Silver Scar (title subject to change)

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by firejay1, Sep 27, 2014.

  1. I stepped into the tavern with the hood of my cloak up to cover most of my face. The smell hit me like a blow to my face, sharply contrasted to the gentle warmth enveloping me. The numbing bite of the howling wind outside was kept at bay by a fireplace at the other end of the wooden establishment. The cobblestone streets made the little town feel deserted, but the inside of this tavern proved otherwise. A wide variety of the finest humanity had to offer was gathered here, from the drunk, employmentless knights, to those like me - diminutive, secretive figures most of whom appeared to have no weapons. This was home, alright.

    Buying a drink and sitting in a bench in the corner, I surveyed the rest of the scene, recognizing many faces, but not recognizing just as many. Had it really been two years since I'd left? It certainly didn't feel that long. I felt a small, wry grin lift the corners of my lips. While many of the people had changed in this little road-side town, nothing else about it seemed to have. The tavern still had the same bad beer in the same rusty tins, with the same, people-sweat stink. An older woman was animatedly speaking to a pair of heavy-set mercenary folk, who hung on her every word. A pang of guilt stabbed through me. How was mother doing? After the fight, I'd left and not thought about her for two years. I was older now, though, more mature, more ready to listen to her wisdom.

    At least in exchange, I'd be able to regale her with tales of my journey. She always did like a good story, though telling them was always what truly enraptured her. Doubtless, eloquent, over-exaggerated versions of my exploits would be circulating around town within the week. I chuckled, thinking of her.

    Many minutes and a hearty meal later, I found myself strolling along the streets I'd grown up so comfortably in, towards that old, stone building on the edge of town. I closed my eyes to enjoy the crisp scent of the freezing, snow-covered landscape, navigating the streets through habit, which was why I smelt the smoke before I saw it. My eyes flashed open and in the next moment, I was running towards my destination, not in the joy I'd been expecting to return, but in horror. The house was aflame.
  2. It had been a long, boring day... I had been away from my teacher for what... Three? Four weeks now? Or could it have been five? It got harder and harder to track time after years of writing dates at the top of a parchment with some dumb quill. But that was the life I had left behind. One that didn't exist for me anymore. This whole 'rebel against the teacher and run away' deal was meant to be more fun! More exciting! For me there was meant to be danger around every corner, bandits to scare and warriors to burn! But no... So far all I had killed was a couple of large rats. And though their screams were pleasant they were no where near as satisfying as the ones my master made on the night of his death. It was like music, a tune I could never forget.

    I hadn't even come across a village in a while, but as if fate had made it so, pushing through the thick and rather damp forest I arrived. My dark red robe flowing in the evening breeze, my hand shooting to my large pointed hat to stop it from being carried with a force. This was good weather. A fire could easily feed from such an environment and at the thought a sadistic grin crossed my lips. This would be perfect. It took a fair amount of time to pick out a house but by the deductive method of einy meiny miney moe I had decided it to be a rather large little house on this side of the village. There would probably be someone inside. Oh well.

    Within seconds I managed to form a ball of burning flame within my hand, molding it like clay within my fingers as I feel my grin start to widen ever further. I could hardly take the excitement as I tried to stifle my giggles, my eyes tightly shut as I force the ball from my hands. Even with my lids closed it flashed with a magnificent red and yellow, the colours dancing as screams bellowed from the hunger of the flames. I opened my eyes, mouth wide open in giddy awe as I watched the building be consumed by flame. This was amazing. This is what I lived for... It was beautiful.
  3. As I ran into the house without even pausing. Everywhere I went, the fire killed itself, starved of air. "Mother!!!!" I roared into the still burning building. I smashed through chamber after chamber, searching for her frantically. Finally, I heard a woman's voice crying for help. When had my mother's voice become so frail? She had always been so strong, imaginative, funny, full of life. "MOTHER!!" I yelled again. She came out of the last door down the hall, that locked door that had led to my mysterious father's chambers, not that he had ever visited them. She was coughing and holding onto the wall for support. Strands of silver streaked their way through her once jet-black hair, and her brilliant grey eyes were squinted in pain, but it was her. My beautiful, smart, vivacious mother. I stopped for the briefest of seconds. It was a mistake.

    In the moment I paused to let my features flood with relief, one of the burning beams holding the roof fell straight on top of her in a roar of sparks. The moment seemed to happen too slowly and yet too quickly at the same time. The beam loosened, and I could process the slightest twist it made, every detail so clear and sharp. Yet when I looked at my mother, one minute she was there, the next she was gone, never to return. The shock and disbelief paralyzed me. Then, before I even really knew what I was doing, my mouth opened and out of my soul came pouring a wordless scream of pure agony. Air swirled around me quickly, forming a fiery tunnel, making the flames burn higher and brighter. My eyes were blinded with tears, as the hurricane built, before finally splitting the floor beneath me in two. I fell, and the hurricane swept me out of the building, destroying the wall as it went. Against my will, it deposited me into the snow outside the burning house, leaving me with nothing but my grief and.. a book. I didn't notice the book though. That didn't matter right then. Nothing mattered. My hands curled into fists, hung my head, and I wept.

    I looked up and noticed a girl watching the burning house gleefully, even greedily, the gold and red of the conflagration reflected in her eyes. A small lick of flame still danced at the tip of her fingers. I watched her in wordless horror, as the realization that she had set this fire dawned on me. As my world tore itself in two, all my senses numbed, and it was as though I was seeing, hearing, feeling everything through a cotton wall - a haze of pain. This was a dream. This had to be a dream. I continued to stare at the girl, unable to move a single muscle, even breathe.
  4. I continued to watch in awe as every sound of the building caving in on itself was heard to me so clearly through the crackling of the heated fireball. It was so pretty. I just wished everybody could share the feeling I felt now. Or at least, the feeling of the woman inside. The screams had stopped. She was now pure... One with the flame... Heat blasted away at her face and I felt my hair dancing as a large surge of wind pushed her back a step, oh well. Something in there must have been extra flammable. It was then I noticed the baby flames still dancing on my finger tips, begging to join their mother in he grand ball of flame, and so I allowed them, Blowing gently on my fingers to watch them become one with the fire, just like a family reunion... It almost brought a tear to her eye.

    It was then she looked over and into the snow, I was going to leave but that man... as he lay in the snow he was smoking, making steam... was he just in there? Is that why he looked at me so destroyed and broken? How fun. The expression on his face was priceless. Swaying back and forth I blew the golden strands of my hair from my face, giving the obviously mortified man a small and cute wave before making my way back into the forest. If that man had seen me he wouldn't be happy at all... Surely he would tell the whole village and soon they would be yelling to 'burn the witch' oooh! I wish they would chant that for me! I almost wanted to stick around to hear it!

    I set out at a leisurely stroll, humming to myself as the flames still roared behind me, with any luck they would jump to another building and I would hear more screams as I made my exit. If not, that was ok. The look of pure disgust and horror from that one man was enough for me, though I had better keep my wits about me, I never know when he could charge in an angry rage, or he could just sit there and cry. The woman must have been his sister... No no wait! Mother! Those screams were far to frail to be a sister. What a night!
  5. I watched her go. The frail little golden-haired girl had no idea what she had done, did she? Or rather, she knew exactly what she had done, just not what it would bring. Hatred raged through my blood violently, but I didn't move. I had stopped crying, though I didn't notice myself smoking. Placing my hands, palms down on the ground, I let two sharp gusts of wind burst from where I was sitting. One wrapped around the house, sucking the air away from the area and instantly neutralizing the fire. Nothing else was burning today. Nothing and no one. The other one sent my voice swishing past the girl.

    "I'm going to hunt you down. By the blood of my father, and the remains of that house, I'm going to find you, and then I'm going to destroy every last bit of your magic, pulling it from your body with you kicking and screaming. My name is Hadrian Auvray. It's fine if you forget it. You'll hear it again." I promised her. It wasn't much of a threat, and I knew it, but it made me feel better, and I knew I was going to go through with it. That horrid, evil witch, whose pretty little face had branded itself into the pair of obsidian black eyes my father had given me, was going to pay. The wind yanked a strand of her hair away from her and brought it back to me, singing softly in self-satisfaction.
  6. At the sound of the threat I couldn't help myself, my joyous giggles carried back by the wind that carried my small strand of hair, so! A challenge and a scream for revenge? This WAS going to be fun. I felt quite happy to hear the name of the man that would try to kill me, he seemed rather passionate, must have loved his old woman, oh well. Surely he will see her again soon enough, especially if he was as angry as that! But as his screams calmed down I pulled a single piece of parchment out from my satchel bag, stabbing it into the tee with a sharp rock. It seemed the man was a magic user like myself, preferring to use the violent, untamed wind instead of my love for the consuming and devouring flame. He knew where I am now so he would find her message, the piece of paper reading :

    "Hello! You have been visited by destruction it seems
    That was probably me, it was fun! We should do it again sometime
    Lots of love! You're gonna have to tell me of your revenge mission when we next meet because soon there's going to be a lot of you!
    Don't be a stranger ok?
    <3 Scarlet Sendara
    (Don't take it personal!)"

    I kept many of the same sheet in that bag, and it was true! On my adventures I planned to make many enemies and that was only the first one! How exciting! I would have to remember the wind mage when he eventually did make his way to her, but for now I'm a little tired... It would probably be best to hurry up and find some sort of small shack or cave, and maybe contain my giggles a little, the man I pissed off could easily still be after me!
  7. I didn't chase her or follow her at all. She was obviously a deranged sadist. The wind retrieved the note she had written for me, and with barely a glance I crumpled it and buried it in the snow. I didn't care what she had to say, or what her name was. The image of her childishly happy face as the flames seemed to be born of her mad eyes - that was all I was ever going to need of hers. I wasn't a fool, if I went after her now, I would get nothing. No. I had to start with the one person who could tell me how to do as I had promised. I didn't want to kill her, just rob her of all her power, and if I was going to do that... I would have to find him. Without really thinking about it, I held the book protectively to my chest and wrapped my cloak carefully around me and stood. I still felt a bit like I was floating in a cloudy dreamland, but that was good. If I was lucky, this self-sedation would keep up throughout my meeting. Maybe that was a bit much to hope for. I had to find him first, and who knew how long that would take. No, I fully expected the girl to forget me as she went her merry way making enemies of people, right up until the day I ripped that precious magic of hers right out of her system.

    With nothing but the book, the wind, and the coins from my pouch, I began trudging in the opposite direction from the sadist, recalling my mother's stories. She had only ever found him on the highest cliff of the mountain, where her love of adventure had once taken her, and her love of him had taken her every time afterwards. I looked up at the dark, snow-filled sky and took a deep, calming breath. It was time to start again. I had come back here to reconnect with my old life, only to find a new life waiting for me once again, it seemed. The wind giggled and blew some snow happily into my hair. "You shut up." I growled at it, scowling, but it just laughed. Laughed the way that girl had, the way he had when he last left, and the way I had once a long time ago, a time I didn't know then I would regret for the rest of my life.
  8. I let out a long sigh, smiling wide as I arrived in a large field, like a clearing in the woods. In the darkness of night the only thing that illuminated the place was the single, small fire that shimmered on the tip of my index finger, and the beautiful stars that twinkled in the sky. An old friend had told me that the stars were huge balls of fire miles and miles away, but that crazy coot was also my father, and I hated my father... The crazy senile waste of life was the one who sent me to my magic teacher 'you have so much talent' he would say 'it needs to be harnessed' he would go on... What a weird old man. He just wanted to get rid of me and reap the rewards of a single life. I can remember the nights where I was aloud to go home, I would end up at the door to her old home, hearing my father talk to some whore like she was an angel. Nothing satisfied me more than his funeral. It's what gave me the love for the last breath of others... and even though I wasn't the one who killed father I wish I was... It would have been poetic.

    Luckily in the middle of the field sat a large abandoned shack. The bed inside was dirty and a little torn up, but a bed was a bed, and with the old shacks lack of a roof I could look up into the sky at the large balls of fire, one day I would make a star... That was my dream. To summon a star and send it into the sky, track it through the nights and be able to tell everyone "You see that bright light up there? I made that... and if you mess with me I'l make another right where you live". The thought of it made me giggle with joy as I lay back onto the sheets, letting out a yawn. Today had been a good day and I had made progress! My first enemy! Maybe tomorrow I could even gain a helper... Someone desperate enough to do anything I wanted... Yes... that would indeed be fun.
  9. I made it to the top of the mountain some weeks after having set out. The wind didn't listen to me up here, slicing through my hair angrily. I didn't like this place anymore than it liked me. I could feel myself losing my temper. I hadn't slept well because of the cold, and now wasn't sure why I had even come. "Mother's dead." I let those words be all my summons for him. Of course, he came. He came swirling down on the wind like the god many people on this mountain still worshiped. I looked a lot like him, with my unnaturally dark hair and pale skin, and elfish, pointy features, but I had unfortunately also inherited my mother's delicate build as well, making me rather feminine in overall appearance.

    He stood tall on his little cloud and crossed his arms, looking imposing, as usual. "You think I don't know that, guttersnipe? I-"

    "You know all that the winds see on the ground. Yes, I know. That's not why I'm here, and you know it." I told him, scowling fiercely.

    He didn't scowl, just raised his eyebrows slightly. "I know what you want. What are you going to give me for it? If I were planning to kill the girl in vengeance, do you not think I would have done so already?"

    "You can't." I spat at him. "I know your rules. That's why you gave me the book, isn't it? The one I can't open." The book that the wind had swept into my arms when it had whisked me out of the building had been one of the books kept in my father's locked room at the end of the hall. It was a stormy blue, with a soft, worn leather cover. Its pages also happened to be completely frozen together. I would have wondered why that didn't damage the pages, but I knew perfectly well that it was a spellbook, despite the lack of a title, from the aura it held.

    My father's face broke into a cruel, proud smile. "We're not allowed to... interfere with you mortals' lives, as you know, but that book is stuck shut for a reason, son."

    "I know. That's why you need to teach me to open it. Make me stronger. You owe mother that much at least."

    He laughed. "I'll teach you, alright, but not because of some foolish notion of duty. Because I want her death avenged, and because you finally have come to learn how to control your powers. You've wasted your powers far too long."

    I scowled at him again, but couldn't argue. "Yes." I admitted through clenched teeth. "Please teach me, father."