View Full Version : ~ Flames at his Fingertips ~

Dr Skottie
09-20-2004, 07:47 AM
Flames at his Fingertips


Before time, before memory, a distant and vague dream of
existence. In an age where magik was feared and those
that wielded it were hated. A giant continent on an
endless sea. Death and disaster reigned supreme.

A light suddenly shot out, an explosion of hope and
life. A mighty warrior and a powerful majik wielder
cleaved a path of righteousness in the darkness. Together
they were unbeatable. Together they unified the land and
together they ruled it with Justice. But it was not to

Many of the people feared the Majik Wielder. He was
no different than the monsters he had slain to save them.
Driven by the crying of the masses, The Warrior King
betrayed The Majik Wielder, casting him from the tower
into the Raging River. As the Majik Wielder struggled
from the water, the Majik haters tried to kill him.

Shielding himself with Majik he cried out in a loud
voice towards the Warrior King's Tower. “Betrayer of Trust and Friendships! There will
come a day where Majik Wielders will be treated with
respect and not shunned, but it is not this day. I
abandon you Warrior King!”

The Majik Wielder, together with other Majik users
and any who did not persecute them, fled the castle and
the kingdom and traveled south, crossing over the
Mountains of Haven.

Alas, The Majik Wielder died on the
mountain pass, falling over a waterfall, never to be
heard from again. However the masses of people who had
followed him, made it to the other side and set up their
own kingdom. The Kingdom of the South. And they lived
peacefully. But peace never lasts...
- The History of the South Kingdom ~ The Keeper

Chapter I - Tears

Kenji waited.
Spear held at the ready, he gazed down into the water as he balanced precariously on
the little bamboo raft. Constructed by tying five trunks together with rope made by the
women in the village, it provided the most unimposing vessel from which to fish
from. Kenji shivered in the chilly pre-dawn air, and with one hand, held is ill-fitting
leather jacket closer to his lithe muscular body.

He chastised himself for fidgeting. Strong men didn’t fidget, only children did.
He tried to stay as silent and still as possible as he waited for the first sign of his prey
to show the flick of a tail. He shifted grip on his spear. He knew that the first
unfortunate fish to rear it’s ugly head would be wiggling on the end of it before it
knew what hit it. He had sharpened the tip before setting out here. That had been three
hours ago, and he had nothing to show for it.

Kenji knew he should be concentrating but being seventeen, his mind started
to wander. The light is too bad at the moment anyway, he thought. By the light of the
moon it was easy to spot any ripple that might traverse the surface of the water and by
day, you could easily glimpse the fish a few metres below the surface. But in this
hour; in the grey haze where the stars starting extinguishing their lights; before the sun
rose, it was almost impossible.

So he took his eyes from the slow moving water that his little raft floated on.
The River is what they simply called it. “They” being him and the rest of his village. It
wasn’t the only body of water they knew of. There were only three in the valley in
which they lived. There was The Pond where the drinking water was drawn; and The
Stream where the little ones played.

But the River... The River was the domain of men. It was a sacred place, the
giver of life. The rest of Kenji’s tribe relied heavily on the fish that the men caught
from these waters. Kenji felt honoured to be out here. He was keeping the tribe alive.
And he was alone. Alone, away from sneering faces and staring eyes. Brown eyes.
Normal eyes...

Kenji carefully lowered himself to the deck of his raft and sat. He peered into
the water again but this time not for fish. This time for an answer. An answer to why
he was different...

Blue eyes... white blue eyes. His reflection peered back at him hauntingly from
the reflective surface of the water.

Kenji had a dark olive complexion, the same as the rest of his tribesman, the
same elvin ears. The same dark hair. But unlike his friends, his relatives, his people,
he had blue eyes, not the normal brown.

His mother had told him that the village elders had wished to kill him when he
had been born. Prophesying that his stark difference meant disaster for his people. A
demon child they had yelled. Kenji remembered the story of what his father had done.
He had begged the village elders to take his life instead, that the life of his son would
be saved. The elders thought this appropriate, thinking it would appease the God of
good fortune enough to counteract any effects this baby might have. The story was a
legend. As Kenji stared at his reflection, he wished his father had chosen otherwise.

It had not ended there. His peers were either afraid of him or mocked him
because of his eye colour. Not for the first time he wondered why and cursed the fact
that he was different. She was afraid of him... pretty Sakura, the young woman he
longed for avoided him whenever possible.

That’s why he was out here on the river. Not just to fish, but to be away from
people. He was happy when he was alone and his tribesmen were happy when he was

A tear fell and broke the water sending ripples out. He wiped his face angrily.
Men didn’t cry.

It wasn’t all bad. His mother loved him. And he had his one and only friend.
Fat Tomu, his Uncle. Kenji smiled. Fat Tomu, the one who had stopped him putting
mud in his eyes when he was little. Why are you doing that for Kenji Blue-eyes? he
had asked kindly. I want brown eyes, Kenji had replied.

Kenji laughed despite himself. That story always made him forget about his troubles. He looked about and noticed it was considerably lighter. Just then, the sun peaked its
head up over the shoulder of the mountain and Kenji squinted at the sudden
brightness. He rubbed his eyes and stood up. He suddenly wondered what was beyond
those mountains. No one knew for sure. The end of the world maybe. A barren
wasteland perhaps. All Kenji knew, was that everyone who had left the valley had
never returned.


There it was, a flicker of movement. Lighting fast the spear was in and out of the
water, going in clean and sharp, coming out with a fish skewered on the end of it.
Kenji smiled; the first catch of the day. He flicked it off the spear into the little reed basket
that was tied onto the raft. He took up position again and waited.

Hoenn Mirror Girl
10-02-2004, 03:45 PM
Dang... I wanted to read this, but Skottie requested me to close this.

*This thread has been locked. What rotten luck.