop, he slowly opened his mouth and paused. His uncle noticed that Grey paid no attention to his meal. He had seemed to be staring at a void of blank space thinking of something. “Grey, is anything wrong?”
“It’s nothing,” he replied. He didn’t make any eye contact whatsoever. He just stared at his half-eaten meal. “I… gotta go.” Grey rushed upstairs to the attic, ignoring his uncle’s calls and questions.
Light from a window shined upon the crimson blade. Grey stared at it with his tired eyes. Back so soon…? Come. Take my power! Grey ignored the voice in his head and sheathed the blade. “Uncle can’t see me with this…” Grey took a backpack from his room and stuffed it with a few books from the two shelves in his room, a feather pen, and some extra clothes. Grey returned to the attic, opened a circular window, exited through it, and found himself standing on the roof, eight feet above the ground. Thinking of a way to get down, Grey analyzed the village from the rooftop.
Grey: Can’t I just jump?
Narrator: *makes a lightning bolt strike Grey by narrating it* I told you to pretend I’m not here!
*Ehem* Grey noticed a pole where the water flows down from the roof when it rains. He slid down using it. “Heh, that seemed better than jumping! Now it’s time to meet up with Ashley and Drake by that old windmill.” Grey wore his backpack and started to get moving.
As he passed by the burning forgery, numerous townsfolk gathered around and were talking about the “accident”. Ignoring them Grey decided to just pass them and head towards the windmill and the town’s border. The windmill had been abandoned for five years. Ever since power plants and generators had been introduced, there was no longer any use for it. Farmlands were converted to blacksmiths and homes and people just had to depend on their small gardens and caravans that supplied them with food. The building was wooden, made of oak. Because of the lack of maintenance, the place had become a wreckage. Even weak gusts of wind were known to blow debris off.
Grey had finally reached the mill. Trying to relax, he breathed deeply and supported his hands on his thighs.
“Heh, took ‘ya long enough.” Drake spoke with his middle and pointing fingers bending like a quotation mark.
“Anyway,” interrupted Ashley as she took a small notepad from her pocket. “Since I couldn’t trust that you boys would be responsible enough, I made a check-list.”
“I told you we should’ve just left her!” shouted Grey.
“Ehem, as I was saying,” continued Ashley as she took a pencil. “Do any of you have… extra clothes?”
“Check!” the two replied. Drake spoke as he examined his backpack while Grey depended on his memory.
This routine went on and on until Drake interrupted. “We get it, Ashley. Boys aren’t as irresponsible as you think. We have our survival instincts, ‘ya know. Now it’s my turn, do any of you have a weapon?” Grey remained silent as he drew the crimson blade from its sheath. Drake gave Ashley a teasing look. “What about you, Ashley?” he asked.
The girl blushed and looked at Drake scoldingly. Her legs remained still and her hands were at her waist. She leaned her body towards Drake, and made close eye contact. “Do you expect me to carry a weapon?”
Drake remained calm, closed his eyes and waggled his finger in front of her. “Tsk tsk tsk… yeah. Maybe you’re not meant to be armed. After all, who’d want you to survive in our journey? I mean, think of all those dark spooky forests with… WOLVES!!! Yeah, no need to bring a weapon...” Drake spoke so calmly that it annoyed Ashley.
“Fine, I’ll go get one… or do you already have one?”
“Sorry,” Drake replied. “All I got is this K56 Bladecannon.” The two looked at Drake suspiciously. “Wha-whaaat…? Do you expect me to carry explosives and such?”
“Uhh…” Before Grey could say no, Drake continued.
“Fine, fine; ‘ya got me.” Drake kicked a mound of wreckage and took a sack filled with small silver balls from under it. They were about five inches in diameter and on each of them, was a red button. “Use them with care. They’re limited and the explosions have a range of up to two and a half meters.”
“No, thanks, Drake. I’ll just depend on the protection you two ‘gentlemen’ will provide me. So umm, we’re we headed to?”
“I got three train tickets here.” Drake pulled three small pieces of paper from his pocket. “We’re towards Hasaf Wyvern.”
“But isn’t that in one of those high-tech towns which seem to be the center of trades and industries?” Grey asked.
“Yup, but not just that. Hasaf Wyvern is a tower, or should I say a keep? That’s General Garrin’s stronghold.”
“So, if we’re headed to the station, why’d we meet up here?” Ashley asked.
“This is the only place in town I could think of where we could talk privately... besides the cliff that is. One thing for sure is that we couldn’t do it in my place. My room doesn’t even have a door. Talk about lack of privacy…” Drake replied. He closed his eyes as he spoke, his upper arms made contact with his body, he elevated his lower arms, and opened his palms. This had always been the way he acted when he talked about how annoying his home was. “Besides…” Drake opened his eyes and pointed at the station. “It’s not like the station is in the opposite direction of where we are now. It’s just a few minutes' walk from here. Anyway, let’s get a move-on. I've got business with Garrin…”
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