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Xeios

You WANKER!








Since: 08-16-04

Since last post: 2875 days
Last activity: 1045 days
Posted on 01-12-08 04:58 AM Link | Quote
Ok, as of yet, I do not have a title for this, and do not know whether it will be a short story, or something more. I have a good amount of the backstory complete, which will be fleshed out through the eyes of different characters, though it will mostly revolve around this character here. Let me know what you think.




Dazzlingly bright sun, go away. A man stood, watching over the desert. Where once there was a beauteous city, now, nothing but ruins. He had only read about it, seen pictures, but never truly witnessed. All that was now gone, ruined buildings littered his view. Some tall, most short, not much left to any of them. A shadow of their former glory. Pale blue eyes glistened beneath dark goggles. With a sigh of relief, and a turn, the man made his way back to his steed.

Hooves striking the orange earth, kicking bursts of dust into the air, belonged to the man?s faithful golden-maned mare. Her name was Isabelle, and her rider was more unknown than known. Not that he was notorious for withholding his name, but rather seemed unimportant and uninteresting to most folks. He spoke little to those he acquainted, and had few good friends. Traversing the desert meant endless time to be lost in one?s mind, to one?s thoughts. Names lost importance, especially your own. Isabelle was good company though, and her rider spoke to her frequently. Trying to comfort the beast in times of hardship, the mare lent a gentle prodding head to her owner when he was searching for solace.

A strange balance, in the desert, days lasted unbearably long, but left no standing memory. If the man were to search his mind for a time before the monotony of his journey, he could recall events quite clearly, but any point during his journey, he would be unable to recall a certain event. If asked how many days he was gone, an answer would not come to mind. His solidarity had lasted for over six months. Water being scarce as it was, he made for watering holes every five days. He only did this at night, so as to not break his oath. His journey was worth more than any could know. The horse did not lead away from the sight of the ruins, but toward them, rather. He had reached his destination.

There was a large building, the only one which had been fully repaired, or perhaps undamaged. Isabelle marched toward this building, knowing instinctively where to go. And after coming to a stop, she let her rider down. The rider pat her snout in appreciation, the mare caught sight of a feed and water trough, and galloped giddily to the marvelous feast. Several men, wearing long brown robes and talking merrily were just inside the foyer. The wanderer stepped forward, lowered the tan scarf around his face, and raised the goggles onto his forehead. His right hand, wrapped in tan cloth, stretched through the entrance and opened, exposing a brilliant golden cross with equal arms. The cloaked gentlemen rushed upon him, and invited him in, asking how they could be of service. The traveler asked for a bath, bed, and a stable for his companion.

After his bath, and a short rest, a tall man, cloaked in the robes of the others, entered. ?I am Brother Hector, and I will be in charge of your lodging during your visit. I trust your pilgrimage went well, Sir Knight??
?Harder than expected; although, the Lord seemed to favor my journey.? The wanderer breathed in deeply, he now held his rank, something he had wanted for years. ?Brother, I ask you to please humble me until the ceremony is complete.?
?Very well, Sir Squire.? Hector smiled brightly upon seeing the display of humility, which would serve the Knight well. ?So, Sir Squire, the ceremony shall begin in a few hours, I trust you?d like to rest until dinner, I assure you it will be the best meal you?ve had in a while.?
?Yes, Brother, thank you, sir.?
?You are welcome, Sir Squire?? Just before Brother Hector exited the room, he remembered something, ?And welcome to the Promised Land, sir, our very own, Jerusalem.? A smile ran across the squire?s face, and he fell into a deep, restful sleep.



(Last edited by Dr. White on 01-12-08 07:58 AM)
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