Eladas
07-14-07, 02:02 AM
((Solo))
Gently, the tip of his tongue brushed against the thirty foot, two hundred year old, tasty tree. The flavor lingered in his mouth for a brief moment longer. For a split second, past and present confusingly became one. Memories of the taste of the tree seemed exactly the same as the taste in his mouth – an aged, burned, and bitter explosion to his taste buds. It was absolutely wonderful.
It had been a few years back when Eladas acquired the liking for such an abnormal taste - back to the days when the same spot of land he stood on now, was a place no stranger would ever want to find themselves. It was a time when the infamous Bandit Brotherhood established these grounds, of the Concordia Forest, their territory. Renowned for their vile nature, the Brotherhood was a hated bunch – but no one could deny their power. Under the lead of Yari Ranafas, the Brotherhood welcomed individuals of thieving nature. Wood from the Concordia Forest’s trees was used daily to cook the food that once fed the Brotherhood. Eladas had been one of them.
The Brotherhood had long disappeared, Eladas presumed. Not of trace of their existence remained in the forest. The usual warning signs, trap mechanisms, and scouting Brotherhood members were no where to be seen. Even the cabins that once fostered the most feared bandits of Althanas could not be found. It was then that Eladas began to wonder: For how long was I gone?
After the Bazaar War, Eladas had lost contact with nearly all the people he knew. He had not exchanged a single word, utter, or glance with his fellow comrades from the Brotherhood, Red Hand, or Façade alliances. The war, like any other war, had begun because of a simple dispute. That simple dispute would then spiral into an exacerbated dilemma, cause a war, and only to result in further turmoil. Eladas had been wrapped into the carnage. Wars were not of his nature. Killing was not the problem with wars, the problem was their uselessness. One war would lead to another. It was much more like Eladas to sit back and watch – to be a spectator. But at the time, his allegiances had been sworn to Brotherhood.
Now, he sat once again on the soil of past home. Daylight disappeared rapidly in the forest. Eladas gathered Concordia wood, forming a teepee like structure, and placed weeds at the base. The weeds rapidly caught on fire from Eladas’ lighter. Even the color of the fire and crackling of the weeds reminded Eladas of his days in the Brotherhood. He took out some meat rations, and placed them right onto the wood, where he knew it would cook the best.
After the war had ended, Eladas crept away from society’s fiendish grip. What he had done during that time away is hardly significant – unless the part of the end, when he finally decided to come back to Althanas, is considered. He was here now, beside a fire that filled him with excitment. The meat had finished cooking, and Eladas craved for a bite. Perhaps he returned to the forest solely for the savored meat. He hardly knew himself why he had returned.
“Damn it… the meat just doesn’t taste the same.”
But he wasn't going to leave until he was completely satisfied.
Gently, the tip of his tongue brushed against the thirty foot, two hundred year old, tasty tree. The flavor lingered in his mouth for a brief moment longer. For a split second, past and present confusingly became one. Memories of the taste of the tree seemed exactly the same as the taste in his mouth – an aged, burned, and bitter explosion to his taste buds. It was absolutely wonderful.
It had been a few years back when Eladas acquired the liking for such an abnormal taste - back to the days when the same spot of land he stood on now, was a place no stranger would ever want to find themselves. It was a time when the infamous Bandit Brotherhood established these grounds, of the Concordia Forest, their territory. Renowned for their vile nature, the Brotherhood was a hated bunch – but no one could deny their power. Under the lead of Yari Ranafas, the Brotherhood welcomed individuals of thieving nature. Wood from the Concordia Forest’s trees was used daily to cook the food that once fed the Brotherhood. Eladas had been one of them.
The Brotherhood had long disappeared, Eladas presumed. Not of trace of their existence remained in the forest. The usual warning signs, trap mechanisms, and scouting Brotherhood members were no where to be seen. Even the cabins that once fostered the most feared bandits of Althanas could not be found. It was then that Eladas began to wonder: For how long was I gone?
After the Bazaar War, Eladas had lost contact with nearly all the people he knew. He had not exchanged a single word, utter, or glance with his fellow comrades from the Brotherhood, Red Hand, or Façade alliances. The war, like any other war, had begun because of a simple dispute. That simple dispute would then spiral into an exacerbated dilemma, cause a war, and only to result in further turmoil. Eladas had been wrapped into the carnage. Wars were not of his nature. Killing was not the problem with wars, the problem was their uselessness. One war would lead to another. It was much more like Eladas to sit back and watch – to be a spectator. But at the time, his allegiances had been sworn to Brotherhood.
Now, he sat once again on the soil of past home. Daylight disappeared rapidly in the forest. Eladas gathered Concordia wood, forming a teepee like structure, and placed weeds at the base. The weeds rapidly caught on fire from Eladas’ lighter. Even the color of the fire and crackling of the weeds reminded Eladas of his days in the Brotherhood. He took out some meat rations, and placed them right onto the wood, where he knew it would cook the best.
After the war had ended, Eladas crept away from society’s fiendish grip. What he had done during that time away is hardly significant – unless the part of the end, when he finally decided to come back to Althanas, is considered. He was here now, beside a fire that filled him with excitment. The meat had finished cooking, and Eladas craved for a bite. Perhaps he returned to the forest solely for the savored meat. He hardly knew himself why he had returned.
“Damn it… the meat just doesn’t taste the same.”
But he wasn't going to leave until he was completely satisfied.