Chapter 1: The Past
A loud thump came from across the barnyard, startling young Wilhelm and his brother Randos. The two young serfs ran to the supposed safety of their families homestead, the younger calling out for the father.
The two entered the hay-and-board house, into their mother's arms. With the typical worrisome look of one who has seen too many vile things, the bandana clad matron asked the boys what troubles them.
"Mama. Something is behind the barn."
"What could it be, Randos?"
"It sounded like a thousand evil knights jumping, mother."
"Stop that foolishness, Wilhelm!" The mother raised her voice in base reprimand, "Well Randos?"
"I think it's something magical."
"Come here, baby. Hush." The woman pressed the younger son firmly into her breast.
"What's this then?" Came a drunken slur from the back room of the little home, "What seems to be the trouble, Mera?"
"The young ones are acting up again. Bumps and such."
"Now listen here, you," A more than portly man with a thick beard pulled down into dual braids lumbered into the room, "If I have to here anymore of your nonsense, it's to the dogs with you. To the dogs."
"But, Daddy...."
"No. No more." The father turned to Wilhelm with a mean look in his eyes, the kind of look found in statues of conquerors and warriors. "And as for you, well you've got what's been comin' to you."
"Father, don't."
"Hold still, boy."
"Papa!" shrieked the young boy as his father began the beating. Just then, three men in dark hoods entered the hut, with torches ablaze. One, wearing purple clerical vestments knocks over the household's prize possesion, an ornate table fashioned from mahogany. In terror, the family huddles together, for sheer mental support. Another of the hooded figures smashed the families keg of ale throughout the house, dropping a match. Flames rose higher and higher as doom aproached the innocents within.
"It's the Future that you hate. It's their fault when they get here. We know this will be their base," cried out the preistly ambassador of ill intent towards the place, "Rathar must fall."
The two entered the hay-and-board house, into their mother's arms. With the typical worrisome look of one who has seen too many vile things, the bandana clad matron asked the boys what troubles them.
"Mama. Something is behind the barn."
"What could it be, Randos?"
"It sounded like a thousand evil knights jumping, mother."
"Stop that foolishness, Wilhelm!" The mother raised her voice in base reprimand, "Well Randos?"
"I think it's something magical."
"Come here, baby. Hush." The woman pressed the younger son firmly into her breast.
"What's this then?" Came a drunken slur from the back room of the little home, "What seems to be the trouble, Mera?"
"The young ones are acting up again. Bumps and such."
"Now listen here, you," A more than portly man with a thick beard pulled down into dual braids lumbered into the room, "If I have to here anymore of your nonsense, it's to the dogs with you. To the dogs."
"But, Daddy...."
"No. No more." The father turned to Wilhelm with a mean look in his eyes, the kind of look found in statues of conquerors and warriors. "And as for you, well you've got what's been comin' to you."
"Father, don't."
"Hold still, boy."
"Papa!" shrieked the young boy as his father began the beating. Just then, three men in dark hoods entered the hut, with torches ablaze. One, wearing purple clerical vestments knocks over the household's prize possesion, an ornate table fashioned from mahogany. In terror, the family huddles together, for sheer mental support. Another of the hooded figures smashed the families keg of ale throughout the house, dropping a match. Flames rose higher and higher as doom aproached the innocents within.
"It's the Future that you hate. It's their fault when they get here. We know this will be their base," cried out the preistly ambassador of ill intent towards the place, "Rathar must fall."
1 Comments:
-I really like the boys' names.
-"'Come here, baby. Hush.' The woman pressed the younger son firmly into her breast." I really like this sentance for some reason. It works.
-"A more than portly man with a thick beard pulled down into dual braids lumbered into the room" Beautiful. Just.. beautiful. ^_^
-"with a mean look in his eyes, the kind of look found in statues of conquerors and warriors." Kick-ass description.
-The ending is a bit confusing, but I suppose I will have to make do with it until next Friday, no? Mm. Not much else.
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