The Wasteland is a horrid place where the sun never shines. A place where creatures of the darkness roam abound. A place where no human being with the grace of God could ever survive. An environment not meant for humans. I honestly wonder if Imperials are born liars or if they have to take lessons on it.
The Wasteland is a dark place indeed, the sun rarely shows itself here, but to say it is sunless is quite laughable. On a summer day the temperatures are unbearably hot, and the sun bleaches the land. Creatures of darkness is also a huge over exaggeration. The native race of the Wasteland is known as Karjites. They are a fearsome looking race, large reptilian creatures that walk can walk on two or four legs. However, they are far from nocturnal creatures and usually mind their own business. There are a few Karjitien's who do specialize as bandits or mercenaries, but they are few and far between.
The humans of the Wastelands are almost all fugitives from the empire. I'll give the Imperials credit, they're right when they say no man with the grace of "God" can survive here. Every person here has committed a sin to the Empire, be it murder, theft, or treachery. However the environment can support us rather well. The land is good for agriculture and there are plenty of game animals. Most humans form groups and live their lives in a variety of different ways. The honest will do their honest work, and the corrupt will continue to spread their corruptions.
Master Arlan and I however, lived apart from all the others, we lived in a half finished Imperial fort in a central location in the Wasteland. We lived there, the mountain ranges that marked out the Wastelands all around us, and we lived there just the two of us. I lived in that Imperial fort for ten years, plotting how to destroy those who built the roof over my head. Waiting and plotting until that fateful day when the Imperials came to us, begging for my help.
Friday, October 31, 2014
Tuesday, October 14, 2014
Trust, Death, and Revenge
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. All characters, opinions, and events are purely fictional and should not be believed at all.
Trust, what a beautifully, wonderfully, horrible word. Trust is a lie. Trust is a fools wish to not believe the fact that betrayal is always imminent. Trust simply makes betrayal worse. My village trusted once. The people of my village trusted the empire that was sworn to protect, sworn to aid, sworn to serve. They trusted that it would never betray them. It really is a shame that they all died because of it.
How humorous, that the least trusted of the village, the outcast, was the only one to survive. But maybe it's not so strange at all. After all, when the Empire's Army came swords drawn, I was already prepared and running from the village that I never belonged to. I ran from the village that never treated me as an actual person. I ran far from that place, with no regrets that every foolish person within it would die. Or at least that was the plan. There was one person in the village that showed me compassion. A person I tried to keep out but still broke through. I couldn't leave that person behind. So when the time came to run I grabbed her hand and took her with me.
We ran to the border of the Empire. We ran to the chasm that divides human civilization from the waste lands, the land where no human has every returned. I knew that if we crossed the bridge into the waste lands we would already be considered dead, and be left alone. However we never made it across that bridge. The Empire caught up much faster than I ever expected.
Making it to the bridge, the simple, flimsy, rope bridge that spanned the bottomless abyss, the Empire caught up. Their cavalry was sent ahead to stop us, sent after the two who had escaped. Seeing them I knew we had to hurry, I urged my only friend as we crossed the bridge together. In my panic I quickly moved ahead, why didn't I let her go first? Halfway across the bridge, the sound that haunts me even now sound out, the twang of a bow and the fleshy sound as it hit my friend.
I turned around as I heard the sound and felt her hand loosen from mine. I turned and stared at her with the arrow sticking out the front of her chest. I stared in aghast as she looked up into my eyes, stared at her and listened to her final words from her mouth, "I'm sorry", and watched as she fell into the darkness.
What happened next, I don't know. All I remember is kneeling on the other side of the abyss, staring where my beloved had fallen. Crying endlessly as the world around me burned, burned a dark fire, a fire fueled by my pain. I sat there for two days just crying, and on the third day, when the tears came no more, I felt the presence of a man standing behind me. He offered me a chance, a chance to take out my revenge upon the Empire and all those within it. I gladly accepted. The Empire will pay, it and all those who stand in my way will pay. I will make sure of it.
Trust, what a beautifully, wonderfully, horrible word. Trust is a lie. Trust is a fools wish to not believe the fact that betrayal is always imminent. Trust simply makes betrayal worse. My village trusted once. The people of my village trusted the empire that was sworn to protect, sworn to aid, sworn to serve. They trusted that it would never betray them. It really is a shame that they all died because of it.
How humorous, that the least trusted of the village, the outcast, was the only one to survive. But maybe it's not so strange at all. After all, when the Empire's Army came swords drawn, I was already prepared and running from the village that I never belonged to. I ran from the village that never treated me as an actual person. I ran far from that place, with no regrets that every foolish person within it would die. Or at least that was the plan. There was one person in the village that showed me compassion. A person I tried to keep out but still broke through. I couldn't leave that person behind. So when the time came to run I grabbed her hand and took her with me.
We ran to the border of the Empire. We ran to the chasm that divides human civilization from the waste lands, the land where no human has every returned. I knew that if we crossed the bridge into the waste lands we would already be considered dead, and be left alone. However we never made it across that bridge. The Empire caught up much faster than I ever expected.
Making it to the bridge, the simple, flimsy, rope bridge that spanned the bottomless abyss, the Empire caught up. Their cavalry was sent ahead to stop us, sent after the two who had escaped. Seeing them I knew we had to hurry, I urged my only friend as we crossed the bridge together. In my panic I quickly moved ahead, why didn't I let her go first? Halfway across the bridge, the sound that haunts me even now sound out, the twang of a bow and the fleshy sound as it hit my friend.
I turned around as I heard the sound and felt her hand loosen from mine. I turned and stared at her with the arrow sticking out the front of her chest. I stared in aghast as she looked up into my eyes, stared at her and listened to her final words from her mouth, "I'm sorry", and watched as she fell into the darkness.
What happened next, I don't know. All I remember is kneeling on the other side of the abyss, staring where my beloved had fallen. Crying endlessly as the world around me burned, burned a dark fire, a fire fueled by my pain. I sat there for two days just crying, and on the third day, when the tears came no more, I felt the presence of a man standing behind me. He offered me a chance, a chance to take out my revenge upon the Empire and all those within it. I gladly accepted. The Empire will pay, it and all those who stand in my way will pay. I will make sure of it.
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