Got to start somewhere, Solo

[MaxBlade]

((Solo))


“Spare some gold?” said the poor, man, leaning against the building. His clothes practically rags though he was still chubby, Fareron shook his head and sighed speaking slowly, “No…I don’t have any money, I wish I did have some to give you.” Fareron slowly walked away, listening to the man sigh. He wished he hadn’t had to lie to the man but it was what he had to do, plus it was kind of wierd to see a poor fat man. "Drunk Bastard" was all he could say.
He had just arrived in Scara Brae, this evening and had been here for about two hours, he had come for adventure, so far all he had found in this world was nothingness, yes beautiful countries and all he was sure but if you didn't have ayone to share it with other then the ground and air what fun was it, he needed a good friend. He sighed again sleepily. Dusk was slowly moving in and the people that inhabited the city were slowly disappearing. Going there ways, into the bars to get rid of depression, to homes as not to leave their children there.

Fareron though, he had no where to go, at least not yet. He had hoped that he would be able to find an inn to stay in to go to sleep tonight; so far he had been unsuccessful. Either they didn’t have room or there were not any Inn’s on this block. He shook his head, the “Sandman” as his mom usually called it when he was still a little jinn, was slowly coming to his eyes. It felt like a fingernail was stuck in the eyelid then when you rubbed it it felt like sand. They started to water, blurring his vision, he couldn’t see for a second. He put both his hands up to rub his eyes, thought he knew it would make it worst, just the feeling of rubbing them made it better. The next thing he knew he was on the ground. The air did not swoosh out of him as you would expect, being an air djinn meant he was made of air, blows and drowning of the sort did not work on him, but it still hurt when you fail and your head hit the ground.

“Well it looks like we got him!” Said a gruff voice. With his hands tied around his head he couldn’t see nor make a move to stop the man who had spoken. “Yeah we got him, now let’s check him.” This was a smooth voice definitely different from the last. At this point Fareron didn’t know how many people were around him.

“Check him boss what do ya mean.” The gruff voice said, even though his control of his limbs were still unavailable, he did have control of the wind, taking it and using his mind he started to move the wind up and down the man, but he lost his concentration as one of them kicked him in the ribs, a sharp intake of air was all he got before one jumped on him.

He felt them start to vigorously go through his white robes. They would take his money! He couldn’t let that happen. He started to wiggle and move, trying to throw the man off, but he knocked him in the face one time, his fingers digging in his eyes, the pain of dirty fingernails screwing up your eyes is unimaginable. “Stop moving ya little snake” it was the gruff voiced man on top of him, his scratchy voice sounding like sand paper rubbing on wood. “Get the money and let’s go Terra!” it was the boss, who spoke this time, but Terra as was his name, had still not found his cache. It was time for him to leave though, and with that he called upon the wind to lift him into the air. He then flipped over, making the man fall a great height. Screaming and flailing to no avail he fell. Hitting the ground, with a loud crack as a part of his bones broke and a thud, praise to the fatness of his body.

Fareron raised his hands. The ropes around them were not that tight, the only reason he couldn’t get out was because of his arms being on the ground. Fareron’s eyes flashed open with a loud crack of thunder, a cacophony to the man standing below. Fareron’s callous eyes took the man by surprise, most heroes were supposed to be nice to the bad guys. Long experience with criminals’ pleas for mercy had made Fareron understandably unfeeling towards them though. The buffoon did not know Fareron. AS the man cried out to Fareron with loud pleas, and then with a capricious look his attitude changed in a second as Fareron slowly drifted down out of the dark blue sky, the boss man slowly cajoling, and appealing to Fareron, or at least he tried. The last thing the man saw, was Fareron slowly pulling out a white disk, looking like an item made in heaven, and then it was sticking out of his back. Three days later his body was found washed up in the bay of Scara Brae.

[MaxBlade]

Bending down in the green grass, Fareron slowly wiped the blood off of his weapon, this time staying aware of his surroundings, or at least trying to. He stood up slowly looking around for any more hooligans that might want to take him on. The moon fully iluminating the night. The fat man was still lying there on the ground moaning, it seemed like his arm was broken, being twisted at a weird angle. “Ohhhh, help me, my arm, I can’t feel my arm.” Fareron kicked him in his ribs flipping him over, the man yelped in pain as his arm was adjusted from its original position. Blood was streaming down his face, clogging up at his nose. Puffy and snotty, from the tears coming down his chubby cheeks,

His nose seemed to be broken to. Pathectic he should have killed him right then. “Oh shut up you rat bag.” Fareron said. Fareron’s took a closer look at the man and smirked, “Go Figure” it was the beggar he had saw not to long ago when he was walking along the streets. “You humans are so funny.” Then with a wave, Fareron spent around on his heel marching off on his leading left foot, his cloak spiraling out behind him.

The city looked glorious at night time, especially if you were out by yourself. The full moon radiating off of the roof tops some clean some dirty, and dulling the glow of the moon was the thick gaseous clouds floating dreamily around in the sky. The dirt road, black in the night the little rocks stuck in the dirt looking like diamonds glowing in a mine. The wind ruffling Fareron’s hair, giving him a feeling of ease, a tingling at his finger tips as the winds gathered around him, sensing his affinity for them. He gathered the winds and at his call they came to him, they knew him, they had become a big part in his travels from country to city to continent.

He was startled out of his thought by a petite little voice, with a sort of whine. He stepped forward about two steps and turned around quick. Knife outstretched, he walked forward. It was a little man, about five three, he stood, there shaking his head left and right a little beard under his chin giving him the appearance of a Dwarf. “Excuse me I said. That was a nifty bit of battling you did back there, never like to get in fights with the types myself, knowing that those groups are always dangerous. You kill one they all come after you. Huh, I don’t think you wanted to do that.” Seeing as the man was no threat to his life, Fareron slowly sheathed his knife and then gasped as the man quickly pulled a knife from his pocket and was in front of Fareron with the knife pressed to his chin in three steps.

Blood sliding it’s way down the knife real slow like, it’s thick matter oozing out like a snake. The man augmented the cut in his neck blood now just spilling. “Also you need to never let your guard down in these parts.” Fareron reached for his knife only to find it was gone to his despair. The little man smiled and held up the plain knife that usually accompanied Fareron’s side. He also held up Fareron’s money bag, and then slowly backed away; an evil smile glinted upon his face. He then started to laugh.

[MaxBlade]

“I don’t see what’s so funny?” Fareron said slightly baffled at the man’s change of attitude, Fareron, had a slight grin on his face. The dwarf of a man, was still laughing, rolling on the ground now, but still holding onto the money bag. “I demand you give me my gold back, this instance.” Fareron said in a stern voice all thought of happiness gone now. He did not see what was so funny. The dwarf, was who had got up, after Fareron had spoken, was still holding his belly, sticking out about seven inches, his short vest, exposing the greasy hairs on his stomach. Salty tears streaming down his face glistening in the moon light. “All right boy…I give up it was just too funny.” He started laughing all over again. “You should have seen your face.” The little man twisted his face in such an odd manner that Fareron could not help but laugh himself. So there they were. Rolling on the ground not really caring who saw them, and like two good friends they held each other and laughed and cried at the same time. This must have went on for about a good five minutes, before one of them (The Dwarf) had sense enough to get up.

“Listen boy, I’m Terrace, I noticed you didn’t have a place to stay, seeing as I’ve been shadowing ya ever since you beat up those other two.” He said motioning behind him with his arm; they were a good distance from where the fight had taken place, about a good mile and half a half to be exact. “I’ll let you stay with me tonight, what do you say?”

Fareron looked around and then up in the sky, the thin shadowy clouds slowly drifting across the moon, Fareron had to decline. “I’m Sorry, I want be able to, I love the outside, and I don’t want to waste it by, sleeping in. Thank you for the offer though.” With that, Fareron jumped in the sky, tucking and rolling over, then flying away, waving at the tiny figure below. “Good-bye!” Shouted Fareron, Terrace the dwarf waved in reply, Fareron was sure he would be seeing a lot more of him though, it was somewhere in his gut.

He flew for a while, not knowing where to go next, but soon tired. He came from GUA traveling looking for adventure, and like he had been reminded time and time again, he didn’t need to find adventure, it found him. It didn’t seem to be having success though. He landed, in the middle of nowhere, a barren land to be exact. He decided he would rest here and continue on in the morning, when he would be refreshed. Little did he know it would be a long day.

[MaxBlade]

A splash of water doused the aroused flames, smothering them into oblivion. The only reminder of it was the tendrils of smoke slithering into the air like snakes. The magenta horizon, signifying the rising morning sun, cast an odd shadow on the ground of the different shrubs, occupying the land surrounding. The smoke tendrils slowly drifted to the east across the shifting dirt, meandering back and forth until they disappeared, a remembrance no more. Fareron, stood there in the midst of the pile of ashes, his robes in a heap on the ground, he stood there stark naked, he believed he had nothing to worry about, for anyone seeing him, except the bird and other animals. His hands were greasy from the rabbit that he had just eaten, his water bottle fool from a stream he had found in the middle of the night when relieving himself. A grunt of pleasure issued from his lips at the cool air blew past his ears and moved through his hair.

“The winds have changed, a taint is in the air, another being, the taint isn’t strong enough yet, and I will wait for him to come, if he means me harm, there will be a fight.” Fareron spoke to himself to give himself comfort more so then to inform, himself of a presence. What was the use of voice if one only used it when in company? He crouched and took up his robes. Donning the robes, along with his hat, he jumped into the air, feeling refreshed and the pain which had been on his neck from last night, alleviated from the water.

“Whatcha ya doing’ up dere,” shouted a gruff voice! Fareron startled lost his concentration and started to fall to the ground. “Wooah!” “It’s all right I gotcha ya!” said the dwarf, catching, the falling object being a human being, “Hello my pretty!” whispered the dwarf as he fell into the dwarf hands. Then he fainted.

[MaxBlade]

Fareron woke up with a start the bright sun was already beating down, what was he doing lying in the dirt, what was he doing in the middle of nowhere? He cursed silently and thought, what happened. The night before, two man, a killing almost getting robbed, no room in the inns. Damn it would happen to him he knew now. Last night he had almost gotten robbed, he killed a man met a little dwarf slept in the desert because there were no rooms in the inns, even though the dwarf had...the dwarf! He was here but where?

Fareron rolled over wincing as a pain shot through his side, "The stupid dwarf dropped me, in my good robe too!"

"Hey Terrace, where ya be? Why the hell you drop me." He looked around all was quite, somewhere in the distance a crow cawed. The screech, an annoying sound no less a signal, but something was wierd about it, it didn't sound exactly like a crow. Another crow, off to the west, he heard feet padding, then they stopped, Fareron was kind of scared now he whispered urgently, "Terrace...this is not funny! Come out right now, this is not a good idea of a joke." Fareron slowly got up, cautiously looking around, his arm numb from laying on it.

"Lay back down boy," came a whisper from the sand, Fareron turned around concentrating on the ground around him, "What the hell, who's there?" "It's me Terrace get down, the marauders are here!"

What the heck were marauders, was all Fareron could think, the next second he knew. His feet were sweeped of the ground by a rope, the n he was being pulled through the dirt by a rope and horse, his face hitting the ground with unpleasent bumps, wounds now burning his face, he couldn't believe his luck he should have been aware of his surroundings!

How many times would he tell him self that, life sucked he thought but still life had to go on.

(finish later got to get off.)

[MaxBlade]

He sat there in a chair. Not his chair exactly because he didn’t have a lot of stuff that belonged to him but took a lot of stuff that belonged to other people. So it was a chair, not his. The man wore a hat over his face, casting an odd shadow that made him more mysterious, and somehow strikingly cool. His hand was resting against his chin, and there was an air about him letting you know he was the boss. The room he sat was ragged, it could have been a bar long ago, but now it was just a old building with a broken window and a few chairs, some over turned tale and an old couch. This was his humble abode, yeah raggedy but his mates like it, they were loyal and would do anything for him, but a while ago he had found that one of his man died, killed by some sorcerer. He decided he had a few tricks for him. That was one of his best men, he didn’t want him to die, but now he was gone, this was just his luck. He would torture him; yeah that’s what he would do. Torture him, let him get ruffled then…really hurt him. He had already gave his man the instruction on what to do they would be followed.

He stood up from his desk and brushed off his vest and cotton shirt, smiling because he knew what was in store. The Zirnden! With that he was off.

[Witchblade]

The length of this quest does not mermit a judgement nor the reward of experience. It shall be closed and placed in the Archives.