Thirty years ago in a land far away...
Two humans crouched, foreheads pressed together, the hands of one bruising the hands of the other, yet it was the owner of the crushing hands who cried out in pain. Winds swirled around the pair as bloody fluids pooled beneath one.
...
Thirty years and a few days ago in a land far away...
Two humans lay together comforting, loving. The masculine spoke, reassuring the feminine. The signs were favorable, it would be a son.
...
Thirty years less a few days ago in a land far away...
Three they were now. One stood, one lay on the ground, one was now buried. The one who stood left, in shame.
The child with the withered arm remained and cried without comprehension to an uncaring world.
The Land Far Away (adult themes probable)
The Land Far Away (adult themes probable)
Last edited by Rumple C on Mon Apr 19, 2010 6:36 pm, edited 1 time in total.
12.August.2015: Never forget.
Re: The Land Far Away (adult themes possible)
Present time...
The docks...
Gai loaded oranges from the hold in the baskets. He then shouldered the wooden pole (oh how he longed for the flexible bamboo of his homeland) from which dangled said baskets. Grunting under the load (they were large oranges, and larger baskets) he surefoodedly weaved his way between crates of goods from distant and not so distant cities. Gaining the gangplank he surged its narrow length afore shifting the oranges gently into a larger crate on the back of a wagon.
One by one they were lifted, quickly checked and placed in rows, each orange in a place swiftly but suredly chosen by Gai. His hands moved - fast and practised. Perfectly orange oranges made their way to their homes, destiny soon to be fufilled by being broken, consumed, discarded. His right hand came to an abrupt stop as his eyes picked out a discoloration in the fruit, further investigation showed imperfection. A rotting fruit in his twisted hand.
He tossed it to a waiting wicker basket, supressing for the dozenth time today a saddening thought about irony.
The docks...
Gai loaded oranges from the hold in the baskets. He then shouldered the wooden pole (oh how he longed for the flexible bamboo of his homeland) from which dangled said baskets. Grunting under the load (they were large oranges, and larger baskets) he surefoodedly weaved his way between crates of goods from distant and not so distant cities. Gaining the gangplank he surged its narrow length afore shifting the oranges gently into a larger crate on the back of a wagon.
One by one they were lifted, quickly checked and placed in rows, each orange in a place swiftly but suredly chosen by Gai. His hands moved - fast and practised. Perfectly orange oranges made their way to their homes, destiny soon to be fufilled by being broken, consumed, discarded. His right hand came to an abrupt stop as his eyes picked out a discoloration in the fruit, further investigation showed imperfection. A rotting fruit in his twisted hand.
He tossed it to a waiting wicker basket, supressing for the dozenth time today a saddening thought about irony.
12.August.2015: Never forget.
Re: The Land Far Away (adult themes possible)
Darkness crept slowly over his vision. Oranges became muddier, before browning and blackening with the rest of the docks.
He straightened, one hand on the base of his spine, grimacing in discomfort. He took his place in the line of dock workers. As expected he was soon pulled back by his tattered cloth shirt as more dockhands arrived. With an apologetic nod at his laughing co-workers he shifted behind them. He stared at the back of their heads, his face without emotion. He watched them laugh, spit, swear, and boast.
The line slowly moved forwards, dozens of men collecting a few coins coppers for most, a few silver for the leaders. He observed man by man walk past him counting a handful of coins. They did not look at him, occupied by thoughts of how much mind numbing poison they could now buy, how much it would cost to rut with the dock whores, or where could they gamble it away this eve.
Step by patient step he made the paymasters wooden office. Through a barred window he nodded slowly at the paymaster who made a point of ignoring him. After a minute of ignoring Gai the paymaster sighed and pointed at a wicker basket a dozen meters away holding up one finger. The same wicker basket that Gai had spent the day discarding rotting oranges into.
Gai turned, his face still without emotion, and walked to the basket. It smelt sickly sweet of sugar and rot. He picked one of the better looking oranges from the top. He looked down at the spoilt precious orange cradled in his hands. He stood for a long time looking at the water dancing in the failing light, his face again showing nothing of what he was repressing inside. Turning to leave he saw the paymaster feeding tidbits of meat to a stray dog.
Gais hand twitched and his twisted thumb sank through the rotten skin of the orange.
He straightened, one hand on the base of his spine, grimacing in discomfort. He took his place in the line of dock workers. As expected he was soon pulled back by his tattered cloth shirt as more dockhands arrived. With an apologetic nod at his laughing co-workers he shifted behind them. He stared at the back of their heads, his face without emotion. He watched them laugh, spit, swear, and boast.
The line slowly moved forwards, dozens of men collecting a few coins coppers for most, a few silver for the leaders. He observed man by man walk past him counting a handful of coins. They did not look at him, occupied by thoughts of how much mind numbing poison they could now buy, how much it would cost to rut with the dock whores, or where could they gamble it away this eve.
Step by patient step he made the paymasters wooden office. Through a barred window he nodded slowly at the paymaster who made a point of ignoring him. After a minute of ignoring Gai the paymaster sighed and pointed at a wicker basket a dozen meters away holding up one finger. The same wicker basket that Gai had spent the day discarding rotting oranges into.
Gai turned, his face still without emotion, and walked to the basket. It smelt sickly sweet of sugar and rot. He picked one of the better looking oranges from the top. He looked down at the spoilt precious orange cradled in his hands. He stood for a long time looking at the water dancing in the failing light, his face again showing nothing of what he was repressing inside. Turning to leave he saw the paymaster feeding tidbits of meat to a stray dog.
Gais hand twitched and his twisted thumb sank through the rotten skin of the orange.
12.August.2015: Never forget.
Re: The Land Far Away (adult themes probable)
Gai knew that there were two basic needs to survive. Food and shelter. Food of a sort he now had, purchased with a days sweat. Shelter would need to be next. He knew of a handful of possible spots where he might gain a touch of security for his sleep.
His first choice proved unluckily already inhabited by a drunken beggar who hurled abuse and bottles at him. The way to the second was blocked by teamsters smoking pipes and talking about their most recent travels. The third was… adequate. A sewer grate long since rusted a way provided entry to a stench filled pipe the width of his outstretched arms. An armful of wooden planks scavenged months ago provided a very unstable and temporary bed wedged over slowly flowing muck.
The only thing likely to disturb his rest here was rats, or a sudden and terrible drop with a soft landing.
…
It was not easy to sleep over filth, particularly that of others. It was however far better than sleeping in it. Gai gave himself over to philosophy as he lay there, slowly peeling his orange in the darkness. Could one be clean when all that surrounds one is impurity? Or is one tarnished by association?, by proximity?
These were thoughts worthy of contemplation, philosophy however fought with exhaustion, and lost.
Planks battled with gravity, and luckily for gai at least, on this eve they won.
His first choice proved unluckily already inhabited by a drunken beggar who hurled abuse and bottles at him. The way to the second was blocked by teamsters smoking pipes and talking about their most recent travels. The third was… adequate. A sewer grate long since rusted a way provided entry to a stench filled pipe the width of his outstretched arms. An armful of wooden planks scavenged months ago provided a very unstable and temporary bed wedged over slowly flowing muck.
The only thing likely to disturb his rest here was rats, or a sudden and terrible drop with a soft landing.
…
It was not easy to sleep over filth, particularly that of others. It was however far better than sleeping in it. Gai gave himself over to philosophy as he lay there, slowly peeling his orange in the darkness. Could one be clean when all that surrounds one is impurity? Or is one tarnished by association?, by proximity?
These were thoughts worthy of contemplation, philosophy however fought with exhaustion, and lost.
Planks battled with gravity, and luckily for gai at least, on this eve they won.
12.August.2015: Never forget.
Re: The Land Far Away (adult themes probable)
The next day saw Gai again at the docks. Standing in a line of hopeful dock workers all seeking daily employment. Gai was always one of the first called out. For all the racism, for all the discrimination he faced, he was at least cheap to pay, albeit not through his own choice. He had at times been paid with rotting food, broken goods, once a handful of iron nails, but never with coin. As the paymaster once said “Why pay the slitty with coin he doesn’t understand?”
They thought he couldn’t understand. HE knew only to well the value of the copper and silver coins hew saw on the docks. He understood their language as well. A flat guttural barbaric mash of words. Easy for one of his intelligence and training to pick up. Oh how the looked down on him because of the way he looked, because he was shorter than they, because they were all ready at the bottom of the social ladder, and thusly eager to find someone lower than themselves to lord it over.
In fact Gai spoke four languages, he found words and phrases came easy to him given the difficulty of his own language, with its four intonations and hundreds of irregular verbs.
He was pulled from his musings by a finger pointed at him. Once again he had a days work, once again he would spend another day just surviving, but not prospering in any meaning of the word, no matter the language.
They thought he couldn’t understand. HE knew only to well the value of the copper and silver coins hew saw on the docks. He understood their language as well. A flat guttural barbaric mash of words. Easy for one of his intelligence and training to pick up. Oh how the looked down on him because of the way he looked, because he was shorter than they, because they were all ready at the bottom of the social ladder, and thusly eager to find someone lower than themselves to lord it over.
In fact Gai spoke four languages, he found words and phrases came easy to him given the difficulty of his own language, with its four intonations and hundreds of irregular verbs.
He was pulled from his musings by a finger pointed at him. Once again he had a days work, once again he would spend another day just surviving, but not prospering in any meaning of the word, no matter the language.
12.August.2015: Never forget.
Re: The Land Far Away (adult themes probable)
That eve something unexpected happened. The paymaster obviously feeling magnanimous after a particularly good quarterly profit placed a copper coin in front of Gai. Gais fingers crabbed over to the coin and scooped it up, holding it tight in his good hand. He turned and left the paymasters shack, the paymaster snorting at his back.
…
Two beggers blocked his way as he left the docks. They had observed him being paid with their rheumy eyes, and moved to intercept. “Hand it over” the one on the left demanded pulling a very small rusty knife. The one on the right held out his hand, palm u for the coin. Gai looked around the docks. His bargaining position was poor. He was unarmed and alone. From a window nearby Gai saw an interested male face watching the proceedings. Gai looked down at the coin in his hand, shuffling it to sit on his thumb. He flicked it high at the one on the right who lifted his arms to catch it. Gai watched as they took their eyes from him and followed the coin. His coin was caught. “Consider that an import taxes” crowed the beggar with the knife as the pair scuttled off to wherever they came from. Gai saw the figure in the window withdraw from sight.
Gai spent a sleepless night thinking about what had just happened.
…
The next day saw Gai employed again, sweating for naught. When he gained the paymasters shack, Gai spoke “I don’t want to be paid in rubbish today, what I want is for you to put something small and heavy into a scrap of paper, or an old pouch and tie the top, like you have just given me a –full- days pay”. Gai had put a lot of emphasis on the word full. The paymaster looked at him clearly surprised, before looking around for the materials to fufill his very unusual request. “What do you want that for?” asked the paymaster. Gai just looked at him with a polite smile as though he couldn’t understand a word he had said.
Clearly nonplussed the paymaster thumped a small bag in front of him. Gai scooped it up, making his way again out the docks. AS he had anticipated he was again stopped by the same pair of beggars who demanded his pouch. “Give it up Slitty” cackled the one with the knife. Anguish etched itself on his face as Gai looked down at the pouch. He tossed it high again, tensing. They fell for the bait, eyes high on the bags path.
Pushing forth his clawed hand at the brave with the rusted knife he spoke a word in the language of magic. To the unknowing nothing seemed immediately different. Gai however knew better. He moved quickly snatching the knife out of the beggars now loose grip. He moved in behind the dazed beggar, pulling back on his hair hard, exposing his throat to the blade he now held.
The other beggar caught the bag and ran.
“looks like it’s just you and me now” Gai hissed into the ear of the begger, who blinked his eyes, clearing his head. An amused laugh from above drew Gais gaze. The same windowed figure as yesterday. Gai ignored him, preferring instead to pat down the filthy begger. A pocked clinked and Gai pulled forth a very small hand full of tarnished coins. Giving the beggar a push, Gai pushed the blade of the knife into a nearby crack, and twisted the handle, snapping the old blade. He tossed the hilt back at the beggar. “keep the change” he quipped at the fleeing figure.
Gai looked up.
The windowed figure held up a hand at him. “wait there” it commanded. Gai paused then nodded at him. He took the time to count the coins in his hand. Four copper coins minted in the gate, and plain copper coin from Waterdeep. He pocketed the coins, pleased with himself, although his heart was still racing.
…
Two beggers blocked his way as he left the docks. They had observed him being paid with their rheumy eyes, and moved to intercept. “Hand it over” the one on the left demanded pulling a very small rusty knife. The one on the right held out his hand, palm u for the coin. Gai looked around the docks. His bargaining position was poor. He was unarmed and alone. From a window nearby Gai saw an interested male face watching the proceedings. Gai looked down at the coin in his hand, shuffling it to sit on his thumb. He flicked it high at the one on the right who lifted his arms to catch it. Gai watched as they took their eyes from him and followed the coin. His coin was caught. “Consider that an import taxes” crowed the beggar with the knife as the pair scuttled off to wherever they came from. Gai saw the figure in the window withdraw from sight.
Gai spent a sleepless night thinking about what had just happened.
…
The next day saw Gai employed again, sweating for naught. When he gained the paymasters shack, Gai spoke “I don’t want to be paid in rubbish today, what I want is for you to put something small and heavy into a scrap of paper, or an old pouch and tie the top, like you have just given me a –full- days pay”. Gai had put a lot of emphasis on the word full. The paymaster looked at him clearly surprised, before looking around for the materials to fufill his very unusual request. “What do you want that for?” asked the paymaster. Gai just looked at him with a polite smile as though he couldn’t understand a word he had said.
Clearly nonplussed the paymaster thumped a small bag in front of him. Gai scooped it up, making his way again out the docks. AS he had anticipated he was again stopped by the same pair of beggars who demanded his pouch. “Give it up Slitty” cackled the one with the knife. Anguish etched itself on his face as Gai looked down at the pouch. He tossed it high again, tensing. They fell for the bait, eyes high on the bags path.
Pushing forth his clawed hand at the brave with the rusted knife he spoke a word in the language of magic. To the unknowing nothing seemed immediately different. Gai however knew better. He moved quickly snatching the knife out of the beggars now loose grip. He moved in behind the dazed beggar, pulling back on his hair hard, exposing his throat to the blade he now held.
The other beggar caught the bag and ran.
“looks like it’s just you and me now” Gai hissed into the ear of the begger, who blinked his eyes, clearing his head. An amused laugh from above drew Gais gaze. The same windowed figure as yesterday. Gai ignored him, preferring instead to pat down the filthy begger. A pocked clinked and Gai pulled forth a very small hand full of tarnished coins. Giving the beggar a push, Gai pushed the blade of the knife into a nearby crack, and twisted the handle, snapping the old blade. He tossed the hilt back at the beggar. “keep the change” he quipped at the fleeing figure.
Gai looked up.
The windowed figure held up a hand at him. “wait there” it commanded. Gai paused then nodded at him. He took the time to count the coins in his hand. Four copper coins minted in the gate, and plain copper coin from Waterdeep. He pocketed the coins, pleased with himself, although his heart was still racing.
12.August.2015: Never forget.