Sands
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Brotherhood forged amongst shed blood and tested steel.
Posts: 8
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Post by Sands on May 24, 2005 20:14:31 GMT -5
The men trudged wearily through the ever-shifting sands, agonizing throes of fatigue and dehydration wracking their bodies with every cumbersome step. The leader of the tired expedition paused at the peak of a mountainous dune, guilt welling in his heart as he surveyed the struggling line of soldiers behind him.
All fifty of these men were doomed, and the leader knew it. He knew how each of these men would die, what each would do in their final fleeting seconds of life. He even knew in torturous detail the final expressions that would appear on these unsuspecting faces as they were cut down, looks of pain, sorrow, and regret that chilled him to the very bone. He knew all this because he had visited this place before, had stood in this very same position at this very same instance ten thousand times past.
How he wished he could rush down this sandy slope, could laugh triumphantly as he warned these souls of their fates, saving them from what the gods had in store. But no--their destinies had been sealed long ago. What he experienced now was a distant echo from a troubled past; try as he might, he could not move from this spot, could not utter even the slightest of warnings that might prevent the inexorable conclusion to this tragedy. He could only watch.
Even now it was beginning. Feral battlecries rose up about the weary procession in a frightening symphony, animalistic roars that chilled the men to the bone. The leader of the expedition watched in horror as robed figures leapt from under the sand, descending on the ragged group from every direction. No longer aware of his own movements, the leader stared as the exhausted men responded, releasing a weak volley of rifle fire against the fierce wave of ambushers that threatened to engulf them.
In another instant the robed figures were atop the disoriented soldiers, the clatter of automatic weapons filling the air as the ambushers ruthlessly cut down their intended victims. Piercing screams were drowned out by hail after hail of bullets; the leader was forced to bear full witness to the massacre as corpse after corpse collapsed onto the bloodied sand.
There was absolutely nothing he could do...
Sands wakes from the nightmare with a start to the sound of knocking on his front door. Blinking once to afirm that he has indeed safely returned to reality, Sands rises from the straw mattress, wiping a sheen of cold sweat from his brow. He reaches for a worn, gray tunic, slipping it over his head as he plods slowly towards the door.
If only there were some things I could forget...
Along his way he stops at the water basin, splashing the refreshing liquid over his face as he gazes quietly at the still-rattling entrance.
Villagers don't usually go waking me up in the middle of the night. Something must be up.
Sighing deeply, Sands finally reaches the door in question, reaching lazily for his rifle as he slowly forces the ancient wooden portal open. What he sees on the other side makes him question if he is indeed awake...
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Post by The Pink Tyrant on Jun 12, 2005 16:37:21 GMT -5
Wengotha is startled by the man's rude awakening. By no means did she want to make anyone frustrated. She was positive that no one was accustommed to running into a girl with a huge book being carried on her back, but even this seemed a little perplexing. Why on earth would someone want to pull a rifle on a immaculate, young women.
She speaks in a soft, quiet voice as she moves the rifle away from her body," Is everything alright sir?"
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Sands
New Member
Brotherhood forged amongst shed blood and tested steel.
Posts: 8
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Post by Sands on Jun 13, 2005 20:04:22 GMT -5
Sands blinks, shaking his head to clear away the last traces of sleep as he lowers his aged rifle, replacing it on the rack beside him. It takes several seconds for him to find an adequate response to the girl's query, however. Rarely does Sands receive visitors, and rarer still do these visitors consist of young women showing up uninvited in the dead of night.
A cursory glance at the girl in front of him drives home the fact that she is anything but normal. Her skin is a dull gray, her medium-length hair a swirled combination of white, gray, and black. She is garbed in a long, black cloak, revealing traces of a beautiful green dress underneath. Her wrists and neck are adorned with intimidating spikes, and on her back is strapped a gigantic book many times larger than even the most expansive of known tomes. Her slim frame suggests she cannot be any older than eighteen.
Clearing his throat, Sands finally responds, a sheepish grin coming over his features as he comes to the conclusion that despite her strange clothing and odd physical characteristics, her intentions do not appear at all hostile.
"Sorry, miss. I wasn't expecting visitors tonight, and you had the lousy luck to catch me in mid-nightmare."
Sands takes a step forward, his gaze sweeping the dark and ominious landscape behind his visitor before he speaks again.
"You're more'n welcome to come inside, miss. My farm's a long ways from the village, and it's always safer indoors. We can talk more in front of a cheery fire, anyways."
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Post by The Pink Tyrant on Jun 18, 2005 19:44:02 GMT -5
"Even if I did catch you mid-nightmare, 'tis not polite to point a gun a lady, and a young one at that. My apologies for waking you at this hour."
She quitely steps within the door of his quite little home, admiring the difference of his humble adobe. Wengotha wasn't very accustomed to farm life, but then she wasn't really accustomed to much of anything.
"Thanks for allowing me in your home at such an unusual hour. I am very random and unpredictable, as you will soon find out, and I do like to be nice and safe inside."
She pauses to look around again. She lowers her book from her back and slowly rests it on the floor.
"So what brings such an interesting character as yourself to live out here?"
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Sands
New Member
Brotherhood forged amongst shed blood and tested steel.
Posts: 8
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Post by Sands on Jun 22, 2005 21:44:54 GMT -5
Sands steps into his house first, striding quickly to the center of the adobe's one and only room. His hands quickly find the oil lantern suspended from the thatch ceiling, fingers manipulating and lighting the device with a remarkable amount of deftness and speed. It appears he has long grown used to this simple ritual.
The sudden burst of light from the hanging lantern illuminates the sparse room in its warm glow, almost causing Sands to wish he hadn't lighted it in the first place. The fair-sized room is spartan at best; a straw-stuffed cot sits in one corner, a rough and hand-crafted bookcase next to it. Wet clothing hangs from strings criss-crossing the enclosed space, and dry clothing lies in tangled heaps wherever there is a vaguely clear surface.
The focus of the room appears to be two roughcut wooden chairs positioned around an iron stove. The rest of the room is littered with various farming implements and utilities vital to the profession. It is a simple home, but it does not feel particularly homely--it lacks any true personality, only filled with the things most essential to survival. It is, in short, the home of a man stranger to even himself.
Sands reddens slightly at the simplicity of his quarters, gesturing invitingly in the direction of the better of the two armchairs as he closes the heavy wooden door behind the black-cloaked girl. Moving to light the iron stove in front of the two armchairs, Sands can't help but raise an eyebrow as his guest drops her mammoth book. Finally succeeding in kindling a merry fire in the stove, Sands finally takes a seat at the other chair, enjoying the waves of warmth that gradually chase away the cold night air. He listens attentively when the girl finally speaks, responding in an easy-going voice after a moment's worth of consideration.
"I wouldn't exactly call myself interesting, miss. Suffice to say, I've got quite the history, and farming can help you forget just about anything..."
Grinning amiably, Sands turns to gaze in the direction of his guest.
"But you were the one wandering around in the dead of night, miss. What brings you to the doorstep of some deadbeat farmer of the Black Village, one of the most uninteresting places on the whole continent?"
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Post by The Pink Tyrant on Jun 23, 2005 17:57:06 GMT -5
Wengotha looks around while doing her best trying to hide the fact that she doesn't possess an answer to Sand's inquiry. She tries to quickly think of an rationalization, but reliazes that it wouldn't be very persuasive. She gathered just to go ahead and tell Sands the truth.
"Call me crazy, but I really have no clue to why I came here. I woke up to find myself almost in the middle of the fallowed field close to your home. I came here because I don't remember where I was before. The only thing I know is my name and that I carry my dearest possession on my back. I came here seeking one's help, no matter how startling our first encounter may have been. My name is Wengotha."
She stands up from roughcut wooden chair she had sat in and walked over until she was right in fron of Sands. Her hand came out from within her cloak as she made to shake his hand.
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Sands
New Member
Brotherhood forged amongst shed blood and tested steel.
Posts: 8
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Post by Sands on Jun 25, 2005 17:10:31 GMT -5
Sands sits leisurely in the roughcut chair, idly warming his hands as he listens attentively to his guest's story. It is certainly one of the stranger tales he has ever heard, and considering the vast array of cultures and customs he has been exposed to in his life, that is saying quite a lot.
As the girl walks towards him Sands slowly rises, smiling warmly at her as he shakes her hand firmly. His expression falters slightly as he realizes how discourteous he's been.
"I must be growing old, to invite a young woman inside yet not even introduce myself. The name's Sands--don't ask where the title came from, I don't rightly know myself."
At this he chuckles pleasantly, motioning for her to take her seat once more as he does so himself.
"Something's bothering me, Miss Wengotha. I don't rightly know what help I can possibly be. I scrape by growing vegetables for myself with a tiny surplus I sell to the village. I don't know of anyone that can cure a lost memory, and I sure don't know how to do it myself. I might know a thing or two about firearms, but I doubt that could help you either..."
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Post by The Pink Tyrant on Jun 27, 2005 19:24:27 GMT -5
She walks back to the chair and sits down.
"Now, who's to say that I was asking for a restored memory? I sincerely doubt that is a possibility anyhow. Besides, I don't even know if I would want my memory restored. Life is a journey. Why not restart from the beginning, even though I am not physically at the stage of the beginning of life? I think it would be a challenge getting to relearn everything and I am excited about that. The only thing that I ask of you is someone to be here for me if I need something. I know this is a lot to consider, especially coming from a person that you know nothing about, but surely you couldn't kick out a helpless teenager from your home during the middle of the night..."
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Sands
New Member
Brotherhood forged amongst shed blood and tested steel.
Posts: 8
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Post by Sands on Jun 28, 2005 20:50:32 GMT -5
Sands grins reassuringly, listening to Wengotha's answer. Eventually he responds, casting an idle glance around the sparsely furnished hut.
"Well miss, that's quite the interesting philosophy you've got there. I don't think I've ever heard someone talk like that, and quite frankly, it's refreshing."
At this he leans forward slightly, brown eyes suddenly quite serious as he gazes at the girl seated across from him.
"I'd be more than happy to help you, Miss Wengotha, at only one request: that we go traveling abroad. I've been cooped up here too long trying to live a life I'm not cut out for--methinks your appearance here tonight was trying to tell me that. I don't have any ties here, and I just got finished selling the last of my crop anyways. An adventure sounds like the perfect thing..."
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Post by The Pink Tyrant on Jun 30, 2005 18:54:15 GMT -5
Wengotha's heart leaps for joy at the sound of Sands words. She smiles as if to say thanks. In her mind, she makes a vow to repay him for this in someway.
"Tell me the time and day we leave, and I'll be ready to accompany you."
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Sands
New Member
Brotherhood forged amongst shed blood and tested steel.
Posts: 8
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Post by Sands on Jul 2, 2005 18:59:37 GMT -5
Sands nods swiftly, smoothly rising to his feet.
"Why not first thing tomorrow, Miss Wengotha? As I said before, there sure isn't anything tying me down, so it'd just be wasteful to hang around here any longer than absolutely necessary."
Withdrawing a faded knapsack from the back of a crude shelf, Sands begins carefully going about the almost bare room, packing the things most imperative to survival. He does this with the air of a long-practiced expert; it is clear this is not the first time he has embarked on an extended journey without warning. He glances up as a sudden thought occurs to him, in the midst of stowing several worn tunics into the bag.
"I'm pretty used to traveling, miss, but I'm one dismal cook. How are you at preparing food? I can boil water and put stuff in it, but that's about the limit of my abilities..."
Grinning, Sands finishes with the knapsack, placing it by the door next to the hand-made stand that houses his venerable rifle.
"You can have the bed for the rest of the night if you want. I'll take a chair--and I'm thinking we'll definitely need our sleep, if we're to keep on our toes. Journeying around these parts is a pretty risky business."
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Post by The Pink Tyrant on Jul 8, 2005 16:08:16 GMT -5
"Well, honestly Sands, I am not the most admirable cook in the world, but there isn't anything I cannot , or you cannot do if you don't do a little bit of reading."
She pats the immense book with the smooth palm of her hand.
"Thanks again for everything that you have done tonight. It is very considerate of you to do all this for a person you don't even know."
She walks over to the bed and falls down with exhaustion and silently drifts into a deep sleep.
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Sands
New Member
Brotherhood forged amongst shed blood and tested steel.
Posts: 8
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Post by Sands on Aug 1, 2005 21:50:10 GMT -5
Sands nods at Wengotha's words, extinguishing the hanging oil lamp before retreating to one of the rough-cut armchairs positioned around the merrily crackling iron stove. Shifting into a vaguely comfortable position, he cannot help but gaze towards Wengotha's silhouetted form, a sad half-smile present on his almost boyish features.
I wonder what her story really is. To not even remember one's past...
His thoughts trail off, envisioning those last few painful seconds of his nightmare, every last detail of the bloody scene brutally present.
I wonder which one is worse: not remembering the past at all, or remembering it all too well?
Sands' eyes scan the dark, unadorned room a final time, almost unconsciously checking to make sure he has packed all that will be necessary for the travels ahead. Before he has even become aware of it, his brain is already formulating mental maps of the surrounding countryside, analyzing the best course of travel. His thoughts turn wry as he turns to the side, falling into an uneasy sleep.
Guess I was even more ready to get a move on than I thought...
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