Journals8
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Untethered
11 min read
Sunlight leaked in from outside the frosty, slightly soiled window pane. While having not been wholly obscured by any sort of curtain or blind with the exception of the dirt, the faint rays of light managed to bypass the somewhat clear barrier and fell upon a nearby face-- a face belonging to Naushe Kearney, resting against a deflated pillow with expression content in its slumber. His freckled nose twitched, indicating that he was waking from his sleep, and he wrinkled up his previously calm facade. A moment escaped him, where his eyelids soon parted to reveal a pair of light, tawny irises surrounded by a squint. His pupils shrunk beneath the section of light that lingered upon his gaze.
He sluggishly rolled over to turn toward Mariah that lied beside him. She hadn’t been stirred from her slumber just yet, but he seized the opportunity to look upon her quiet beauty. His lips quirked upward in a subtle fashion, stare warm with somber appreciation. It was not long before she, too, opened her eyes, gaze meeting his.
She furrowed her brow skeptically when she eventually realized what he was doing. “What,” she stated plainly, rather than using an inquiring tone.
He exhaled through his nose in a sigh and shook his crimson-haired head, drawing a hand through the unruly mess of thick, shoulder-length locks. “Not’in’. Yah just look so peaceful when yer sleepin’, ‘tis all.” He mirrored her thick, Irish accent with his own. “But yer awake now-- so much fer t’at, yeah?”
His impish grin, though believable, was feigned. It was as if their relationship was a forced one, much like the faux emotion put into his smile. Mariah paused, but rolled over to face him by response, propping her head up with her right arm crooked at the elbow. She didn’t seem to be in the same humor as her husband and she lowered her gaze to steal a peek at her wedding ring. Her brow fell once more in contemplation. “Roight yah are,” she breathed, looking to him again. “What toime are yah leavin’ fer yer sister’s?”
He hesitated, much like she had, but shot her a sidelong glance. “Here in ta’ next few minutes. Oi’ll… Ah… Go and wake ta’ little ones, loike,” he replied and hefted his torso up into a seated position, causing the sheets to fall from his upper body. After cupping his face with his hands to wipe them down his youthful features, he slung his legs about to the side of the bed, feet resting upon the floorboards. He wriggled his toes before standing.
The woman averted her stare. She wasn’t embarrassed, just strangely disinterested.
Once he was clothed enough to be presentable, Naushe gave her a quick nod and vague grin, then departed from the room. Mariah returned to a lying position, resting now on her back, and pulled the sheets upward to cloak her torso far enough to cover her collarbone. She appeared somewhat apprehensive, her eyes locked upon the cracked ceiling overhead. Time passed and when what seemed like ages eluded her, her redhaired husband returned with two new present. Mackenzie, a young boy nearing his fifth birthday, gripped at his father’s fingers, his spare thumb jammed into his mouth; whereas Yariel, the seven-year-old daughter, remained behind her dad with arms folded. They both appeared tired and Yariel seemed considerably cranky.
“Whoiy we got ta’ get up so early, mum?” the girl asked, still sulking. Mack nodded sheepishly with his sister’s question, but he wasn’t too bothered by the premature arousal.
Mariah closed her eyes with a trace of a frown, responding: “Oi’ve got ta’ go out o’ town today fer groceries and yer dad’s got ta’ work. Can’t be lettin’ eit’er o’ yah stay here boiy yer lonesome.” She didn’t seem in the mood for joking, so she left it at that. Naushe found his wife’s disposition off, but he refrained from bringing attention to the oddity, merely giving a look of concerned suspicion.
“And… Uh,” he began, stumbling over his thoughts due to the uncharacteristic behavior. “And we also can’t be lettin’ yah go wit’ Mum. Mack’ll eat all ta’ food before yah get it home.” Naushe hoped it would lighten the mood. The small boy let loose a shy chuckle, even with the soggy thumb lodged between his lips; however, Yariel was unamused. Mariah remained silent, which called for another worried glance from her husband.
Naushe cleared his throat, eager to vacate the strange environment with a change of his stance. “Well… Ah… Yah be safe travelin’, buttercup; Oi’ll-- uh… We’ll be seein’ yah later tonoight, loike.” He gave a wave with his unburdened hand, his other caught in an unintentional death grip from his son, and then ushered the two children out with him. In mid-step, he glanced briefly over his shoulder to take one last look at his wife, still slightly troubled. Mariah slowly sat upright and gave him a pained nod accompanied by a forced smile.
“Mhm,” was all she was able to say.
After a moderately forlorn sigh from the father, the trio of Kearneys trudged their way down the aged staircase, Naushe being solely responsible for all the creaks. Mack refused to remove the thumb from his lips, even though it could very well be a hazard during their descent, and it resulted in a somewhat reproachful frown from his father. Despite the child’s reluctance to give up his thumb-sucking, the three of them made it outside without incident.
“Ain’t yah a bit old fer t’at, Mack?” the tallest asked, nodding downward toward the child’s sodden digit. Before Mack could answer, struggling to remove the thumb from his mouth, Naushe patted at his own chest. He came to the realization that he didn’t slip his claw necklace over his head this morning and peeked backward for the front door. His thick brows knitted, but he decided against retrieving it straight away, opting to escort his children to his sister’s before returning.
Although Mack’s legs were short and had a tendency to slow down the gait of both his father and his sister, the three of them arrived at the Donoghue home in good time and were all greeted by Nyla personally with an over-enthusiastic hug and smooch to the cheek, Naushe included. She backed up as soon as she was satisfied with each hearty hello and gave her brother a warm, sympathetic look-- she was able to sense that something was off with her elder sibling, but didn’t feel it necessary to pry, at least not with the children in their company.
Nyla forced her gaze down upon her niece and nephew and flashed a broad, toothy grin. “Bit early fer ta’ lot o’ yah ta’ be awake, ain’t it?”
Mack replied silently with a vacant nod, his eyes unfocused and his thoughts likely lost in his own, exhausted mind; however, Yariel offered her own opinion vocally: “Aye. Wasn’t me oidea.” While the young, slightly sour girl didn’t seem all too delighted about the situation, Nyla crouched down just the same and ruffled her hair, which caused the child to wrinkle her freckled nose in disapproval.
“C’mon insoide-- Caoiliann’s upstairs and Oi’m sure she’ll be t’rilled ta’ have someone ta’ play wit’, yeah?” Nyla encouraged, retreating a step to allow the two youths to enter. Mack, despite being excessively tired, waddled inside with vague enthusiasm and his sister reluctantly followed. Their aunt then flicked her aquamarine gaze upward to meet Naushe’s. She paused and took in his appearance before speaking once more. “Yah look loike somet’in’s bot’erin’ yah-- everyt’in’ alroight?”
Her brother blinked twice to break him of his impassive stare. “Ah? Oh-- uh… Oi’m foine. Must just be sleepy, ‘tis all,” he answered, but not in a convincing fashion. He was a terrible liar.
“Oi don’t boiy t’at,” she said rather flatly, continuing after a hesitation. “But… Oi ain’t goin’ ta’ interrogate yah furt’er. No sense at t’is hour, anyway.” She placed a hand upon her hip and drew her free one through her red hair while turning to ensure that the children had scurried upstairs. “T’ough… If yah change yer moind and feel loike talkin’ ta’ someone, yah know where ta’ foind me. Oi won’t keep yah-- know yah got work ta’ get to and all.”
Naushe felt a weak smile tug at the corners of his mouth and he turned it into a believable smile of thanks. “‘Course. T’anks again fer keepin’ an eye on ta’ little ones.” His tone was sincere. He stepped forward, reaching for an embrace in farewell, where Nyla silently obliged. She patted him upon his back before releasing him and taking a half-stride backward. “‘Tis ta’ hoighloight o’ me day, ta’ see me favorite niece and nephew.”
Naushe’s left brow twitched up in mild amusement. “T’ere yer only niece and nephew.”
The two of them exchanged light laughter, swapped goodbyes, and Naushe was soon off. While it took him some time to traverse to his sister’s, it took a fraction of the time to return home without Mack in tow, reaching his own place of residence minutes later. He produced the key from beneath the mat at the foot of his front door, stuffing it inside the lock beneath the handle, and jarred the knob until it yielded to the force pitted against it. The door swung open.
He advanced inside, gently pulling the door shut behind him, then took to climbing the stairs again. His brows furrowed at the muddled footsteps, likely made by his wife, but it wasn’t a cadence that worried him-- it wasn’t until what sounded akin to a stool toppling over, followed by a harsh thud, that he felt inclined to rush up the remainder of the staircase to investigate in a hurry. He threw open the bedroom door, only to freeze on the spot.
A knotted rope hung from the rafters at the center of the room, fashioned up to serve as a noose, and Mariah lied sprawled out across the floor just a few feet from the overturned chair. She appeared dazed, clutching at the back of her head with a hiss of pain slipping through clenched teeth. Her dark eyes quickly rose to find her husband in the doorway and her face paled a few shades.
Naushe shook his head subtly, a gesture that snapped him from his reverie and back to the present. Initially, he stumbled forward, but broke into a run that ended in a sliding crouch at his wife’s side. He didn’t wait for an explanation, merely slipping his hands beneath her armpits to elevate her to the foot of the bed. Mariah’s body then began to tremble. Naushe didn’t say a word.
He took a seat next to her and gingerly, cautiously, guided her in closer to him, tenderly placing a palm against the side of her head to press her cheek to his chest. It was then when he felt the hot tears against his skin, droplets spattering upon his forearm below, and he responded only by snaking said arm about her waist to close the gap between them. The two lingered at the bed’s end in relative quiet, save for the shuddering breaths that Mariah took every so often. It felt as though an eon passed before either of them broke the silence.
“Shh,” Naushe hushed, drawing his left hand up to elevate her chin. She originally resisted, obviously ashamed and terrified; however, her will collapsed and she allowed him to do as he wished. Her timid gaze eventually locked with his. She immediately withered beneath the look he offered, an air of stern, stoic rigidity.
His jaw tensed as his stare darted from her left eye to her right, repeating the process over and over in quick succession. Mariah winced and her lids pulled tight into a wounded expression, but she caved, pressing further forward to bury her face into his chest with a smothered cry. Her husband gently combed his fingers upward through her hair as she leaned into him, his own breath hitching at the very thought of her succeeding if he hadn’t arrived in time. He bowed his own head and planted his lips upon the top of her skull, ultimately dipping lower and resting his left temple against her thick, coarse hair. Naushe closed his eyes with a shudder of his shoulders.
“Yer alroight,” he cooed, voice lower than a whisper.
He sluggishly rolled over to turn toward Mariah that lied beside him. She hadn’t been stirred from her slumber just yet, but he seized the opportunity to look upon her quiet beauty. His lips quirked upward in a subtle fashion, stare warm with somber appreciation. It was not long before she, too, opened her eyes, gaze meeting his.
She furrowed her brow skeptically when she eventually realized what he was doing. “What,” she stated plainly, rather than using an inquiring tone.
He exhaled through his nose in a sigh and shook his crimson-haired head, drawing a hand through the unruly mess of thick, shoulder-length locks. “Not’in’. Yah just look so peaceful when yer sleepin’, ‘tis all.” He mirrored her thick, Irish accent with his own. “But yer awake now-- so much fer t’at, yeah?”
His impish grin, though believable, was feigned. It was as if their relationship was a forced one, much like the faux emotion put into his smile. Mariah paused, but rolled over to face him by response, propping her head up with her right arm crooked at the elbow. She didn’t seem to be in the same humor as her husband and she lowered her gaze to steal a peek at her wedding ring. Her brow fell once more in contemplation. “Roight yah are,” she breathed, looking to him again. “What toime are yah leavin’ fer yer sister’s?”
He hesitated, much like she had, but shot her a sidelong glance. “Here in ta’ next few minutes. Oi’ll… Ah… Go and wake ta’ little ones, loike,” he replied and hefted his torso up into a seated position, causing the sheets to fall from his upper body. After cupping his face with his hands to wipe them down his youthful features, he slung his legs about to the side of the bed, feet resting upon the floorboards. He wriggled his toes before standing.
The woman averted her stare. She wasn’t embarrassed, just strangely disinterested.
Once he was clothed enough to be presentable, Naushe gave her a quick nod and vague grin, then departed from the room. Mariah returned to a lying position, resting now on her back, and pulled the sheets upward to cloak her torso far enough to cover her collarbone. She appeared somewhat apprehensive, her eyes locked upon the cracked ceiling overhead. Time passed and when what seemed like ages eluded her, her redhaired husband returned with two new present. Mackenzie, a young boy nearing his fifth birthday, gripped at his father’s fingers, his spare thumb jammed into his mouth; whereas Yariel, the seven-year-old daughter, remained behind her dad with arms folded. They both appeared tired and Yariel seemed considerably cranky.
“Whoiy we got ta’ get up so early, mum?” the girl asked, still sulking. Mack nodded sheepishly with his sister’s question, but he wasn’t too bothered by the premature arousal.
Mariah closed her eyes with a trace of a frown, responding: “Oi’ve got ta’ go out o’ town today fer groceries and yer dad’s got ta’ work. Can’t be lettin’ eit’er o’ yah stay here boiy yer lonesome.” She didn’t seem in the mood for joking, so she left it at that. Naushe found his wife’s disposition off, but he refrained from bringing attention to the oddity, merely giving a look of concerned suspicion.
“And… Uh,” he began, stumbling over his thoughts due to the uncharacteristic behavior. “And we also can’t be lettin’ yah go wit’ Mum. Mack’ll eat all ta’ food before yah get it home.” Naushe hoped it would lighten the mood. The small boy let loose a shy chuckle, even with the soggy thumb lodged between his lips; however, Yariel was unamused. Mariah remained silent, which called for another worried glance from her husband.
Naushe cleared his throat, eager to vacate the strange environment with a change of his stance. “Well… Ah… Yah be safe travelin’, buttercup; Oi’ll-- uh… We’ll be seein’ yah later tonoight, loike.” He gave a wave with his unburdened hand, his other caught in an unintentional death grip from his son, and then ushered the two children out with him. In mid-step, he glanced briefly over his shoulder to take one last look at his wife, still slightly troubled. Mariah slowly sat upright and gave him a pained nod accompanied by a forced smile.
“Mhm,” was all she was able to say.
After a moderately forlorn sigh from the father, the trio of Kearneys trudged their way down the aged staircase, Naushe being solely responsible for all the creaks. Mack refused to remove the thumb from his lips, even though it could very well be a hazard during their descent, and it resulted in a somewhat reproachful frown from his father. Despite the child’s reluctance to give up his thumb-sucking, the three of them made it outside without incident.
“Ain’t yah a bit old fer t’at, Mack?” the tallest asked, nodding downward toward the child’s sodden digit. Before Mack could answer, struggling to remove the thumb from his mouth, Naushe patted at his own chest. He came to the realization that he didn’t slip his claw necklace over his head this morning and peeked backward for the front door. His thick brows knitted, but he decided against retrieving it straight away, opting to escort his children to his sister’s before returning.
Although Mack’s legs were short and had a tendency to slow down the gait of both his father and his sister, the three of them arrived at the Donoghue home in good time and were all greeted by Nyla personally with an over-enthusiastic hug and smooch to the cheek, Naushe included. She backed up as soon as she was satisfied with each hearty hello and gave her brother a warm, sympathetic look-- she was able to sense that something was off with her elder sibling, but didn’t feel it necessary to pry, at least not with the children in their company.
Nyla forced her gaze down upon her niece and nephew and flashed a broad, toothy grin. “Bit early fer ta’ lot o’ yah ta’ be awake, ain’t it?”
Mack replied silently with a vacant nod, his eyes unfocused and his thoughts likely lost in his own, exhausted mind; however, Yariel offered her own opinion vocally: “Aye. Wasn’t me oidea.” While the young, slightly sour girl didn’t seem all too delighted about the situation, Nyla crouched down just the same and ruffled her hair, which caused the child to wrinkle her freckled nose in disapproval.
“C’mon insoide-- Caoiliann’s upstairs and Oi’m sure she’ll be t’rilled ta’ have someone ta’ play wit’, yeah?” Nyla encouraged, retreating a step to allow the two youths to enter. Mack, despite being excessively tired, waddled inside with vague enthusiasm and his sister reluctantly followed. Their aunt then flicked her aquamarine gaze upward to meet Naushe’s. She paused and took in his appearance before speaking once more. “Yah look loike somet’in’s bot’erin’ yah-- everyt’in’ alroight?”
Her brother blinked twice to break him of his impassive stare. “Ah? Oh-- uh… Oi’m foine. Must just be sleepy, ‘tis all,” he answered, but not in a convincing fashion. He was a terrible liar.
“Oi don’t boiy t’at,” she said rather flatly, continuing after a hesitation. “But… Oi ain’t goin’ ta’ interrogate yah furt’er. No sense at t’is hour, anyway.” She placed a hand upon her hip and drew her free one through her red hair while turning to ensure that the children had scurried upstairs. “T’ough… If yah change yer moind and feel loike talkin’ ta’ someone, yah know where ta’ foind me. Oi won’t keep yah-- know yah got work ta’ get to and all.”
Naushe felt a weak smile tug at the corners of his mouth and he turned it into a believable smile of thanks. “‘Course. T’anks again fer keepin’ an eye on ta’ little ones.” His tone was sincere. He stepped forward, reaching for an embrace in farewell, where Nyla silently obliged. She patted him upon his back before releasing him and taking a half-stride backward. “‘Tis ta’ hoighloight o’ me day, ta’ see me favorite niece and nephew.”
Naushe’s left brow twitched up in mild amusement. “T’ere yer only niece and nephew.”
The two of them exchanged light laughter, swapped goodbyes, and Naushe was soon off. While it took him some time to traverse to his sister’s, it took a fraction of the time to return home without Mack in tow, reaching his own place of residence minutes later. He produced the key from beneath the mat at the foot of his front door, stuffing it inside the lock beneath the handle, and jarred the knob until it yielded to the force pitted against it. The door swung open.
He advanced inside, gently pulling the door shut behind him, then took to climbing the stairs again. His brows furrowed at the muddled footsteps, likely made by his wife, but it wasn’t a cadence that worried him-- it wasn’t until what sounded akin to a stool toppling over, followed by a harsh thud, that he felt inclined to rush up the remainder of the staircase to investigate in a hurry. He threw open the bedroom door, only to freeze on the spot.
A knotted rope hung from the rafters at the center of the room, fashioned up to serve as a noose, and Mariah lied sprawled out across the floor just a few feet from the overturned chair. She appeared dazed, clutching at the back of her head with a hiss of pain slipping through clenched teeth. Her dark eyes quickly rose to find her husband in the doorway and her face paled a few shades.
Naushe shook his head subtly, a gesture that snapped him from his reverie and back to the present. Initially, he stumbled forward, but broke into a run that ended in a sliding crouch at his wife’s side. He didn’t wait for an explanation, merely slipping his hands beneath her armpits to elevate her to the foot of the bed. Mariah’s body then began to tremble. Naushe didn’t say a word.
He took a seat next to her and gingerly, cautiously, guided her in closer to him, tenderly placing a palm against the side of her head to press her cheek to his chest. It was then when he felt the hot tears against his skin, droplets spattering upon his forearm below, and he responded only by snaking said arm about her waist to close the gap between them. The two lingered at the bed’s end in relative quiet, save for the shuddering breaths that Mariah took every so often. It felt as though an eon passed before either of them broke the silence.
“Shh,” Naushe hushed, drawing his left hand up to elevate her chin. She originally resisted, obviously ashamed and terrified; however, her will collapsed and she allowed him to do as he wished. Her timid gaze eventually locked with his. She immediately withered beneath the look he offered, an air of stern, stoic rigidity.
His jaw tensed as his stare darted from her left eye to her right, repeating the process over and over in quick succession. Mariah winced and her lids pulled tight into a wounded expression, but she caved, pressing further forward to bury her face into his chest with a smothered cry. Her husband gently combed his fingers upward through her hair as she leaned into him, his own breath hitching at the very thought of her succeeding if he hadn’t arrived in time. He bowed his own head and planted his lips upon the top of her skull, ultimately dipping lower and resting his left temple against her thick, coarse hair. Naushe closed his eyes with a shudder of his shoulders.
“Yer alroight,” he cooed, voice lower than a whisper.
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Taaaaagged~
4 min read
I was tagged by Niori <3
1. You must post these rules.
2. Each person has to share 10 facts about themselves.
3. Answer the 10 questions asked by the person who tagged you and make up 10 questions for the 10 you tag.
4. Choose 10 people and put their icons in your journal.
5. You have to legitimately tag 10 people.
6. No tag-backs.
Aaaaa. Here we go!
---
1. What's the latest book you've read?
---
My questions? Uh... Here?
1. What is your favorite video game?
2. Who was your first crush?
3. What is your dream job/occupation?
4. What is your greatest fear?
5. Have you ever traveled a great distance? If so, where to?
6. Who do you consider to be your greatest influence or inspiration?
7. If you were a Pokemon, which would you be?
8. What would you ask for if you were granted three wishes?
9. Do you have any scars? If so, what one are you most proud of?
10. Head or heart?
I'ma tag these wonderful people:
Jabberwick-art suzzie2 aardvarks WildRozeXD Blue--E The-Shadow-King3 ryciera Syvice Veritaaah ItsABrendan
1. You must post these rules.
2. Each person has to share 10 facts about themselves.
3. Answer the 10 questions asked by the person who tagged you and make up 10 questions for the 10 you tag.
4. Choose 10 people and put their icons in your journal.
5. You have to legitimately tag 10 people.
6. No tag-backs.
Aaaaa. Here we go!
---
1. What's the latest book you've read?
- Les Miserables. I didn't finish it, though. ;~; I think Fifty Shades was the last book I finished.
- “Defend the weak, protect both young and old, never desert your friends. Give justice to all, be fearless in battle and always ready to defend the right." -Brian Jacques. Dunno if that's old enough for you, but he's one of my favorites.
- Oh... Ahaha... Funny thing about that...
My biological father's name is Mark... But I have another... Daddy ou o But that's something I should keep to myself... Ah... I've said pleeeeenty. -Hides immediately-
- I wear headphones when I shop for groceries and I tend to get into my music, so... I accidentally locked eyes with a fellow shopper while singing Let it Go.
- Rock Show by Halestorm
- That was my childhood. I had Bugs' jersey.
- Absolutely. I wanted to be a tiger for the longest time. I blame The Lion King.
- Night. Less distractions and I have a lot of Australian friends :>
- Not very.
- If I had to, I'd probably choose Eliza. I'm used to responding to it, so I suppose it wouldn't be a difficult change.
---
My questions? Uh... Here?
1. What is your favorite video game?
2. Who was your first crush?
3. What is your dream job/occupation?
4. What is your greatest fear?
5. Have you ever traveled a great distance? If so, where to?
6. Who do you consider to be your greatest influence or inspiration?
7. If you were a Pokemon, which would you be?
8. What would you ask for if you were granted three wishes?
9. Do you have any scars? If so, what one are you most proud of?
10. Head or heart?
I'ma tag these wonderful people:
Jabberwick-art suzzie2 aardvarks WildRozeXD Blue--E The-Shadow-King3 ryciera Syvice Veritaaah ItsABrendan
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Glenn's Recapture-- Oh noes!
3 min read
Ophidio descended the noisy oak steps wearily as the dimly blazing candles along the staircase’s railing cast stark shadows upon his pallid face. His mint-green irises flickered faintly in the low light while they surveyed the basement with obvious displeasure that could be discerned even in the dark. He wrinkled his nose, crossing the length of the straw-strewn wooden flooring, and the muted footfalls continued forward until he approached a solid iron door on the opposite side of the chamber. His long fingers wrapped about the door’s tarnished, metal handle, tugging with a decent effort, then he entered the space in a swift, limber motion, avoiding the backswing of the heavy iron gate.
Again, his pastel-green eyes flashed in the gloomy darkness as they fell upon a silhouetted figure that appeared to be chained to the far wall at the end of the corridor. A faint smile touched his thin, colorless lips during his advance. The shackled being stirred in his painfully rigid cuffs and looked up at the effeminately thin man that drew nearer.
“Good evening,” Ophidio sneered, his voice as smooth as the silk upon his bony frame, “I hope this isn’t a bad time.” He crossed his arms behind his back and assumed a stance that demanded respect. “Were you sleeping, Glenn?”
The one called Glenn shifted in the shadows, causing the chains to softly clink against one another. “What is it that you want now?” His feeble demand was uttered in a hoarse tone that was barely audible.
Ophidio’s straight mouth curled up into a sinister smile. “Don’t fret,” he cooed darkly, “I’ve got something else planned for you tonight.” He let loose a stifled chuckle, his eyes glinting menacingly in the blackness. Glenn relaxed his body, obviously unnerved by his skeletal oppressor and his reaction caused Ophidio’s grin to broaden further into a daunting beam.
“And, pray tell, what would that be?” Glenn inquired, his question lined with contempt.
A muffled ring of a bell emitted from upstairs, signifying a possible customer’s entrance from the street outside the first floor. Ophidio’s ears perked at the sound, forcing him to glance over his narrow shoulder, then focused his attention back upon his prisoner. His lip twitched as he reached for a heavy wooden club hanging upon the wall to his right and he gripped the handle with his seemingly glowing fingers—due to their colorlessness—while patting the other end against his upturned, left palm in a painstakingly slow rhythm.
“Can’t have you calling out for help, can I?” the sinister keeper drawled with utter abhorrence. Void of hesitation, Ophidio swung the hefty bludgeon down upon the crown of Glenn’s skull, instantly depriving the chained blond of consciousness. Quite satisfied with his detainee’s reaction, the deranged captor turned on his heel, fluidly placing the mace back upon the rack as he stole back down the hallway and around the spiral staircase to greet the consumer upstairs.
Again, his pastel-green eyes flashed in the gloomy darkness as they fell upon a silhouetted figure that appeared to be chained to the far wall at the end of the corridor. A faint smile touched his thin, colorless lips during his advance. The shackled being stirred in his painfully rigid cuffs and looked up at the effeminately thin man that drew nearer.
“Good evening,” Ophidio sneered, his voice as smooth as the silk upon his bony frame, “I hope this isn’t a bad time.” He crossed his arms behind his back and assumed a stance that demanded respect. “Were you sleeping, Glenn?”
The one called Glenn shifted in the shadows, causing the chains to softly clink against one another. “What is it that you want now?” His feeble demand was uttered in a hoarse tone that was barely audible.
Ophidio’s straight mouth curled up into a sinister smile. “Don’t fret,” he cooed darkly, “I’ve got something else planned for you tonight.” He let loose a stifled chuckle, his eyes glinting menacingly in the blackness. Glenn relaxed his body, obviously unnerved by his skeletal oppressor and his reaction caused Ophidio’s grin to broaden further into a daunting beam.
“And, pray tell, what would that be?” Glenn inquired, his question lined with contempt.
A muffled ring of a bell emitted from upstairs, signifying a possible customer’s entrance from the street outside the first floor. Ophidio’s ears perked at the sound, forcing him to glance over his narrow shoulder, then focused his attention back upon his prisoner. His lip twitched as he reached for a heavy wooden club hanging upon the wall to his right and he gripped the handle with his seemingly glowing fingers—due to their colorlessness—while patting the other end against his upturned, left palm in a painstakingly slow rhythm.
“Can’t have you calling out for help, can I?” the sinister keeper drawled with utter abhorrence. Void of hesitation, Ophidio swung the hefty bludgeon down upon the crown of Glenn’s skull, instantly depriving the chained blond of consciousness. Quite satisfied with his detainee’s reaction, the deranged captor turned on his heel, fluidly placing the mace back upon the rack as he stole back down the hallway and around the spiral staircase to greet the consumer upstairs.
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Feinlajo Part I
9 min read
Warm light lazily seeped through the canopy of the Tawae Wood. The dulled rays poured down upon the two dozing travelers below, arousing them in a gentle manner. The male sat up leisurely, then emitted a lengthy yawn from between his luscious lips. Filtered sunlight fell upon his crystalline, deep azure eyes.
He blinked.
“Seriphi,” he began, turning toward his snoozing companion, “are you awake yet?”
In an attempt to oppose his wake up call, she turned her back to him, still curled up within her cozy blanket. “I am now, Kritt…” she grumbled quietly. “Why would anyone- let alone you- be up at this hour?”
He combed his fingers through his sandy hair. “I figured that we could use a head start to get the guards off our heels. That was a close shave last night…”
She did not move as she spoke, sleep just beginning to retreat. “Right, well… I suppose we should be heading out soon, since you’re so afraid of them…” Despite her head being buried amongst her makeshift pillows, a snigger escaped her smothered throat.
Her taunting lightened his mood. “I’ll check on the horses while you take your time getting ready for the day...”
She dismissed him with a sloth-like wave of her right hand.
Kritt rose to his feet and meandered down the long, earthy pathway as the crisp morning breeze danced about his muscular physique. The two horses were soon within sight and he sighed, relieved that nothing horrible had happened to the majestic creatures overnight. They whinnied happily when the calm man approached their temporary sleeping quarters.
“Easy, girl,” he cooed, detaching the tawny horse’s reins from a nearby tree. He was about to do the same for his onyx mount, but a piercing voice cut through the silence, immobilizing the him instantly. The reins fell from his tense hands.
“Maelstrom, is that you?” it called. “What a wonderful reunion…”
Kritt wheeled around to face the source of sound, forcing his fear to recede. Just beyond the reined tree were a group of armored men headed by the malicious female general, Vaidosa Ogin.
He smiled uneasily. “Good morning, General…” He forced a laugh, then continued the conversation in slightly quavering speech. “You came all this way just to see me? I’m flattered.”
Vaidosa swiftly hurled her slender figure at her adversary, arriving just inches from his nose in a split second. “Enough sarcasm, boy,” she threatened haughtily, “what you and your friend had done was against Kurrosian Law; theft is no laughing matter.”
He was in awe at the speed he had witnessed, unaware that a woman could be so quick, let alone a female of about sixty-five. Because of her advanced age, she had purely white hair, nestled back into an extravagant labyrinth of braids, but yet her skin tone was of a youthful fleshy color with few wrinkles. Vaidosa obviously was of elven blood, which would provide an adequate explanation as to why and how she could travel at such a high velocity.
Her eyes burned a luminescent orange within the confines of her delicate eyelashes as her elongated ears twitched, displaying her aggravation.
“Come quietly and I won’t have to use this,” she warned, then jabbed the butt of her spear into the soft earth, and with a small motion, nonchalantly whirled the weapon about in its socket as if she were stirring with a ladle.
Kritt stared at the unique lance as Vaidosa instructed for her small entourage of armored men to surround the alleged criminal.
“I don’t suppose you know where the girl is…” she added, thick with sarcasm once more.
“I thought that you specifically suggested that we should refrain from mockery,” Kritt countered.
Vaidosa’s citrus eyes flared with intense anger; she could barely contain the fury in her voice as she spoke, “Insolent child… Lay down your arms and come peacefully… If you won’t tell me where your friend is, I’ll just have to find her myself. You weren’t that difficult to find, which was as expected.” She turned to the soldier to her right. “Captain Fedel, scour the forest for the girl… Tawae is a small woodland; finding her should be simple,” she ordered.
Captain Alanstro Fedel nodded regally, “Yes, General. She will be at your feet in no time at all.”
Kritt sized up the captain, fearing that Seriphi would be no match for the large man; Alanstro stood at nearly six foot, his shoulder spread was impressive, and his weapon, a hefty halberd, looked incredibly ominous on its own, let alone in the hands of a muscular knight.
“Seriphi…” Kritt groaned to himself, “You’d better be well awake…”
***
Seriphi tore the blanket from her body and forced herself to set upright. She brought her petite hands to her head, massaging the sleep away from her face.
The fierce morning sunlight was significantly dulled by the soft green foliage, yet a single ray radiated down through a small gap in the leaves, striking Seriphi’s tanned forehead. The warmth was extremely invigorating.
She reached for her burgundy headwrap with a drowsy yawn, then positioned the deep red cloth upon her intensely scarred eyelids in order to conceal the horrific injury that continued to haunt her to this day. With a slight twist, she bound the band about her head, careful not to tangle her short, spiky white hair within the knot, and grabbed for her sleek boots.
Despite living the majority of her life as a vagabond, Seriphi reluctantly preferred to wear high heeled, knee high boots; these shoes were beige in color with stylish tears along their sides. Beneath the colorless exterior, a checkered pattern of red and black revealed itself through the holes in the white leather, giving the footwear a harlequin-like feel.
With shoes on her feet and ribbon on her head, Seriphi stood up from her temporary bed and extended her toned arms in a morning stretch. A nearly inaudible crack echoed throughout the area, much like the sound a joint would make when bent a certain way, but Seriphi distinguished the slight snap as a twig rather than flexed cartilage.
Her pierced half-elf ears flattened against her head in an uneasy manner.
It was as if time itself melted away; Seriphi assumed a rigid stance and inhaled deeply. She flared her nostrils, identifying the scent of an approaching human, and with her acute sense of hearing, she pin-pointed where the aroma emanated from as the stalker crept nearer to her location.
With unimaginable speed, Seriphi drew her sword from its scabbard, rotated on her heel toward the assailant, stopping her adversary in mid-swing, and held her hollowed-out scimitar’s edge just a hair’s breadth away from the man’s jugular.
“Whoa, easy there,” Alanstro mumbled, his confidence receding as he lowered his halberd.
Seriphi eased her face closer to his and breathed in his fragrance with a smile. “Did you know you have a lovely smell to you?” she whispered in a slightly seductive manner.
Alanstro mirrored her grinning expression. “Uh… Thanks…” He eyed the fierce blade calmly, but with a twinge of fear, for the point was still unreasonably close to his vital artery.
“Alright, what gives you the right to sneak up on a lady like that?” she inquired aggressively, now putting pressure upon his thick neck.
He gave her a curious look as he answered, “I was ordered to bring you to justice… “ His steely gray eyes fell upon her headband. “Why are you wearing that red scarf on your face?”
She let out a fake giggle, refusing to reveal any sign of lady-like manners. “Just because I asked you a question doesn’t mean you can… And besides, it’s not a scarf, it’s my mother’s sash… I wear it because I’d rather not allow anyone to see these horrible scars… Understood?”
“So… You’re, uh… Blind?”
“Duh.”
He closed his eyes and laughed quietly. “I can’t believe this… You’re a woman-”
“Yeah? So?”
“And you’re blind…”
“I think we established that…” she growled, her blade now drawing blood from Alanstro’s olive skin.
“And you managed to stop me in my tracks… I feel pretty pathetic right now…” he murmured, wincing from the pain in his neck.
She flashed him a confident smirk, but quickly revisited the urgency of her situation. “Where’s Kritt?” she asked urgently.
Alanstro attempted to distance himself from her weapon, but to no avail. “I’ll show you where he is; however, I’m not promising anything… General Ogin has a horrible temper. I wouldn’t be surprised if your young friend tested her patience and in doing so, she retaliated in a fury…” He sighed. “Like always…”
“Take me to him,” she commanded.
***
Alanstro’s intuition was incredibly accurate. Kritt yearned for a fight in hopes of preoccupying Vaidosa and her men; Seriphi would have better odds for escape if she only had to deal with a single soldier, rather than a group of them.
Kritt unsheathed his short rapier, attempting to incite confrontation. His sapphire irises scanned the opposition cautiously, aware that he was outnumbered five to one, as Vaidosa chuckled viciously at his futile resistance.
“You can’t be serious,” she mumbled inaudibly. “Take him out, but I want him alive! He’ll be worth more that way…”
Two large pike men flanked their target, sauntering menacingly, much like a tiger would as it toyed with its prey. Kritt maintained his stance and braced himself as the remaining two soldiers lunged at him head-on.
The young swordsman sidestepped, avoiding the strike of one of the frontal contenders, and with a swift roll, Kritt managed to elude another swing of his opponent’s mighty swing.
Despite his impressive evasive maneuvers, the youthful hero failed to pinpoint the flanking enemies’ position prior to his somersault.
A halberd caught him in his left thigh.
The reflective steel of the mighty weapon ripped apart the belts wrapped about Kritt‘s limb, tore through the teal pantleg, and buried itself deep into the appendage. Blood erupted from the gash as the soldier withdrew his heavy axe.
Kritt forced the pain to recede to the recesses of his mind; he hurled his body to the right of his offender, brought his leap to a halt and by utilizing his right hand, diverted nearly all of his momentum directly at his foe’s face. His foot came into contact with his adversary’s cheek, instantly breaking the jawbone.
The soldier fell to the ground; his form was enveloped with a powdery shroud of Tawae dust as the remaining challengers froze in amazement.
He blinked.
“Seriphi,” he began, turning toward his snoozing companion, “are you awake yet?”
In an attempt to oppose his wake up call, she turned her back to him, still curled up within her cozy blanket. “I am now, Kritt…” she grumbled quietly. “Why would anyone- let alone you- be up at this hour?”
He combed his fingers through his sandy hair. “I figured that we could use a head start to get the guards off our heels. That was a close shave last night…”
She did not move as she spoke, sleep just beginning to retreat. “Right, well… I suppose we should be heading out soon, since you’re so afraid of them…” Despite her head being buried amongst her makeshift pillows, a snigger escaped her smothered throat.
Her taunting lightened his mood. “I’ll check on the horses while you take your time getting ready for the day...”
She dismissed him with a sloth-like wave of her right hand.
Kritt rose to his feet and meandered down the long, earthy pathway as the crisp morning breeze danced about his muscular physique. The two horses were soon within sight and he sighed, relieved that nothing horrible had happened to the majestic creatures overnight. They whinnied happily when the calm man approached their temporary sleeping quarters.
“Easy, girl,” he cooed, detaching the tawny horse’s reins from a nearby tree. He was about to do the same for his onyx mount, but a piercing voice cut through the silence, immobilizing the him instantly. The reins fell from his tense hands.
“Maelstrom, is that you?” it called. “What a wonderful reunion…”
Kritt wheeled around to face the source of sound, forcing his fear to recede. Just beyond the reined tree were a group of armored men headed by the malicious female general, Vaidosa Ogin.
He smiled uneasily. “Good morning, General…” He forced a laugh, then continued the conversation in slightly quavering speech. “You came all this way just to see me? I’m flattered.”
Vaidosa swiftly hurled her slender figure at her adversary, arriving just inches from his nose in a split second. “Enough sarcasm, boy,” she threatened haughtily, “what you and your friend had done was against Kurrosian Law; theft is no laughing matter.”
He was in awe at the speed he had witnessed, unaware that a woman could be so quick, let alone a female of about sixty-five. Because of her advanced age, she had purely white hair, nestled back into an extravagant labyrinth of braids, but yet her skin tone was of a youthful fleshy color with few wrinkles. Vaidosa obviously was of elven blood, which would provide an adequate explanation as to why and how she could travel at such a high velocity.
Her eyes burned a luminescent orange within the confines of her delicate eyelashes as her elongated ears twitched, displaying her aggravation.
“Come quietly and I won’t have to use this,” she warned, then jabbed the butt of her spear into the soft earth, and with a small motion, nonchalantly whirled the weapon about in its socket as if she were stirring with a ladle.
Kritt stared at the unique lance as Vaidosa instructed for her small entourage of armored men to surround the alleged criminal.
“I don’t suppose you know where the girl is…” she added, thick with sarcasm once more.
“I thought that you specifically suggested that we should refrain from mockery,” Kritt countered.
Vaidosa’s citrus eyes flared with intense anger; she could barely contain the fury in her voice as she spoke, “Insolent child… Lay down your arms and come peacefully… If you won’t tell me where your friend is, I’ll just have to find her myself. You weren’t that difficult to find, which was as expected.” She turned to the soldier to her right. “Captain Fedel, scour the forest for the girl… Tawae is a small woodland; finding her should be simple,” she ordered.
Captain Alanstro Fedel nodded regally, “Yes, General. She will be at your feet in no time at all.”
Kritt sized up the captain, fearing that Seriphi would be no match for the large man; Alanstro stood at nearly six foot, his shoulder spread was impressive, and his weapon, a hefty halberd, looked incredibly ominous on its own, let alone in the hands of a muscular knight.
“Seriphi…” Kritt groaned to himself, “You’d better be well awake…”
***
Seriphi tore the blanket from her body and forced herself to set upright. She brought her petite hands to her head, massaging the sleep away from her face.
The fierce morning sunlight was significantly dulled by the soft green foliage, yet a single ray radiated down through a small gap in the leaves, striking Seriphi’s tanned forehead. The warmth was extremely invigorating.
She reached for her burgundy headwrap with a drowsy yawn, then positioned the deep red cloth upon her intensely scarred eyelids in order to conceal the horrific injury that continued to haunt her to this day. With a slight twist, she bound the band about her head, careful not to tangle her short, spiky white hair within the knot, and grabbed for her sleek boots.
Despite living the majority of her life as a vagabond, Seriphi reluctantly preferred to wear high heeled, knee high boots; these shoes were beige in color with stylish tears along their sides. Beneath the colorless exterior, a checkered pattern of red and black revealed itself through the holes in the white leather, giving the footwear a harlequin-like feel.
With shoes on her feet and ribbon on her head, Seriphi stood up from her temporary bed and extended her toned arms in a morning stretch. A nearly inaudible crack echoed throughout the area, much like the sound a joint would make when bent a certain way, but Seriphi distinguished the slight snap as a twig rather than flexed cartilage.
Her pierced half-elf ears flattened against her head in an uneasy manner.
It was as if time itself melted away; Seriphi assumed a rigid stance and inhaled deeply. She flared her nostrils, identifying the scent of an approaching human, and with her acute sense of hearing, she pin-pointed where the aroma emanated from as the stalker crept nearer to her location.
With unimaginable speed, Seriphi drew her sword from its scabbard, rotated on her heel toward the assailant, stopping her adversary in mid-swing, and held her hollowed-out scimitar’s edge just a hair’s breadth away from the man’s jugular.
“Whoa, easy there,” Alanstro mumbled, his confidence receding as he lowered his halberd.
Seriphi eased her face closer to his and breathed in his fragrance with a smile. “Did you know you have a lovely smell to you?” she whispered in a slightly seductive manner.
Alanstro mirrored her grinning expression. “Uh… Thanks…” He eyed the fierce blade calmly, but with a twinge of fear, for the point was still unreasonably close to his vital artery.
“Alright, what gives you the right to sneak up on a lady like that?” she inquired aggressively, now putting pressure upon his thick neck.
He gave her a curious look as he answered, “I was ordered to bring you to justice… “ His steely gray eyes fell upon her headband. “Why are you wearing that red scarf on your face?”
She let out a fake giggle, refusing to reveal any sign of lady-like manners. “Just because I asked you a question doesn’t mean you can… And besides, it’s not a scarf, it’s my mother’s sash… I wear it because I’d rather not allow anyone to see these horrible scars… Understood?”
“So… You’re, uh… Blind?”
“Duh.”
He closed his eyes and laughed quietly. “I can’t believe this… You’re a woman-”
“Yeah? So?”
“And you’re blind…”
“I think we established that…” she growled, her blade now drawing blood from Alanstro’s olive skin.
“And you managed to stop me in my tracks… I feel pretty pathetic right now…” he murmured, wincing from the pain in his neck.
She flashed him a confident smirk, but quickly revisited the urgency of her situation. “Where’s Kritt?” she asked urgently.
Alanstro attempted to distance himself from her weapon, but to no avail. “I’ll show you where he is; however, I’m not promising anything… General Ogin has a horrible temper. I wouldn’t be surprised if your young friend tested her patience and in doing so, she retaliated in a fury…” He sighed. “Like always…”
“Take me to him,” she commanded.
***
Alanstro’s intuition was incredibly accurate. Kritt yearned for a fight in hopes of preoccupying Vaidosa and her men; Seriphi would have better odds for escape if she only had to deal with a single soldier, rather than a group of them.
Kritt unsheathed his short rapier, attempting to incite confrontation. His sapphire irises scanned the opposition cautiously, aware that he was outnumbered five to one, as Vaidosa chuckled viciously at his futile resistance.
“You can’t be serious,” she mumbled inaudibly. “Take him out, but I want him alive! He’ll be worth more that way…”
Two large pike men flanked their target, sauntering menacingly, much like a tiger would as it toyed with its prey. Kritt maintained his stance and braced himself as the remaining two soldiers lunged at him head-on.
The young swordsman sidestepped, avoiding the strike of one of the frontal contenders, and with a swift roll, Kritt managed to elude another swing of his opponent’s mighty swing.
Despite his impressive evasive maneuvers, the youthful hero failed to pinpoint the flanking enemies’ position prior to his somersault.
A halberd caught him in his left thigh.
The reflective steel of the mighty weapon ripped apart the belts wrapped about Kritt‘s limb, tore through the teal pantleg, and buried itself deep into the appendage. Blood erupted from the gash as the soldier withdrew his heavy axe.
Kritt forced the pain to recede to the recesses of his mind; he hurled his body to the right of his offender, brought his leap to a halt and by utilizing his right hand, diverted nearly all of his momentum directly at his foe’s face. His foot came into contact with his adversary’s cheek, instantly breaking the jawbone.
The soldier fell to the ground; his form was enveloped with a powdery shroud of Tawae dust as the remaining challengers froze in amazement.
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Character Info (Obviously) for My Story~
7 min read
Well, just in case my computer blows up, I wanted to be able to keep this info online XD
CHARACTER INFO~
Glenn Valium: A courageous combatant, a sensual lover, an amiable companion, and a trusting father (pretty much the ideal for a melodramatic hero). Due to his rough past, he had attained dishonorable traits, mainly his alcoholism, and had endured many a battle and triumphed over enemies that had hacked off various limbs and slashed countless scars into his rock-hard body. He is a resilient man, constantly fending off those who want him dead. He falls in love with Natasha, whom shows equal compassion, but is ultimately bested by the murderous General Crimson because of his affection toward the gorgeous woman.
Natasha Radian: A beautiful cleric. She had been rich during the time of her childhood, but after being pampered for sixteen years, she ran away from her life in hopes of starting anew in the country of Mayvel. Once she becomes involved with Glenn, there is no turning back; she falls head over heels in love. She tries to sacrifice her own life to save him, but Glenn refuses to allow such a thing.
Arachna Recluse: An oddly likeable tyrant. He may be terrifyingly inhumane, but his scatterbrained persona gives him the appearance of being almost pitiable. This outer shell is merely a façade; he rules Burgandy with an iron fist, allowing no indiscretion to go unpunished.
Drey Crimson: A highly irritable Burgandian general. His scarlet hair and eyes strike fear into any adversary, and his personality chills his opponents to their very bones. He is a huge man with bulging muscles, towering over the heads of every soldier that stands at his side (and against him, for that matter). He has acquired an undeniable hatred for Glenn Valium, mainly because he had survived during their little squabble. Arachna had ordered him to dispose of Glenn, and Crimson intends to do so.
Myke Avarice: An impish rogue residing in Burgandy. His rebellious nature was induced when his beloved father, Dorobou, was defeated by the current lord of Burgandy (Taran). Left without a parental figure, Myke had to live on his own, and as a child of merely seven, he was unable to survive without reverting to a life of thievery. He is a loyal companion, proving to be most helpful in Glenn’s quest to dethrone the corrupted Lord Arachna.
Keiken Sonoja: An elderly denizen of the city of Burgandy. He was kind, curious, and a bit senile. His loyal companion, Lily, was by his side at all times. He was murdered by Crimson in an attempt to provoke Glenn’s rage.
Dierks Laertes: An eccentric young man, about the age of twenty. He was small, with oddly colored hair (white) and clothing. He too was kind and did not hesitate to help Glenn and the alluring Natasha during their time of need. He was executed by Auros Kraton because of his transgression.
Skarlot Obsidian: An aspiring knight in the Burgandian Guard. He has incredibly keen senses and unlike most of the Guard, he possesses a heart. He struggles constantly with his morals and his duty as a minion of Lord Arachna.
Zayne Kangus: Also a knight in the Guard. He is reckless, and at times, humorous. His loyalty to his crew is unparalleled; he is never seen without his best friend Alastair.
Forrd Atistra: A dominant member of Skarlot’s crew. Forrd is extremely brave, but retains his sense of caution. In the event of Skarlot’s absence, Forrd steps up to take charge.
Alastair L’Adomstre: The brawn of Skarlot’s crew who completely adheres to his section leader’s commands. He was a large soldier, in which his body size coincided with the size of his heart. His loveable nature made him an easy target; he was slain in the war against Tanjerine.
Auros Kraton: A vicious captain in the Burgandian Guard. His fiery, blood red hair is an obvious link to his temper. He is normally seen with Ceda, but the two are hardly companions. He adapts the majority of Arachna’s instructions so that they become more ‘fitting’ for his unique ‘style’ (orders provided by Arachna are usually, and astonishingly, too lenient for him).
Ceda Djinn: A white-haired swordsman in the Burgandian Guard. He is underestimated constantly, for even as a lowly recruit, his talent with a sword surpasses even Adrian Valium. He is quite literally the strong, silent type.
Karrie Augusta: Glenn’s previous girlfriend. She was paralyzed at the age of fifteen in a traffic accident. She has an extreme hatred for Glenn and anyone that he seems to care for. She is engaged to Aaron Ignacio and she has a son, Lance, whom is ten years old.
Aaron Ignacio: Karrie’s fiancé. His temper matches that of Crimson. He is muscular, tan, and has a maniacal personality, perfect for Karrie’s taste. Because of his ‘love’ for his wife-to-be, he loathes both Glenn and Lance.
Tiler Augusta: Karrie’s father. His wife passed away a few years after Karrie’s birth. After he and his daughter moved to Serrulean, Karrie was left to fend for herself; he drowned during his routine swim to the small islands just off the coast of Serrulean. He never forgave Glenn for what he had done to his precious daughter.
Adrian Valium: Glenn’s father. Adrian is a large man and he is talented in combat. He was well known for his unbelievable skill with a sword. He was Arachna’s most prized general in the past, and when Glenn had mentioned Adrian’s name, it brought back memories of the hardy general’s exploits. He is currently in Tanjerine, awaiting for the moment that the imminent war will erupt.
Kiera Valium: Glenn’s adoring mother. She was murdered by Adrian when Glenn was a very young boy. Her death was a traumatic event in Glenn’s past; he had loved his mother irrevocably and when she died, he was left alone with no one to cling to. She was extremely kind, but submissive, which had led to her downfall.
Garcia Bluntbrine: An adept sailor. He is a man about the age of forty, and at least 75% of his life had been consumed by the sea; he spends days upon days away from land, although he constantly thinks of his son, Ross, worried that he may be in some sort of harm. Alas, being the father of a Burgandian soldier is a stressful duty.
Ross Bluntbrine: A highly acclaimed intelligence officer for Burgandy. He is young, but skillful in the ways of the axe. Many lives have been preserved because of his expertise (Burgandian lives, of course). He too misses his father, nearly as much as the good-hearted Garcia does, and thoughts of his mother pulse through his mind in a consistent manner; the image he has adopted for her is flawless despite the fact that the boy had never been acquainted with his mother, Sighrene.
Atticus Aoi: An endearing father. His love for both his children and late wife was boundless. He was a proficient metalworker in the city of Tanjerine. He had crafted an extremely articulate arm for Glenn when our hero had unfortunately lost his right limb during his struggle with the Midgard Serpent. Atticus was slain in the recent war in Tanjerine, however, his daughters survived.
Ruby Aoi: An adorable redhead. She is the more reserved sister, which spares her much grief during the course of Glenn’s journey. She is kind, but has high standards for her sister, whom usually can not live up to her expectations. She was affected the most when her mother died, yet did not surrender to her emotions when the same fate fell upon her poor father.
Crystal Aoi: A loveable eight-year-old. She had acquired most of her father’s traits: the sky blue hair, the sapphire eyes, and the amiable attitude. She was the closest to her father, so it was only natural that she felt the strongest when he died valiantly on the battlefield. She loves her sister, but after the death of Atticus, she abandoned her previously outgoing personality for one that resembled that of her sister’s.
CHARACTER INFO~
Glenn Valium: A courageous combatant, a sensual lover, an amiable companion, and a trusting father (pretty much the ideal for a melodramatic hero). Due to his rough past, he had attained dishonorable traits, mainly his alcoholism, and had endured many a battle and triumphed over enemies that had hacked off various limbs and slashed countless scars into his rock-hard body. He is a resilient man, constantly fending off those who want him dead. He falls in love with Natasha, whom shows equal compassion, but is ultimately bested by the murderous General Crimson because of his affection toward the gorgeous woman.
Natasha Radian: A beautiful cleric. She had been rich during the time of her childhood, but after being pampered for sixteen years, she ran away from her life in hopes of starting anew in the country of Mayvel. Once she becomes involved with Glenn, there is no turning back; she falls head over heels in love. She tries to sacrifice her own life to save him, but Glenn refuses to allow such a thing.
Arachna Recluse: An oddly likeable tyrant. He may be terrifyingly inhumane, but his scatterbrained persona gives him the appearance of being almost pitiable. This outer shell is merely a façade; he rules Burgandy with an iron fist, allowing no indiscretion to go unpunished.
Drey Crimson: A highly irritable Burgandian general. His scarlet hair and eyes strike fear into any adversary, and his personality chills his opponents to their very bones. He is a huge man with bulging muscles, towering over the heads of every soldier that stands at his side (and against him, for that matter). He has acquired an undeniable hatred for Glenn Valium, mainly because he had survived during their little squabble. Arachna had ordered him to dispose of Glenn, and Crimson intends to do so.
Myke Avarice: An impish rogue residing in Burgandy. His rebellious nature was induced when his beloved father, Dorobou, was defeated by the current lord of Burgandy (Taran). Left without a parental figure, Myke had to live on his own, and as a child of merely seven, he was unable to survive without reverting to a life of thievery. He is a loyal companion, proving to be most helpful in Glenn’s quest to dethrone the corrupted Lord Arachna.
Keiken Sonoja: An elderly denizen of the city of Burgandy. He was kind, curious, and a bit senile. His loyal companion, Lily, was by his side at all times. He was murdered by Crimson in an attempt to provoke Glenn’s rage.
Dierks Laertes: An eccentric young man, about the age of twenty. He was small, with oddly colored hair (white) and clothing. He too was kind and did not hesitate to help Glenn and the alluring Natasha during their time of need. He was executed by Auros Kraton because of his transgression.
Skarlot Obsidian: An aspiring knight in the Burgandian Guard. He has incredibly keen senses and unlike most of the Guard, he possesses a heart. He struggles constantly with his morals and his duty as a minion of Lord Arachna.
Zayne Kangus: Also a knight in the Guard. He is reckless, and at times, humorous. His loyalty to his crew is unparalleled; he is never seen without his best friend Alastair.
Forrd Atistra: A dominant member of Skarlot’s crew. Forrd is extremely brave, but retains his sense of caution. In the event of Skarlot’s absence, Forrd steps up to take charge.
Alastair L’Adomstre: The brawn of Skarlot’s crew who completely adheres to his section leader’s commands. He was a large soldier, in which his body size coincided with the size of his heart. His loveable nature made him an easy target; he was slain in the war against Tanjerine.
Auros Kraton: A vicious captain in the Burgandian Guard. His fiery, blood red hair is an obvious link to his temper. He is normally seen with Ceda, but the two are hardly companions. He adapts the majority of Arachna’s instructions so that they become more ‘fitting’ for his unique ‘style’ (orders provided by Arachna are usually, and astonishingly, too lenient for him).
Ceda Djinn: A white-haired swordsman in the Burgandian Guard. He is underestimated constantly, for even as a lowly recruit, his talent with a sword surpasses even Adrian Valium. He is quite literally the strong, silent type.
Karrie Augusta: Glenn’s previous girlfriend. She was paralyzed at the age of fifteen in a traffic accident. She has an extreme hatred for Glenn and anyone that he seems to care for. She is engaged to Aaron Ignacio and she has a son, Lance, whom is ten years old.
Aaron Ignacio: Karrie’s fiancé. His temper matches that of Crimson. He is muscular, tan, and has a maniacal personality, perfect for Karrie’s taste. Because of his ‘love’ for his wife-to-be, he loathes both Glenn and Lance.
Tiler Augusta: Karrie’s father. His wife passed away a few years after Karrie’s birth. After he and his daughter moved to Serrulean, Karrie was left to fend for herself; he drowned during his routine swim to the small islands just off the coast of Serrulean. He never forgave Glenn for what he had done to his precious daughter.
Adrian Valium: Glenn’s father. Adrian is a large man and he is talented in combat. He was well known for his unbelievable skill with a sword. He was Arachna’s most prized general in the past, and when Glenn had mentioned Adrian’s name, it brought back memories of the hardy general’s exploits. He is currently in Tanjerine, awaiting for the moment that the imminent war will erupt.
Kiera Valium: Glenn’s adoring mother. She was murdered by Adrian when Glenn was a very young boy. Her death was a traumatic event in Glenn’s past; he had loved his mother irrevocably and when she died, he was left alone with no one to cling to. She was extremely kind, but submissive, which had led to her downfall.
Garcia Bluntbrine: An adept sailor. He is a man about the age of forty, and at least 75% of his life had been consumed by the sea; he spends days upon days away from land, although he constantly thinks of his son, Ross, worried that he may be in some sort of harm. Alas, being the father of a Burgandian soldier is a stressful duty.
Ross Bluntbrine: A highly acclaimed intelligence officer for Burgandy. He is young, but skillful in the ways of the axe. Many lives have been preserved because of his expertise (Burgandian lives, of course). He too misses his father, nearly as much as the good-hearted Garcia does, and thoughts of his mother pulse through his mind in a consistent manner; the image he has adopted for her is flawless despite the fact that the boy had never been acquainted with his mother, Sighrene.
Atticus Aoi: An endearing father. His love for both his children and late wife was boundless. He was a proficient metalworker in the city of Tanjerine. He had crafted an extremely articulate arm for Glenn when our hero had unfortunately lost his right limb during his struggle with the Midgard Serpent. Atticus was slain in the recent war in Tanjerine, however, his daughters survived.
Ruby Aoi: An adorable redhead. She is the more reserved sister, which spares her much grief during the course of Glenn’s journey. She is kind, but has high standards for her sister, whom usually can not live up to her expectations. She was affected the most when her mother died, yet did not surrender to her emotions when the same fate fell upon her poor father.
Crystal Aoi: A loveable eight-year-old. She had acquired most of her father’s traits: the sky blue hair, the sapphire eyes, and the amiable attitude. She was the closest to her father, so it was only natural that she felt the strongest when he died valiantly on the battlefield. She loves her sister, but after the death of Atticus, she abandoned her previously outgoing personality for one that resembled that of her sister’s.
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