A Rememberance

[Raziel]

((Closed. Mainly a solo with Christoph making an apperance at the end.))


The Sea, it’s been too long my love.

Raziel, leaning against the rails of the port side of the ferry, stares longing into the blue water stretching out before him. He is now on the ferry from Scara Brae to Corone, making the short trip to the countryside just outside of Gisela. He squints his eyes due to the mid-day sun making the ocean look like a million diamonds sparkling in a rhythmic movement. The wave lapping at the bow of the boat like a metronome slowly sends Raziel into a half conscious trance. With this hypnotic allure, Raziel ponders on the situation that started two years ago.

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The atmosphere in the tavern was like any night: Rowdy and Rough. A one eyed patron tells an enthusiastic tale on how he lost his eye to a bear, but how he removed the bear’s testicles before the fight was over. Another man subtly shows his affections for one of the bar wenchs, by slapping her ass as she walks by with a full tray of beverages. A group of young travelers slosh around their drinks as they try to sing their favorite songs, with horrible results. Raziel is placed at the bar with a bottle of rum in front of him. He is gently brushing the bottle neck with his fingers, softly cooing it like a baby. A rather attractive half elf was watching Raziel’s peculiar actions when she noticed his eyes.

“Oh, I love your eyes, grey is such a rare color,” she said as she physically turned Raziel toward her. His eyes glazed over and tainted from his drunken stupor, seem to lighten a little when he finally focused on her. “Really!? Cause I simply love your ass, it’s like a dime a dozen,” Raziel gave his best drunk naughty smile. Wait, that didn’t come out right. WHAMP The sound of the slap could be heard over the commotion of the tavern’s atmosphere. A few of the regulars stop their drinks in order to laugh at Raziel’s recent misfortune. The psychical pain never came due to a very slow reaction in his nervous system. Raziel turned back to his bottle and softly asked to it, “Why doesn’t that ever work for me, mate?” He picked up the bottle and emptied the entire contents down his throat. Disappointed the rum did not share an answer with him, he slowly swayed on his bar stool; trying to remind himself of the rhythmic progression of the waves. Hitting a big wave, Raziel rockets his way to the tavern floor, where the only sounds he heard before the blackout were laughter and four drunken morons slurring their words ,as they sang off-key.

[Raziel]

An hour passed and Raziel finds himself in a garbage pile, which oddly enough smells fresher than him. “Ugh,” he strained to lift himself up. “Hey. Hey! I can’t see,” Raziel shook him head violently to knock off the darkness that binds him. Feeling his face, he finds a piece of cloth wrapped around his eyes. He pulled it off to realize it’s his own bandana. He slumped against the wall, half relieved half embarrassed, he came to the conclusion he is still drunk. Steadying himself, he brushes off various rotten debris and thinks, This is not a way a person should live. Depressed he walks the dark alley holding on to the wall so he doesn’t fall flat on his face. Moaning softly and dragging his feet, he perks up instantly when he heard a strange noise behind him.

“You are perfect for us,” said the shadows. Raziel spun around on his heels. But unfortunately when his body stopped, his vision didn’t. Now, with the world spinning viciously, nausea and exhaustion crippled his body. He begins to retch up his stomach contents and continues well after he is depleted. Letting go of the wall, Raziel fell flat on his face and the unwelcome darkness envelopes him again.

SPLASH Wet! Cold! Turn into the wave! Raziel was thinking he was on a ship, but soon found he was actually tied down to a rather plush armchair in a very extravagant study room. Three of the walls he could see were covered from floor to ceiling with a heavy rose colored bookshelf. The shelfs were filled with leather bound, hardcovers, scrolls; anything that could be written on, these shelfs contained it. There were gaps in the shelf were the actual ledges were taken away and replaced with huge paintings that depicted epic battles. The Demon Wars of Corone. Raziel stared at a certain painting that showed a mix army of humans, elves, and dwarfs riding into battle against dark skinned monsters; demons. Just then another wave hit Raziel, soaking him to the bone.
“I’m awake! I’m awake,” a drenched Raziel yells.

“Good, now that your awake we can talk,” said the shadow voice. He struggled against the rope that bound him to the arms and back of the chair, Raziel tried to turn to see who is talking, but all he saw was the enormous backrest of the chair. “Ok, I am all ears mate. I love to know why I have been kidnapped and tied to a chair,” he said with a bit of poison in his voice.

“We help people like you, people who are down on their luck and need help getting back on their feet. So I purpose a simple business transaction that will greatly benefit both of us,” laughed the voice. Raziel could tell the voice sounded deep but smooth, it belongs to someone who is used to get what he wants.

“And this transaction is?” Raziel still struggling against his binds strained to hear the response.

“For you to retrieve a certain item and bring it back to the place where we drop you off at,” answered the voice

“Stop beating around the bush, what item and how much do I get paid?” Raziel was getting pissed that he was being toyed around with.

“Why the Scara Scimitar of Supremacy of course.”

“HA! No one knows where exactly it is kept, besides its suicide.” Raziel explained.

“Don’t be so hasty,” the voice grew closer, “we know where it is and how to get it out.”

“You don’t sound to confident to me,” Raziel smirked. “Hey, who are you guys anyway?” Just at that moment Raziel was blindsided and knocked unconscious for the third time this night.