Mentoring A Youth

[Koran]

It was a cold morning, the frost hanging on at the tips of the tall shafts of wheat glistening faintly in the early sunlight. There was a bite to the air, crisp and to the point, and faint tendrils of mist, brought on by the instantaneous crystallization of warm air molecules escaping from the warm cavity of a human or otherwise warm blooded creature, filled the air as the small village's people set about their morning business. Each man had a task, each woman an objective, each child a worm that he must catch, or a doll that she must play with. Dogs, massive, lumbering beasts that were more often than not over fed and overly loved, lolled about, rolling their eyes lazily about; watching man, woman, child and the occasional other dog stride by with out much incident. It was a calm morning, and one that was not far out from the ordinary. Except, for one flaw.

This flaw, of course, was the presence of an otherwise indistinguishable figure who stood leaned against a barber's alley wall, his cold as death black eyes staring blankly out in front of him. Or, at least, that was how they looked to be facing. It was a perk to having no iris's or pupils of any kind, you could never know where exactly or what exactly the figure was looking at. A very helpful mechanical flaw in the otherwise flawless body that was the figure. His mouth curled up into a snarl and he licked his lips. A dog, trailing diligently behind three small boys who were playing a stick and hoop game, paused for a moment to sniff the air toward the figure, growled for a second, then abruptly whinnied and trotted after the three boys, who were disappearing around a near by corner, their shouts of encouragement for whomsoevers's turn it was at the hoop, loud in the confines of the alley.

The figure abruptly yawned, his massive hand nearly disappearing whole into his mouth, gapping open like some great crater in a forgotten field or some long unexplored range of hills and mountains, and had to wipe his eyes to prevent them from tearing. A new feature that, if you could call it a feature. Perhaps more like a psychological downgrade really. Along with his new green blood, coursing through columns and tubes that served as veins, arteries, and capillaries beneath his skin, his flesh had started to take on a more 'human' skin tone to it, had started to develop sweat glands, and his eyes had begun forming tear glands. It was a slow process, if not a little painful, and it was steadily wearing on his nerves. He had always driven himself to be more like a human, but he had never wanted to really become a human. Becoming human meant becoming mortal, and despite him having lived a good 99.99% of his life in a cramped bubble for a ship, he had taken on the persona that he was immortal and he wanted it to stay that way. So far, since his re-awakening and re-emergence into mainstream life, he had narrowly escaped death twice, died at least four times, and been mortally wounded once. Those deaths were rectified by the kind monks and a part of him was silently wondering if they had anything to do with his slow and steady progression towards mortality. He shrugged uncomfortably in his shirt and rubbed his arms briskly. That was another thing, he was beginning to feel the cold and it was only a matter of time before he was acting just like everyone else around him. Bundled up in the cold, stripped near to nakedness in the heat. He shook his head and mumbled silently to himself, then reasserted his attention on the main road beyond him.

Sooner or late that boy would show his face and then it would be back to doing what he hated doing but seemed to enjoy so much. Teaching someone else a lesson in mortality, as well as pain and justice.

((Closed.))

[Bernard]

Bernard inhaled sharply, which earned him a most undeserved hacking cough that sprayed spittle all over the back of his horse's neck - the animal shook its head violently, nearly throwing him from the saddle - and then rubbed his nose to rid it of a long in the making drip of snot. This in turn caused him to snort as much of it back into his throat, where he promptly swallowed it with a loud gulp. Someone walking next to him and his horse gave him a strange look before hurrying on ahead of him and Bernard spared him one of his own before letting the look pass from his mind. His eyes, and thoughts, instead diverted themselves back to scanning the light crowd of people ahead and beside him as he entered into the main village square. A small thing it was, with a single large square of brown-green grass that looked to have seen better days. A cow, thin almost to the look of starvation, was tethered to a tall poll with a long rope in the center of the square, and was steadily working on a not so good looking patch of grass on the far south side. On either side of this pole was a set of two benches, hand carved by the looks of it, and well done too, where people or children, whom had wearied their feet, could rest themselves and catch up with each other on that days happenings or perhaps to invent a new game. Every where else, well, to say the least, everything was pretty much normal. Nobody screaming about someone dying, noone running in circles because some stranger had come into town and was stirring things up. It was just a normal, quiet and peaceful little town.

“So why the fuck did he want to come here,” Bernard mumbled to himself. Just then a hollow stick took him across the left ear.

“Now back in my day, when a young man such as yourself used such language as that,” an old and grating voice said from behind the hunched over and coughing Bernard. “You’d’a gotten a whole lot worse then a flick behind the ear.”

Bernard, having regained his balance and equilibrium, straightened and turn to confront the withered old woman who had switched him.

“My apologies Ma’am, I will guard my tongue the next time.”

The old woman sniffed pointedly, as though not believing that he would - which, he wouldn’t, except around her or any other said older female citizen of this community. “See that you do, or it won’t be just a flick.” And then, without another word, the old woman hobbled off shouting at a group of kids who were terrorizing some massive dog with a stick and hoop. Personally, Bernard though the kids were just having a good time. He shook his head and went back to scanning the crowd.

He said to meet him here just after sun rise, but I don’t see any sign of him.

Not that he would, the man being a shape shifter and all. Bernard sighed abruptly and gathered the reins of his horse Wind and started toward the benches. Well, he wasn’t one to go searching futilely around in bars or taverns when the man could be standing right behind him, perhaps even as that old woman, as sick as the idea might sound, so he was going to make the best of it and get a little rest before he did whatever it was that he was going to do today. He sat heavily down onto the bench and propped his foot up onto his knee and set about to wait. No harm in waiting, in fact, half the time it was fun.

Just hope he doesn’t take too fucking long.

[Koran]

Right on schedule.

The figure stepped out from its vantage point and strode purposefully and swiftly over to where the horsemen had propped his feet up to take a rest. The little stunt with the old woman had caused the figure to laugh a bit but he held no pity for the man. One should always know better then to use foul language in a place like this, especially with and around the older women folk. To do otherwise was just plain stupid. But perhaps, based on this boys reaction, he hadn't known as much and could honestly say he didn't know and might get away with it. Not likely, but still a feasible possibility. The figure stopped behind the horsemen, still unnoticed and spoke aloud.

"I see you made good time, this is good. We have a long day ahead of us and we need not waste our time here with sitting and playing with old ladies. Gather your horse and follow me out of this place."

And then, without another word otherwise, the figure turned on his heel and strode the other way. The horseman would follow, perhaps a little while after, probably needing to get over his jumping heart and fraying nerves at being surprised, but he would nonetheless follow. He had no where else to go. Besides, if he hadn't taken him in the fool would have probably immersed himself into the nearest and deepest bottle of brandy he could find and would have gotten himself killed on top of that. Losing one's supposed true love can do that to a man.

The figure didn't slow his pace once he was free of the confines of the tiny village; didn't slow his pace for a whole five miles.

[Bernard]

It wasn't the fact that the man had scared the living hell out of Bernard that had him all flustered and fuming by the time they stopped, it was the fact that the man hadn't bothered to ask him how he was doing or even sit to talk for a while. Not that they really had anything to talk about, but it would have been nice to be at the least, some what civilized when surrounded by a bunch of prying eyes and muttering mouths. The man had no sense of propriety and it was steadily beginning to wear on Bernard's nerves.

The place they stopped looked nothing like a training ground and everything like the barley fields Bernard had grown up in. All wide open space, a few low hills and the occasional fence or river stone wall that ran for miles in each direction, disappearing somewhere over the horizon or over the next closest hill. From here he thought he could even make out the obscured shape of a distant farm house and adjoining barn, but he couldn't be sure. It was still quite early in the morning and he was facing into the sun and it was glaring into his eyes, causing him to squint. He instead shifted his eyes away from the sun and focused them on his companion.

"Exactly what are we doing today again?" His tone was riddled with his families curse for squeaks and it was something he hated to his very core. His father had had them well into his thirties, or so his mother had said, and Bernard was sure he was still getting the occasional squeak every now and then. He on the other hand, sounded like a fresh thirteen year old after his first erection and too over excited to realize that it wasn't too special a thing. So as soon as his last words left his mouth he snapped it shut and tried not to blush.

He could see already, that this was going to be a very long day. Very long.

[Koran]

"You can't tell me you've forgotten already!?"

Koran rounded on the boy in a mock semblance of fury. His eyes drawn to near closing as he squinted, his brows drawn down until they nearly covered his eyes and his mouth twisted into a very nasty snarl.

"After all that talk of wanting to learn, and be strong like your new 'hero!' Well, we're here to fulfill that strange dream of yours, and today's that day."

Koran relaxed his face and suddenly smiled, crossing his arms across his chest as he did so.

"Now, first thing on my list of skills to do, is to teach you how to effectively ride that horse. Nothing real serious right now mind, but basic riding skills. So, first things first, lets see how well you do at a gallop."

[Bernard]

"A gallop?"

He can't be serious, can he?

The look on his face had certainly spoken volumes about his seriousness. Angry and on the warpath one instant, calm and collected and deadly serious the next. Bernard was suddenly trying hard to realize exactly who it was he had attached himself too and in one abrupt, and all seeing instant he realized he hadn't a damn clue.

I may have associated myself with a murderer and I would never know until it's too late.

The calm black eyes of the man stared death into Bernard and he felt very cold. Very, very cold. He gulped and gnawed at his reins with his hands.

"Gallop. Right, I'll see what I can do."

Staring straight ahead and taking a deep breath, letting it out slowly through his nose, Bernard plotted a path for him and his horse to follow, gave the man one last almost helpless look, then kicked his heels into the hindquarters of the animal and took off at a full gallop.

~~~~

6 hours later

~~~~

"Oh my fucking god, my crotch!"

Bernard, huddled over himself next to a small fire, screamed in wordless fury and cupped his burning genitalia. Who knew that falling from a horse at a full gallop, getting your foot caught in the stirrup and being dragged for a few yards, would hurt your crotch so bad. He screamed again.

"My fucking god, this fucking hurts! Dammit, can't we take a break now?"

He screamed again and went back to cupping his precious life.

[Koran]

5 hours, 58 minutes and 32 seconds after initiation of training

~~~~

It was quite a spectacular fall really. An hour into the exercise Koran, having been satisfied by Bernard's slight skill at handling a horse while in a gallop, had changed course and instructed him to begin jumping the animal over obstacles. It was a gigantic leap forward so far as skills were concerned, but Koran wasn't a patient person and had figured out - if only known by himself - that the best way to learn something, was to learn it through screwing it up so much that you just simply didn't screw up to avoid the pain of screwing up. So far, it had worked. At least, it had right up until the boy fell.

~~~~

6 hours, 2 minutes and 27 seconds after initiation of training

~~~~

"It will heal, but you are right. And the horse needs to rest. We will take rooms in the village inn and resume in the morning."

Koran stood and began kicking the fire out with his foot. He looked down at the huddle form of his impromptu student and suddenly smiled.

"You did well for your first day, perhaps tomorrow will be better."

He finished snuffing the fire out and gathered up his sword, which he had discarded soon after beginning the training. He shouldered the massive blade and set off down the road. The boy would probably throw himself into the saddle and follow in short order. The boy could still walk, he hadn't ripped anything so far as Koran knew. And if he did, well, the town healer should be able to do something about it.

The sun still sat high in the sky so he'd have a good long time to rest up, and rest up he would, for tomorrow it'd be a whole other lesson in pain.

[Bernard]

Resting, at least for Bernard, turned out to be more of a hassle and hindrance than a true help. It all started with the ride home, or perhaps it should have been called the 'Yelling-and-screaming-oh-my-fucking-god-it-hurts-shit-make-it-stop-ride-home.' But this of course was only Bernard's opinion, and his companion and teacher, Koran, had made it pointedly clear early on in their strange friendship, that his opinion did not count. So Bernard was left to face his pain with as much dignity as he could still muster, after all it was his balls that were the ones complaining about being hurt, and try really, really hard not to scream.

He almost made it back to the village.

~~~~~

7 hours, 12 minutes and fifty-seven seconds after initiation of training

~~~

Aunt Claire's house, self proclaimed Healer and Worker of Divine Arts

~~~~~

Bernard cursed himself until he was blue in the face and quivering with rage instead of pain. Aunt Claire, as she was so daintily called in this village, was in fact, the same old woman who had clocked him square on the head earlier for cussing when amongst the village children. He earned no less for cussing this time and received the same lecture, if a bit more forceful with that hallow stick of hers.

If she keeps this up, Bernard thought between wicked blows to the thighs and buttocks from that woman and her hallow stick. I'll have more than just my crotch to worry about. One last stinging blow landed square in the small of his back, causing him to arch involuntarily, which in turn sent a searing jolt of pain through his groin and caused him to grunt loudly and double over moaning.

"Serves you right, you young scallywag!"

"Such colorful language," Bernard whispered hoarsely. He winced as another blow from the woman landed across his shoulder blades. "All right, all right!" He wheezed painfully, lifting a hand to try and ward off any more blows the woman might decide to deliver. "I get it, I get it. I'll stop." His voice died half way through the fourth syllabled and he was reduced to a hoarse wheezing and a little bit of coughing.

"See that you do," the old woman snapped and then leveled her stick at everyone else in the room. "Off with yous, I need not any of your help with him. I can handle myself."

"Don't worry," Bernard whispered. "I'll be good." A third blow took him across the shoulders. God fucking dammit she's a bitch!

Someone laughed and he shot a glare around everyone in the room. He opened his mouth to say something, but the old woman beat him to the punch, shouting "Get out!" before he could even move his tongue.

Everyone complied that time, scurrying out of the building like startled hens, and in a very short period of time all that was left was him, the chair he was in, her and that stupid stick. She smiled wickedly and squared herself to him.

"Right, now lets see what has you all up in a fuss. Drop 'em."

"Excuse me?" Bernard whispered hoarsely.

"You heard me boy, I said 'Drop 'em.' I can't fix you if I don't know what's wrong. Now, off with those drawers!"

I'm so glad there isn't anyone here to see this.

Finally, after staring at the woman, stunned for a few seconds, Bernard came to his senses and stood slowly, grimacing the whole way up. The woman, as much as he hated to admit it, had a point. She couldn't diagnose him if she couldn't see the problem. So he slowly undid his laces, blushing furiously the whole time, and slowly let them fall to the ground.

"Those too," the vile old woman said, gesturing with her stick.

Aww, come on! "Dammit," he muttered under his breath. An eyebrow rose on the woman and he held his hands up defensively. "Sorry, sorry. I'll try to keep it under control." Sighing, Bernard grabbed a hold of his under clothes, paused for a moment to inhale deeply, and then in one swift motion, as though to try and save himself from complete embarrassment, pulled them down in one fell swoop.

"My my my," the woman crooned after he had straightened. "Would you look at that. Hmmmm," she began to tap a finger on her chin. Standing there, studying him! Bernard had never felt so embarrassed in his entire life!

Keep it together man, keep it fucking together!

She moved forward.

Oh god this is so, fucking, stupid!

"I'll need gloves for this."

"Uhha!?"

The woman had already moved however, and before Bernard could so much as ask a second incoherent question, the woman had donned a pair of thin work gloves and was already moving back toward him. He caught a glimpse of her eyes and his eyes widened as wide as they could go, in pure terror.

Oh god!

Her hand moved, and he began to scream.

[Koran]

Koran winced at the old woman who was brandishing her stick like a sword. A dangerous woman that, and one he really didn't mind leaving alone to her vices. He did feel a pang of regret however, at leaving Bernard with the woman, but it was only a small regret. After all, it was mostly his fault and Koran needn't be held accountable for his students actions. At least, that's what he thought of the matter.

"Lucky lad," a man mumbled next to Koran. Well past his prime, the man looked like some strange piece of raw hide stretched thin over a too large frame and left to bake endlessly in a never setting sun. His hair had long since been bleached white and one of his eyes was covered in a milky gray haze. Koran lifted an eyebrow toward the man as he turned away from closing the door.

"How so?" He asked in a cold, neutral tone. No matter how hard he tried, he never could take that cold edge from his voice. Must be a program thing.

"He's not got a hair on him."

"What!?" His voice lost its edge and took on a tone of bewilderment. "What do you mean, not a hair on him?"

"Why, his legs and cheeks. You can't tell me you didn't see that?"

Koran stared at the old man, his mouth gaping open and his eyes bulging. A few moments later he came too and shook his head, making sounds of shock, confusion and denial.

"Of course I saw," he finally said. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to talk about it," he finished quickly, hoping the old man didn't get any strange ideas. Instead of ideas however, the old man just got a gleam in his good eye and began laughing.

"No worries lad, just an old man remembering the old days. Aunt Claire didn't used to always be all skin and bones and business. No, once upon a time she used to be the talk of the whole town."

Shock faded and Koran regained his former dignity, or at least enough of it to put on a stern, neutral face. "Why are you telling me this old man?" His tone was as cold as ever and his black eyes stared death into the old mans good one.

The old man shrugged. "Just making conversation I guess."

There was a moment of silence, the two of them standing just outside Aunt Claire's door, staring at each other like two strange dogs in the same room and as of yet still unsure of the others intentions. Just as the silence was beginning to gnaw at Koran, just as he was about to open his mouth to say something along the lines of 'I don't have time for this,' a scream shook the door down to its hinges.

"God dammit, what the fuck is she doing?" Koran roared as he bounded toward the door. His hand reached for the knob and suddenly the old man was there, pushing vainly against the chest of the much larger man trying to trample past him.

"Leave her be boy! She's knows what she's doing!"

Koran paused only enough to pick the man up and set him as gently aside as he could. No sense in killing the man, that'd only get the town watch on his ass and he didn't want that. His hand went for the knob and again the old man was there, this time pushing himself up against the door and holding onto Koran's hand with all his strength. Which, didn't amount to much but it was enough that Koran had to stop what he was doing and pay attention to it.

"Get out of my way old man. If that boy dies in there, I'll hold you two accountable and not take any second thoughts in killing you." He pulled his hand away but by some strange token of luck, the old man held it tight and it didn't budge.

"You've no idea what you're dealing with should you walk in there. She'll run you up and down the whole town for interfering with her and her art. Then she'll do it a second time just to make sure the point sticks. She knows what she's about, best to let her to her craft. Your lad will be right as rain come tomorrow and if he's lucky, won't remember how exactly he got hurt or how exactly it was that he got healed. We've had one man remember that and let's just say, he didn't last the night."

"What do you mean, 'Didn't last the night?'"

The old man swallowed and flicked his eyes about the room, not wanting to meet Koran's. His grip on the hand didn't slacken.

"Well, let's just say it drove him insane and he threw himself off a cliff because of it. There's a reason she calls herself a Worker of Divine Arts. If people found out what that was really about, they'd kill her on the spot, regardless of how many lives she's saved. That's why she uses a amnesia spell. Only this amnesia, doesn't fade. It stays, forever."

Koran stared down at the man and felt his anger beginning to fade. The screams had slowly been fading during the mans speech, and now were only a few grunts every now and then. Koran growled and yanked his hand away from the old mans grip. The man flinched, readying himself for a strike or to be pushed aside, but Koran did neither. Instead he flexed his hand and then stuck it out towards the old man.

"Pitiful way to meet, but my name's Koran Vincent. I'd be honored to know yours."

The old man didn't hesitate in sticking his own out and gripping Koran's. "Joel Norris be my name, shoveling crap be my game. I work in the stables behind Aunt Claires."

"Ahhh," Koran said taking his hand away quicker than he would have liked. He rubbed it unconsciously on his shirt, as thought wiping away filth. He stopped himself quickly and covered it up by scratching his chest. He hoped the man hadn't noticed. He quickly spoke up, hoping to distract the man.

"Would you, by any chance, care to join me for a drink?"

"A drink?"

"No, a bar mitzvah. Yes, a drink! Brandy, if you'll take it."

The old man suddenly smiled broadly. "A brandy sounds about right. Let me gather my cloak and we can be along."

With that the old man departed the presence of Koran, muttering to himself about what the hell a bar mitzvah was, and disappeared into a back room. A few seconds later he reemerged throwing a worn and beaten woolen cloak around his shoulders and motioned for Koran to follow.

"I know the perfect place," he said behind a smile.

Koran only nodded absently and after giving the door one last fleeting glance, turned to follow the man. Sure hope the kid's alright.

[Bernard]

While Koran was out enjoying a nice, warm and soothing mug of ale, Bernard, the wounded horseman, was dealing with a crazed bitch of a woman, who had inadvertently invented her very own version of hell, just for him. It all started when she began her 'autopsy' of Bernard's wounds.

~~~~

"Oh shut up," the woman growled between Bernard’s pitched screams. "I haven't even touched you yet."

The screams died away and were instead replaced with periodical whining and sobbing. The woman grunted and pulled a stool from the back wall, placing it in front of Bernard and sitting on it to grant a better view of the damage. She was gentle, more gentle than Bernard would have first thought, and she had years of experience and after a few moments sighed and leaned back.

"Well," she said as she peeled the thin gloves from her hands, tossing them into a large rubbish bin against the back wall where the stool had been. "It doesn't look like you seriously tore anything, aside from some skin." She then stood up and moved to another wall, this one filled top to bottom with shelves, vials and bottles, skulls of dead animals, necklaces and all other sorts of abstract items of antiquity or of healing attributes. Her hand hovered for a moment over a few vials and bottles before finally stopping and picking up a cream colored one that was filled with some sort of liquid. She then undid the stopper, gave the bottle a quick sniff, wrinkled her nose, replaced the stopper and then replaced the bottle back on the shelf. She repeated this process for the next six bottles until she finally settled on a long, slender tube of glass that was filled with a red bubbling concoction. She smiled broadly and brought the tube to a still standing, still half naked, still very red in the face Bernard and proffered it toward him.

"Drink this," she said simply. Bernard, skeptical of the woman since the beginning, hesitated and half extended his hand.

"Why should I?" He asked slowly, his hand inching toward the tube, his face wary.

The woman scoffed. "You want to feel better?"

His hand drew closer to the tube. "Yes, I do, but what will this do for me?"

The smile returned. "Why, it'll turn you into a creature of untold evil. It's a vitality potion you idiot! Now drink it before I shove it down your throat!"

Bernard's hand darted toward the tube and he tipped it back, downing the whole thing in one go. The woman was fucking crazy! He let the tube drop from his face and then everything happened in a flash. He dropped the tube from his face and suddenly she was there, in a massive booming sound and spray of light, her entire face filled his vision. From the crazy glint in her pale green eyes, to the tiny hairs on the wart just below her left eye brow. There was a mad cackling in the air, like that cackling you get right after a lightning strike, and the room suddenly felt six times smaller than it really was. Her mouth opened and before Bernard could so much as flinch, or even cry out, his world exploded and abruptly went black.

~~~~~

12 hours, 27 minutes and 18 seconds after initiation of training

~~~~~

Bernard awoke with a scream, and sat bolt upright. So fast in fact, that the quilt comforter and sheet covering him flew off his body to land in a heap of cloth at the base of the massive canopy bed. He didn't notice it however, he was in a panic and his eyes were moving to fast for him to see anything clearly. A gray wash stand in front of a cracked mirror with a white porcelain bowl on his left, a large wooden rocking chair on his right, a long and short wardrobe in front of him and a large hanging chandelier full of doused candles above him. His breath abruptly caught and he hunched over, gagging on his own tongue, and coughing in an attempt to regain some air into his lungs. This continued for a few minutes, his mind hanging on the edge of sanity, his world spinning circles around him and his body trying to suck in air that just wasn't getting where it needed to be.

Something hit him hard on the back and he fell forward onto his face, air suddenly rushing into his lungs in a loud croak. He then lay there, panting loudly, regaining his equilibrium and trying to gather his senses and thoughts. When he finally sat up, he noticed that whomever it was who had slapped him on the back, was standing in front of him at the base of the bed.

"What the hell," he wheezed. "What the hell. . .was that. . .for!?"

"Can't have you die on me after I used so much effort just to keep you alive?" It was the old woman.

"I thought. . .thought you. . .you said. . .it wasn't. . .life threatening?" Air rushed into his lungs in a second, not so loud croak and he was reduced to a fit of coughing.

"Well, the wound itself wasn't life threatening, but the process to heal it certainly could have been. Which was why I had to knock you out."

Bernard wheezed and managed to get a few words in. "Knock. . .out. . .What?"

"Knock you out, that potion I gave you."

"Thought. . .it tasted. . .funny."

The woman abruptly laughed and hit him hard on the back again. This woman sure was physical with her 'sick' patients.

"Went out like a light you did." A chair creaked beside him and he guessed that she had stood up. "Well, after a few hours rest, perhaps a good nights sleep, you'll be right as rain. I'll come back in the morning and check on you and your friend. Good day."

And with that the heavy door to the room slammed shut and Bernard was left to lay on the bed, still wheezing slightly and not so sure of his equilibrium quite yet. He felt half inclined to just fall asleep right where he was. Waking up in a panic like that had taken his attention away from what he really should have been paying attention too, he was tired. Real tired. Almost like he had run a marathon and somehow finished without stopping. As crazy as it sounded, it certainly felt that way. Still, curiosity at that moment got the better of him and he sat up on shaky arms. He then lolled his head forward to inspect his hardware.

Not a damn thing wrong with them. It was at that very moment that he realized he was stark naked. And the old woman had not looked like the type to carry someone as big as him all by her lonesome. Which meant she had recruited outside help.

"Oh man," Bernard groaned as he flopped back onto the bed. "I can't believe this." He then rolled over and buried his face into the bed and before he could even consider sitting back up and rearranging himself decently, he fell fast asleep.

[Koran]

"Perfect place huh?"

"Why? Do you not like it?"

"No, not that. It's just, well, I'm used to better."

"Well lad, there ain't nothing better than this place, I can assure you!"

"If you say so old man, if you say so."

~~~~

7 hours, 38 minutes and 12 seconds after initiation of training

~~~~

That perfect place, as the old man so highly regarded it as, was a complete disaster. Koran would have counted himself lucky if he guessed right in saying the place only saw the business end of a broom only once a year, and that only after the keeper resolved to clean it more often at New Years. Perhaps not even as much as that. Ale and wine stains were on everything, even the clothes of the men and women sitting at the tables. Which, by the way, were so stained that it looked almost like they were naturally like that. The air was dank with smoke and various body odors, and a thick haze hung three feet below the ceiling, which mind, was only eight feet high, and caused that unlucky tall person to have to duck, or else suffocate on the fumes. Koran felt so lucky, to be unlucky.

He slammed his fist into his mouth to prevent it from biting his own tongue off when he coughed, and ducked low to avoid the haze. The old man, still bright eyed and bushy tailed about being invited to his favorite place for a drink, looked up at him with a confused look.

"Something wrong lad?"

"Oh no, Joel. Just enjoying a good huff of good ole smoke fumes." Koran gave the man a weak smile.

"Just don't that too often, could get yourself killed."

"Thanks for that helpful tid-bit of advice," Koran said in mock tones of thanks. The old man had the nerve to smile! Koran ground his teeth together and gestured toward the only semi-clean object in the entire common room, the counter. "Let's have a seat there."

Well, Joel would sit, Koran preffered to stand after taking a good long look at the state of the stools. No way one of those would hold his emmense weight, not that many could. He had a string of broken bar stools behind him, he needn't make that list longer here. The old man only gave him one sidelong look before ordering up two of the house's best. Which, not very surprisingly, turned out to be a very dark, very dirty looking concoction that smelled scraggly like peaches. The old man mumbled something about the best ale in the world then tipped his head and glass back, busying himself in drowning hisself in as much alcohol as humanly possible.

Well, Koran thought as he swirled his brew around. Couldn't hurt I guess. And with one final look at the old man, and a shrug of his shoulders, Koran tipped the glass to his lips and took a large swallow. The taste of peach exploded inside his mouth, along with a few hundred dozen other tastes - rat shit amongst them. Although Koran couldn't wonder how that got into the mix, he was pleasantly surprised at how good the ale actually was.

"Told ya," the old man cackled as he held out his glass for a re-fill. "And," he said around swallows of his second glass. "Because we only get locals in here to ever drink the stuff, it's free. This place makes most of its money on the rooms it rents out, which, despite the outward appearance, are quite clean and maintained."

"After tasting this," Koran said after a moment of staring into his now half empty glass. "I'm almost half inclined to believe you." The old man cackled again and tipped his glass back, downing the rest of his brew.

"Aaaah, nothing like a good ale to warm your bones. Second one?"

Koran shook his head, he was fine with what he had left. The old man nodded and graciously accepted his third drink. This time he consented and only took small sips. He then leaned back and propped his elbow up onto the counter and gave Koran one of those old people looks that said they were going to do a lot of talking, and not a bit of it would be about the here and now. Koran found that he was to be genuinely surprised by what the old man asked next.

"So where you from Koran? You're face don't look like anyone I've ever seen, and I've been just about everywhere there's to be."

Koran found that he was staring into his drink and he remained as such for a long time before answering.

"It's a long story old man, and one I'm not sure you'd much like hearing. Perhaps another time."

The old man scoffed. "Son, listen here. I've seen things, done things and even thought things that you've never even dreamed of doing. I've seen enough to fill three mens life times, with some left over. Now whatever you have to say, good, bad or simply just fucking ugly, I'm almost certain I can handle and with your friend in the shitcan for hurt, you with no where else to go, and me with a stable so full of shit I wouldn't mind just letting it rot, you've got more than enough time. Now, spit it before I get everyone over here to help you tell it." The old man tipped back his glass and took a long swallow. For a man of his age, his throat must have long gone dry and Koran took those few seconds to contemplate the mans words.

He has a point you know.

You!? Dammit, I don't have time for stories about a past I've no idea about.

Well, then humor the old man and tell him what you do know, just to pass time. Seems the only thing worth doing in this town is sitting around drinking or shoveling shit.

Heh, you have a point there.

I usually do.

You're like some perverted form of conscious, aren't you?

You could call me that.

Can I call you Jiminy Cricket?

Hahahaha, whatever floats your boat.

Right, right.

Coming out of his reprieve, Koran looked the old man straight in the eyes and smiled. "Well old man, I think I just convinced myself that telling you would in fact, not hurt you in the slightest."

"Hot damn kid, give at it!" The old man slammed his glass down onto the counter and leaned forward, an eager child awaiting an exciting bed time story from his mother. Koran could only chuckle. Then, after setting his own glass down onto the counter top, began telling the life story he knew.

"Well, it all started when I woke up in a laboratory test tube a very, very long time ago. . . ."

~~~~~

12 hours, 32 minutes and 13 seconds after initiation of training

~~~~~

". . . .and then I found myself here, with Bernard in tow, you for a drinking companion," he turned and gestured to the eagerly watching and listening crowd. "And you as an audience!"

They all roared with laughter and began clapping. Some even began whistling. The old man though, was the only one who was silent. Koran, unaware for the moment, raised his hand and nodded to the crowd before lifting his own many times refilled glass to his lips for a sip.

"One more thing, one more thing," he said loudly as the crowd quieted. "In all my years, and in all my travels, I have yet to encounter a crowd so eager as babes to hear a story, such as yourselves!" The all roared with drunken laughter, for even the most heavyweight drinker among them was already too far gone to even know what the word sober meant, and after a moment, Koran joined them too. Only the old man among them stayed silent, he hadn't touched his drink since he had it refilled for the third time. Koran noticed this after a few seconds and stopped laughing, turning his attention to him.

"Something troubles you old man, pray tell?" He lifted his mug to his lips and took another sip, waiting for the man to answer.

It took him a long time, the laughing of the common room goers dying to a muted buzz and his glass, being pushed around by knobby and many times broken finger, having gone up and down the counter three times, and when he did, it was in a quiet voice.

"It be your story lad. The way you told it, I know for true that each word be the truth, but there in lies the problem. It seem to far fetched for truth, and I is at conflict with myself believing it." He then looked up at Koran, his eyes big with wonder, confusion and strangely, a hint of fear. "Is it true lad? All that you said, be it the truth?"

Koran smiled. "Aye old man, it be the truth."

The old man suddenly smiled. "Well then, old man, I do have to say, this tops the list on things I've seen, heard or done that be strange."

Koran suddenly roared with laughter and slapped the man on the shoulder. "You call me old man one more time, old man and I'll show you exactly how old you are compared to me."

They both roared with laughter and picked up their glasses, raising them high.

"To life, liberty and that occasional old kook you meet while on the road to wherever," Koran intoned grandly. The old man smiled broadly.

"To finding a man older, but none the wiser than me!"

Their glasses clinked together and they downed the rest of their brew with loud sighs.

"Tender, another round for the house!" Koran's voice carried over the sudden shouts of agreement from the onlookers and the tender happily dished out more of his free brew. Koran and the old man resumed their laughter but found it suddenly catching in their throats as a very old, very frail and equally strong old woman wove her way through the crowd to where they were standing.

"He'll live," was all she said before she moved away and out of the building.

There was a stunned moment of silence between the two men, each watching the departing back of the old woman, before they stood as one and moved to the far side of the common room where there was a little privacy.

“What does she mean, ‘He’ll live?’” Koran asked in hurried, whispered tones. The old man looked around a few times before answering.

“I guess she means he doesn’t remember anything. Which from what I’ve heard, is a good thing.”

“A good thing?” Koran’s tone had taken a suspicious tone but the old man ignored it.

“It doesn’t matter, and it doesn’t concern you. He’s healed, and so far as we know, sane. Best we leave it that way. Now, if I remember correctly, he’ll be staying at her place until morning where she will check on his progress on last time before releasing him. He’s in good hands now.”

Koran growled and nodded, relaxing fists he hadn’t realized he had clenched. “All right old man, I’ll take your word for it.” He then swept his gaze over the common room. Two or three men were engaging in a heated argument and two others were starting to push one another. What comes of handing out free ale.

“Pardon me?”

“Nothing old man. We’d best get out of here, before things get out of hand.”

The old man nodded, having run his own eye over the unfolding scenes of violence in front of him. “You got someplace to go?”

“No, but I’ll manage.”

The old man just nodded, running his eye back over the crowd. “Well then, until morning then.”

“Morning?” This Koran hadn’t expected. One night of talk and a few drinks was enough for him, as he had other things to worry about. The old man just smiled up at him and nodded.

“Yes, in the morning. I need to think on something tonight and in the morning, I’ll let you know what I think.” He then reached up and slapped Koran on the shoulder and then turned to leave.

Koran could only stand there and stare at the old mans back as he strode away. Think on something?

Perhaps he sees a younger version of himself, in you.

Doubt that. I don’t think he had machine on his youthful agenda of bodily wishes.

Oh pasha. Give over, you like the guy.

That may be so, but that still doesn’t mean I want him tagging along and dragging me down.

Drag you down? I don’t think we’ve ever seen a man of his age move like he does. He still has some youth in him yet. Besides, he might be able to help you train that youngling you’ve taken on. For all this talk of speed, you’ve already bogged yourself down pretty good.

Hey! Now you give over. Leave me be. I’m leaving.

And just where exactly will you go? You’ve not picked a spot yet and I just know it’s gonna be a god damned bush again.

. . .

It is isn’t it? God dammit, you know I hate bushes.

Hey, leave the driving to me. I’ll get us there, eventually.

And where is ‘there’ exactly?

I’m not sure yet, but when we get there, I’ll tell you.

Oh I’m sure you will, asshole.

Koran left the bar with a small smile on his face for he had just confirmed a very valuable piece of information about himself. He wasn’t imagining that voice inside his head, that voice was real, and it was him. Not the mechanical guts of wires and nuts and screws self that he had woken up too, but his true self.

At least I still have that.

I heard that!

He entered into the night laughing.

[Bernard]

~~~~~

21 hours, 6 minutes 47 seconds after initiation of training

~~~~~

Bernard sat bolt up right in his bed, a cold sweat soaking his skin, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"A dream," he wheezed. "Just a scary dream."

At least, he thought it was a dream. Hoped, prayed to whatever heathen gods existed in this world, wanted it to be a dream. It had been too cruel, and far to otherworldly to be nothing less. He shuddered at the thought and heaved a sigh of relief when he tried to go over once more in his head the details of the dream.

It was fading. Now there was nothing more than a memory of a memory of having a bad dream.

"Phew," he breathed and tossed his blankets away from his bare skin. It was entirely too hot under those things and from what he could see in the hide covered window, it was well into the morning hours of the day.

I wonder how long I've been sleeping for?

He didn't have a clue in the slightest and he wasn't ever any good at reading the suns path and position to ever really know. He just asked someone around who might know and then acted on hearsay and gut feeling. That usually ended up with him getting hurt, but six or seven out of every ten resulted in such disasters. The odds weren't good by any means, but they were good enough for him.

He threw his feet over the edge of the bed and stood on shaky legs. He then took a few hesitant steps forward, feeling the weakness drain from his legs with each step he began to pace steadily around the room. Soon he was able to walk without so much as an unnerving bend in his knees. He had just started to contemplate running around the room for a bit when the door leading into his room slammed open and the old witch entered.

"Sweet mother of all that is fucking holy!" Bernard screeched as he scrambled to find himself cover. The nearest thing was a small pillow and he lunged for it, slamming it into place so hard he had to stifle a grunt. "Weren't you ever taught to fucking knock!?"

The woman moved so fast that Bernard was left standing speechless and dumb for a whole two seconds as her full armed slap took him across the face.

"And didn't anyone teach you not to curse at your elders?" She countered in a stern, no nonsense voice.

Bernard straightened, rubbing the side of his face and shaking the black flecks from his eyes. He then turned a well worth glare on the old woman and stuck a finger up in her face.

"God dammit, and I stress god fucking dammit, that gives you no fucking right to just barge the fuck in on someone like that!"

At least she had the decency to wait until he finished before unleashing a barrage of slaps that left him sprawled on the ground, the room spinning in six different directions, his eyes unwilling to focus. When he finally regained himself, what seemed like hours later, he stood up, not bothering with the useless pillow, and resumed his glare. He was just about to open his mouth a second time, when the door creaked open slowly and another elderly, though slightly younger, woman stuck her head in.

"Aunt Claire, we heard yelling. Is everything all - - Whooo! Would you look at that? Mm-m-mm. You‘ve done it again haven‘t you old girl? Ha ha!"

It was clear to Bernard exactly what she was looking at and suddenly he wish he had a wall to hide behind, and a sheet to drape over his beat red face. It was all he could do not to fold in on himself and just begin to cry. Instead he settled with a whimper. The old woman stood her ground however, gave the other woman a very frosty look and placed her hands on his hips.

“This is none of your business Beatrice, besides, this young man is a patient, not a client. And you of all people should know I stopped that nonsense a very long time ago. Now, out with you before I turn my stick on you.”

“Yes mistress,” the other woman said with a calm, cold stare for the woman. Her eyes glanced at Bernard and she paused, taking a full two seconds to look him up and down, then again, before giving him an overly warm smile and ducking back out the door. It closed with a soft click and the old witch turned her attention back to Bernard.

“Pay no mind to her. She’s always been a nosy person.”

“Chya!” Bernard scoffed. “No fucking shit.” He was awarded with his embarrassment induced cursing by a fifth full armed slap.

“You never will learn, will you boy?” The old woman sighed and shook her head. “No matter, you will soon be out of my hair. Drink this for the next three days,” she said as she handed him a small vial of green liquid. “It will help keep the healing pains away. In the mean time, get dressed and go down stairs. Your friend should be waiting, if he’s returned by this time. If not, well then get yourself something to eat. I suspect you’ve got a lot in store for you today, and many more days to come.”

And then, with a final once more over him and his naked flesh, the old woman excused herself politely and exited his room. Bernard managed to stay upright for a full five seconds before his legs finally buckled and he landed hard on the wood flooring.

“Oh god,” he moaned into his hands. Rubbing his eyes and pulling his skin around on his face, Bernard tried hard to forget everything that had just happened to him in those last few days. “Ahh it’s no use, it won’t go away.”

Sighing and looking down at the bubbling green liquid, Bernard silently went over his options. He could a, stay up in the room and not go outside and risk getting more intrusions from that foul old woman. B, he could get dressed and go down stairs and have to deal with the old woman, that strange other lady who entered into his room, and Koran. Old woman by herself, or old woman with insufferable Koran and about a dozen other people.

This sucks so much.

~~~~~

21 hours, 47 minutes and 17 seconds after initiation of training

~~~~~

As it turned out, Bernard wasn’t in an Inn, as he once had thought. He was still in the old woman’s house, on the second floor, near the back. He got lost once trying to find his way down, but when he did, finding the rest was simply a matter of following the sounds of people. He emerged into the old womans kitchen a few seconds after coming downstairs and found himself facing the old woman, and a peculiar looking old man.

“Where’s Koran?” Bernard asked, still standing in the doorway between the kitchen and long hall. The old man looked up at the mention of Koran’s name and only shrugged.

“Haven’t seen him since last night. Told him to meet me here this morning, there’s something I want to tell him.”

What the hell could this old man have to tell Koran?

Bernard just shook his head and finished entering into the kitchen.

“Well, then I guess the only thing left to do is just wait for him to return then, no?”

The old man suddenly began to laugh and reached over to slap Bernard on the shoulder. “That’d be a fine sounding plan to me lad, a fine sounding plan indeed.” Bernard couldn’t help but start to laugh with the old man too, after it became clear that he wouldn’t stop laughing after just a few seconds, and they sat there laughing and telling stupid jokes back and forth with one another for a good long time.

[Koran]

~~~~~~

20 hours, 12 minutes and 48 seconds after initiation of training

~~~~~~

It had been a long, cold and wet night for the cyborg. Now that it was over however, he realized that perhaps it hadn't been so bad. One always had to take some solace in flying eighteen thousand feet in the air and seeing the night sky as one should. Uninterrupted by clouds or smoke from hundreds of thousands of fires. It hadn't been the night sky that had made the night seem so miserable those first few hours however, it was seeing the night of space that had caused those feelings.

Almost three years gone now, it was hard to comprehend that he had been here that long, he had crashed landed on this plant after spending eight thousand plus years up in that black and white void. Eight thousand plus years made it a binding and permanent feature in his life, and every so often, whenever he glanced up at the night sky and saw the stars through the clouds, he would get all teary eyed and stuffy. That of course brought up the memories of his test tube days and that usually ended in some degree of anger or sorrow. That was a new feeling for those memories, sorrow. He probably shouldn't have reacted the way he had when he first woke up. He still didn't even know what it was they were doing to him when he woke. All he did know that it was different than what it was before, and not right.

Do you even know what you were before?

No. Should I?

Perhaps.

Perhaps...what?

Perhaps you should. Perhaps you shouldn't.

What are you trying to do? Make me finally snap and shut down or something?

Hahahaha, shut down? My friend, that would kill me as surely as killing you. No, I am not here to harm you. Take ease in that truth.

Then what are you here for?

Silence.

He sighed. He never really could get that new and mysterious voice in his head to ever really hold a decent conversation. It was always just a word or two here, some bit of confusing advice here. At least, he thought it was advice. You never really could tell with someone who sounded insane ninety percent of the time.

He shook his head and stood from where he was seated atop a low hill some four hundred miles from the village where Bernard was. It was time he got back, the lad would be waking up soon.

~~~~~~

25 hours, 13 minutes and 57 seconds after initiation of training

~~~~~~

The inside of the home was quiet. Not surprising, considering there was only one old woman living there. After a quick check to all the upstairs rooms it was clear that they had gone out for the day. They would have to come back eventually. The cyborg settled down on the back porch and sat staring up at the bright blue and white sky, content to wait and for once in his life, not be in a great hurry to get somewhere.

[Bernard]

~~~~~~

23 hours, 15 minutes and 27 seconds after initiation of training

~~~~~~

"So, bored!" Bernard, his head down, nestled between the fold in his inner elbow, whined. He'd been up for at least two hours now, but had expected Koran back an hour and a half ago. Consequently he was left pondering what could have possibly become of his 'master', what he was to do with a crabby old woman and an old man that just wouldn't stop laughing. The old woman, standing still behind a large pot of boiling stew, suspended carefully above a small wood burning stove near the back of the room, grunted when she heard Bernard's whine.

"If you'd taken up on my offer to go into town and buy me those list items, you wouldn't be so bored, now would you?"

Bernard lifted his head just enough to stare over his arm with blood shot eyes. "I'm not going into town to buy that, that, whatever the fucking hell that crap is."

There was a moment of silence that filled the room, only to be abruptly broken by a loud thumping and whistling sound as a small tin mug sailed across the room to take Bernard fast on the left side of his head. Taken by complete surprise by the flying tin mug of death, Bernard reared up out of his chair with a shrill yelp, tangled his feet in the legs of the table and his chair, and tipped backwards over the back of his chair to land in a heap of flesh, wood and tin. He groaned once and shifted the chair from a place in the small of his back before laying still.

Foul old woman.

He really should have seen that one coming. He really should, but there was a certain, 'disease' he'd call it, that ran in his family and that was, that he was a slow learner. Really slow. This would have been the seventh time that morning he would have been disciplined for his foul language, and he suspected if he stuck around for much longer, he would be disciplined further.

The old man, who had just recently left the room to catch up on some easy reading in the adjacent room, came bustling in in a hurry to find out what all the yelling and crashing about had been.

"Oh," was all he said when he saw the heaped Bernard and the smiling old woman. "Right, I'll leave you two to your business as usual. I'll be in the other room should you need something."

With that, he turned and scampered out of the room.

"Wait," Bernard croaked, but the man was already gone, wishing to be out of a room before anything bad could happen to him, as the old woman’s acts of discipline seemed to be contagious and didn't care whom they inflicted. "Confounded old man," he mumbled as he shifted.

Wincing in pain, for he truly was in pain, that chair had landed in a rather nasty spot on his back, Bernard sat up and untangled himself from his chair. That old woman was cackling by the fire again, she always did when Bernard picked himself up from where he had fallen due to his discipline, and he shot her a blood shot glare from where he was seated. No point in cussing at her, she'll find something else to throw, and it'll be bigger than a tin mug. As such the glare quickly faded and he simply stood, gave her a nod and a smile, picked up the list from where it had lain on the tabletop, and exited the room after the old man.

"Hey, geezer," Bernard called as he exited the room. "I need your help."

~~~~~~

25 hours, 14 minutes and 09 seconds after initiation of training

~~~~~~

The old woman, who had been knitting in silence in the second floor study, came down the stairs to the first floor after hearing heavy foot falls from the adjoining floor. What she found, instead of the return of the old man and Bernard, was instead the boys strange and renegade teacher, Koran.

"You've just missed them," she said silently as she sat down beside the massive man. "They've just left to the market to purchase some items for me. They'll be back in a little bit though."

Then she fell silent, staring up at the same blue and white sky the massive man was staring at, content with the silence and feeling at peace. A small smile crept onto her lips and remained for the whole time she was sitting beside him.

~~~~~~

26 hours, 15 minutes and 48 seconds after initiation of training

~~~~~~

"Dammit, this fucking shit is heavy!" Now that he was away from old woman he could cuss and shout as much as he wanted, and he was taking full advantage of it. "Why must we carry this shit?"

The old man, walking with only half the goods on his shoulders compared to what Bernard was carrying, only looked sideways at him and smiled a small smile. "You'd think, that after all stuff she threw at you and hit you with, you'd learn to clean up your act."

"Do you care?"

"Oh no, spit that crap out as much as you want, I've been young before. I know how good it feels to just get it all out in a single word or two. Just don't emphasis it so much."

"Right," Bernard said. "I'll remember that."

He was serious. He might be a slow learner, but he was also stubborn. Hit him enough times and he would simply refuse to learn, tell him straight out though, and he'd take it to heart. Most of the time at least. Shouldering his bags and packages, Bernard hurried to catch up to the old man who was quickly pulling away from him. He'd already gotten lost twice, no need to embarrass himself further.

~~~~~~

26 hours, 30 minutes and 17 seconds after initiation of training

~~~~~~

"Finally, I can put this stuff down!" The relief was plain in his voice as Bernard dropped his bundles, packages and sacks to the ground with no regard to where they landed or how. "Oh the joy! A chair, with which to sit upon!" He landed heavily in the chair and exhaled loud and long, head lolling over to the side, eyes closed and his mouth slightly ajar.

"I wouldn't get too comfortable," the old man said. "Koran's back."

"Muh?" Bernard lifted his head heavily from his shoulder and looked at the old man with half closed eyes. "Koran?" He then sat up, eyes all the way open and his face looking alert. "Where?"

"Outside, with the old woman."

Bernard leapt to his feet and cried out wordlessly as he sped toward the back of the house. He emerged onto the back porch with a clatter as he rushed through the door faster than it could open and found the two of them seated side by side, silently watching the sky.

Not talking.

"Uhhhh," Bernard said as the old woman turned slightly to stare silent death at him. He was left dumb struck and silent for a moment before coughing behind a fist and shifting his feet. "Koran, uhhh, I see that you're, uhhh, back. So, ummm, do you think, ummm, that it'd be, uhhh, possible to, uhhh, ummm, heh." He spared a glance toward the old woman. "Can we leave now?"

[Koran]

26 hours, 31 minutes and 4 seconds after initiation of training

~~~~~~

Koran smiled in spite of himself. Twisting himself around, the machine looked back at the lad and smiled a little broader.

"Certainly Bernard, get your stuff."

A smile bloomed on the boys face and he nodded vigorously before running up the stairs near the back of the room. He returned moments later with his meager collection of things and was already in the process of belting on his swords. Having stood while Bernard was darting up the stairs, the machine turned his attention to the old woman and extended his hand.

"Well madam, it was a pleasure to make your acquaintance and I thank you graciously for your help in our small matter. Maybe we'll stop by again sometime, so you can check up on him?" He made sure to give Bernard a passing glace, one that stopped the lad dead in his tracks and caused everyone to break into soft laughter. "I'm just playing kid," the machine said with a smile. The horrified look on the boys face melted away, being replaced with so much relief that the machine didn't think the boys face could get any more flushed. He shook his head and grasped a hold of the old woman’s extended hand. "Be seeing you."

The old woman, who had been smiling widely the entire time, nodded her head. "Oh not a worry lad. You boys stop by any time now, you're always welcome in Aunt Claire's home."

The old man, who had been standing small in one of the corners, coughed roughly. Everyone’s attention turned to the old man and he waved, pointing to his throat. "Twas nothing. Just an old piece of food, that's all."

"Uh-huh, sure it was." The old woman rolled her eyes and returned her gaze to Koran. "You boys got all your supplies ready?"

The machine, who had been looking at the old man, a bewildered look on his face, started at hearing the old woman speak to him and turned his head toward her. "What? Oh, yes, Bernard has all that he needs."

"And what about you?" The old woman leaned in a little, her face growing a little more pinched. "Do you have your supplies?"

Caught off guard, and more than just a little intimidated by the old woman’s sudden change in attitude, the machine leaned back a bit and bit his lip. "Ummm, yes, yes I do."

The old woman stared at the machine for a moment, one of her eye brows slightly lifted, then finally nodded. "All right." Her smile returned and she nodded to the both of them, who both looked more than just a little relived. "You boys have a safe trip." And with that, she vanished into the house.

For a moment Bernard, Koran and the old man were just left standing there, staring silently at the spot where she vanished. The old man broke the silence with a cough.

"Well then lads, looks like this be the start of one grand adventure." His smile was gapped and a little ragged.

"Wait, start of one grand adventure?!" Bernard, who had managed to speak before Koran could, took his hands from his still unfastened belt, letting it fall to the ground with a clatter. "You mean like, you're coming too?"

The ragged smile turned into a full fledge grin and the man pulled a full rucksack out from behind a wall. "Of course, why not? You boys seem like you're heading off to do something dangerous and I want to be there. Just talking with you guys has brought back that old adventuring spark I'd long thought lost. You boys don't mind, right?"

Bernard, his eyes wide with shock, turned to Koran, who himself wasn't any less shocked.

The old man?

Yes, and why not?

What the fuck?! Dammit, I wish you wouldn't just disappear and reappear like that.

Oh I'm sorry that I really don't have anything to say, all the fucking time. Would you like me to talk all the fucking time?

No.

Then shut up. If the old man wants to come, let him. I don't think he'll slow you down anyway. He seems spry enough.

"He can come," Koran said aloud. And what if does? Fly him back, end of story. Psh.

"Right," the old man said, his face now full of joy and his smile wide. "Let's get going."

Bernard, who still couldn't seem to grasp that the old man was truly serious, bent to buckle his belt on.

Let's just hope this wasn't a mistake.

It won't be, just wait.

[Bernard]

26 hours, 46 minutes and 28 seconds after initiation of training

~~~~~~

Bernard couldn't understand why the old man had wanted to come with him and Koran, but if the big man didn't mind the old man tagging alone, Bernard wasn't one to complain. Besides, the old man was lively enough, maybe he really could keep up. This of course, didn't stop Bernard from thinking that perhaps this journey would kill the old man. Men of his age were fragile enough, they didn't need adventure to tip the scale. All the same, they set out only fifteen minutes after the decision was made, and so far, everything had gone smooth enough.

The old man had found a horse someplace, a dingy looking thing. All skin and bones, with flies constantly buzzing around its head and butt, but the old man seemed happy enough with it. Bernard made sure to keep Wind away from the other animal though. No telling what the two would do if they suddenly became cross with one another.

The old man it seemed, also had a pack horse ready, almost as if he had planned to come along the whole time. Bernard gave Koran a confused glance but the man only shrugged, with what looked like an amused look on his face. Bernard could only shake his head, trying instead to think about what they might see in the coming days, or weeks.

This set him off on a grand imagining of damsels in distress and him being the great hero, like from the stories of old. His mind wandered too far and he was recalled abruptly by the shouting of Koran. Shaking himself to rid his mind of the wild imaginings, Bernard spurred Wind forward to catch up with Koran and the old man.

Well, he thought as he plodded up beside his teacher. Maybe this time I won't fall off and hurt my nuts. Abruptly he laughed and caused both the old man and Koran too look at him funny. He tried to become small in his saddle with embarrassment but this only caused them to laugh instead. Soon he began laughing and for a while they just chuckled together.

And then they were silent, as they slowly made their way out of the town and into the surrounding countryside.

[Koran]

Both of these players posts were written by the same author, me. As such, I would like all of the experience to be awarded to this character, if that is possible.

Thank you.

[Ashiakin]

Since this is an old thread in a storyline that you do not intend to continue, I'll keep it relatively simple so I can get to your EXP.

Continuity - 5 I was not sure how this thread fit into the larger storyline of your characters. You rectified this somewhat at the end when you allowed for the possibility for future storylines with these characters. Still, aside from some character history, I could not put it in context.

Setting - 7 The setting was fairly well-developed and it exerted a force on the story. Many of your locations had a unique feel to them and could not have been substituted with generic places.

Pacing - 6 The shift from the storyline about training to the storyline about your characters interaction with the two older characters was a little jarring. Noting the time, however, helped to keep things consistent.

Dialogue - 5 Your dialogue seemed to rely on stereotypes of characters a little too often--the lovable old man who has seen the world and the mean old woman. It made it difficult for your supporting characters to rely break out of their stereotypical roles.

Action - 6 This was a thread about relatively mundane things--training, meeting people, drinking in a tavern--but there was nothing wrong with that. Althanas does not have enough threads concerning storylines like that. This felt like the beginning of something larger, but that does not take away from the fact that the story worked well enough on its own.

Persona - 5 As far as I could tell, your use of your main characters was consistent. However, I had problems with your supporting characters that I covered in the dialogue section.

Mechanics - 6 You were mostly fine on technical points like punctuation but I found that a lot of your sentences were not as clearly constructed as they could have been.

Technique - 5 As I mentioned before, having frequent updates on the time helped keep the story in perspective, but aside from that I did not see anything noticeable on this front.

Clarity - 6 I mentioned in mechanics that I had some problems with the clarity of your sentences. I just want to differentiate that from clarity in the story, which I thought was better done. The sentence structure made some parts confusing, but for the most part the events were easy to follow.

Wild Card - 6 Again, really nice use of setting.

Total - 57

EXP/REWARDS

Koran receives 1900 EXP and 200 GP.

[Witchblade]

EXP and GP added!