Role Playing Fan Fiction ❯ Purifying Hand of Flame ❯ Chapter 9
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Magical Savior 
Miscellaneous: Role Playing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Fantasy / Drama / Adventure / Action | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 01.14.2007 | Updated On: 01.18.2007 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.3K | Visits: 207 | Status: Work In Progress
Miscellaneous: Role Playing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Fantasy / Drama / Adventure / Action | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 01.14.2007 | Updated On: 01.18.2007 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.3K | Visits: 207 | Status: Work In Progress
Disclaimer. This story was created in the setting of White-Wolf's Exalted. Characters created by White-Wolf and not myself will be credited in notes. Reference to White-Wolf canonical storyline and published work will probably not be bothered with; it's part of the setting, which I admit to stealing whole cloth. I, Magical Savior, do not own this series and am not affiliated with White-Wolf in any way. Moving on.
*** Chapter 9
My plan wasn't that good. I blended in well when I showed up shirtless with my robe-top tied around my waist; apparently that was men's style, here. But there were some problems.
In my own village, there is a tradition of hospitality. Here, not so much. It wasn't that they weren't generous people, or that they were cruel and didn't want to help me.
I had spent the last few days in an abandoned house outside of the village, regaining my strength. Frankly, I'm not sure how I got out of there alive. Most of them spoke not the language of the Imperial Realm, but Riverspeak. Only those who dealt with outsiders had bothered to learn it.
The past few days had been hectic.
I decided to go with a story that was partly truth. I was still injured from last night, so when I came in the village, I lied. Said I was a traveller who had been attacked by a zombie horde on the road which had continued on single-mindedly after mauling me, leaving me for dead.
And I had lost my way along the road to Thorns.
This was a mistake, because apparently Thorns had been destroyed by demons several years ago. If I wanted to go there, I must be a demon.
At that point, I fought like a demon. I killed no one, but by the time I was done, I was... the worse for wear. It ended with me having a very close conversation with the "leader" of this backwoods swamp while perhaps twenty people looked on with bows and arrows. I held a knife to his throat.
I managed to negotiate for my right to be alive, and to come and go freely during the day. I even managed to get bandages for all of my new injuries, and leave before I healed too much to spook them again. I guess everything went according to plan. If I'd had a real plan, it could have gone worse, I suppose.
This was my formal introduction.
Everything was explained simply after I was introduced to the village elder. People were only welcome to visit during daylight hours; if you were a visitor to the village and decided to overstay your welcome, you were politely shown to the edge of the village and told to make your way.
Refuse to leave, and you were politely killed with spears, clubs, or axes. Not my idea of "killing with kindness," exactly.
Exceptions were made only for messengers, who moved on after delivering their message. As a joke, I asked if they were any messengers lately.
They didn't laugh. They didn't say anything at all.
They might not have hospitality, but they believed in forgive and forget. Or, forget, at least. I became one of those things which was not open to discussion, a decree of sorts, that they had a word for.
More importantly, I had got what I left in the town square, but I'll get to that.
Thorns wasn't very far from here. The villagers would, supposedly, know best. But it couldn't have been destroyed YEARS ago. I had bought guild shipments of spice sent upriver from Thorns only months ago in Nexus, and I had been north of Thorns in Lookshy only weeks ago.
Demonic forces which caused the destruction of one of the three largest cities in the East had not been major news, and I had been IN the other two largest cities in the East. Laughable.
I could get very little information. There were many things which were not open to discussion. It worked in my favor that I was able to be counted as one of those things, but I needed to know more.
There was only one old man who would take the time to really talk to me. He sat near the middle of the square, near my giant handprint. It was only with great care I was able to talk to him.
He was the girl's grandfather.
Apparently, the village always had a "spirit-woman" who spoke to the ancestors and guided the living by their path. The previous spirit-woman had died, and a new spirit woman was chosen - her.
From what had been explained to me, three days ago, a demon had been summoned by the new spirit woman. The demon killed many of the villagers, and then fled. Some people wanted vengeance against the demon for killing their people, others against the spirit-woman for summoning it.
While they were deciding what to do, the demon attacked, this time using the dead villagers as puppets. The demons were driven back, but their goal seemed to be the capture of the spirit-woman. It was decided fairly quickly what should be done then.
I had seen the results of it outside of town, and it sickened me a bit more every time I thought of it. Even in the worst of motivations, in malice and vengeance, humainty has no low it cannot stoop to.
When a messenger of the gods came back to place their problem on the doorstep, the villagers did the only thing they felt they could do - ignore it.
Apparently, the woman I had saved had not been touched. Nor moved. Nor looked at. She was one of those "things," that which was simply not discussed.
I shrugged my shoulders. "Anaji, I've been talking talking to you for some time, now," I said. "Why haven't you called your own granddaughter by name?"
"I can't," he said. "It isn't my choice. I couldn't stop it." His voice was shaking. He couldn't meet my eyes.
"It's alright," I said. In truth, I had no sympathy. Do what is right. "What can be done?"
Anaji swallowed, holding back a flood of tears. "Nothing. I can't do anything." His shuolders heaved and he put his head in his hands, but I heard only hard breathing and dry swallows of raw, tearing emotion. "I couldn't stop them before, and I... And I...."
I nodded. Since this was the situation, he wasn't allowed to help her. He couldn't touch her or try and talk to her. All that was left to him was to see that no one else could, either.
He had a hatchet to make sure no one touched her, but people had seen a messenger of the Gods declare that she was not to be harmed. So they simply expected the problem to solve itself.
The Gods took an interest in her. Let it be their problem, then.
If that was the case...
I put my hand on the old man's shoulder, and he let me. I walked out of the village carrying his grand daughter, and he let me.
No one spoke to me. No one stopped me.
But above all, no one helped me.
*** Chapter 9
My plan wasn't that good. I blended in well when I showed up shirtless with my robe-top tied around my waist; apparently that was men's style, here. But there were some problems.
In my own village, there is a tradition of hospitality. Here, not so much. It wasn't that they weren't generous people, or that they were cruel and didn't want to help me.
I had spent the last few days in an abandoned house outside of the village, regaining my strength. Frankly, I'm not sure how I got out of there alive. Most of them spoke not the language of the Imperial Realm, but Riverspeak. Only those who dealt with outsiders had bothered to learn it.
The past few days had been hectic.
I decided to go with a story that was partly truth. I was still injured from last night, so when I came in the village, I lied. Said I was a traveller who had been attacked by a zombie horde on the road which had continued on single-mindedly after mauling me, leaving me for dead.
And I had lost my way along the road to Thorns.
This was a mistake, because apparently Thorns had been destroyed by demons several years ago. If I wanted to go there, I must be a demon.
At that point, I fought like a demon. I killed no one, but by the time I was done, I was... the worse for wear. It ended with me having a very close conversation with the "leader" of this backwoods swamp while perhaps twenty people looked on with bows and arrows. I held a knife to his throat.
I managed to negotiate for my right to be alive, and to come and go freely during the day. I even managed to get bandages for all of my new injuries, and leave before I healed too much to spook them again. I guess everything went according to plan. If I'd had a real plan, it could have gone worse, I suppose.
This was my formal introduction.
Everything was explained simply after I was introduced to the village elder. People were only welcome to visit during daylight hours; if you were a visitor to the village and decided to overstay your welcome, you were politely shown to the edge of the village and told to make your way.
Refuse to leave, and you were politely killed with spears, clubs, or axes. Not my idea of "killing with kindness," exactly.
Exceptions were made only for messengers, who moved on after delivering their message. As a joke, I asked if they were any messengers lately.
They didn't laugh. They didn't say anything at all.
They might not have hospitality, but they believed in forgive and forget. Or, forget, at least. I became one of those things which was not open to discussion, a decree of sorts, that they had a word for.
More importantly, I had got what I left in the town square, but I'll get to that.
Thorns wasn't very far from here. The villagers would, supposedly, know best. But it couldn't have been destroyed YEARS ago. I had bought guild shipments of spice sent upriver from Thorns only months ago in Nexus, and I had been north of Thorns in Lookshy only weeks ago.
Demonic forces which caused the destruction of one of the three largest cities in the East had not been major news, and I had been IN the other two largest cities in the East. Laughable.
I could get very little information. There were many things which were not open to discussion. It worked in my favor that I was able to be counted as one of those things, but I needed to know more.
There was only one old man who would take the time to really talk to me. He sat near the middle of the square, near my giant handprint. It was only with great care I was able to talk to him.
He was the girl's grandfather.
Apparently, the village always had a "spirit-woman" who spoke to the ancestors and guided the living by their path. The previous spirit-woman had died, and a new spirit woman was chosen - her.
From what had been explained to me, three days ago, a demon had been summoned by the new spirit woman. The demon killed many of the villagers, and then fled. Some people wanted vengeance against the demon for killing their people, others against the spirit-woman for summoning it.
While they were deciding what to do, the demon attacked, this time using the dead villagers as puppets. The demons were driven back, but their goal seemed to be the capture of the spirit-woman. It was decided fairly quickly what should be done then.
I had seen the results of it outside of town, and it sickened me a bit more every time I thought of it. Even in the worst of motivations, in malice and vengeance, humainty has no low it cannot stoop to.
When a messenger of the gods came back to place their problem on the doorstep, the villagers did the only thing they felt they could do - ignore it.
Apparently, the woman I had saved had not been touched. Nor moved. Nor looked at. She was one of those "things," that which was simply not discussed.
I shrugged my shoulders. "Anaji, I've been talking talking to you for some time, now," I said. "Why haven't you called your own granddaughter by name?"
"I can't," he said. "It isn't my choice. I couldn't stop it." His voice was shaking. He couldn't meet my eyes.
"It's alright," I said. In truth, I had no sympathy. Do what is right. "What can be done?"
Anaji swallowed, holding back a flood of tears. "Nothing. I can't do anything." His shuolders heaved and he put his head in his hands, but I heard only hard breathing and dry swallows of raw, tearing emotion. "I couldn't stop them before, and I... And I...."
I nodded. Since this was the situation, he wasn't allowed to help her. He couldn't touch her or try and talk to her. All that was left to him was to see that no one else could, either.
He had a hatchet to make sure no one touched her, but people had seen a messenger of the Gods declare that she was not to be harmed. So they simply expected the problem to solve itself.
The Gods took an interest in her. Let it be their problem, then.
If that was the case...
I put my hand on the old man's shoulder, and he let me. I walked out of the village carrying his grand daughter, and he let me.
No one spoke to me. No one stopped me.
But above all, no one helped me.