Mass_Explosive
New member
Well, here's another part of a story I've been thinking of in my mind. Maybe it's good, maybe it's garbage. If you guys give this a few likes I might keep posting some of these, and if you don't like it well, let's just not go there.
Sweat dripped down my face on this god forsaken day. The sun stood over the camp beating us down with its vicious rays, though not as vicious as Sting, our cursed Taskmaster. The man, though he probably was some demon cursed to watch us, surveyed us as we cut trees down and prepared logs to be carried back to the prison. His purplish eyes saw all that went on, and today he was in a foul mood. It seemed that even he was not immune to the Sun's heat.
I stood momentarily to wipe the sweat from my eyes. The salt of my sweat burning them, blurring my vision. Then with unreal speed, Sting was upon me. CRACK! The pain of his leather whip raked across my back. "Get back to work scum. I didn't say you could stop working." Normally, you would watch new prisoners cry complaints back, but that'd only earn them more lashes, and possibly worse. I had learned that lesson all too well as the scar upon my right cheek testified to my defiance.
I turned back to my stack of logs and picked up two and placed them down in a cart. Sting's eyes glared upon my back, I could almost feel them tearing into my soul, as if he were looking for the slightest hint of rebellion. Hearing a slight grunt of approval that I had returned to my job, Sting's attention turned elsewhere.
My name is Thomas Gleam, but I haven't been called that in over six years. Having been sold into slavery at the age of eleven, I was given the name of Sticks, due to my scrawny size. It was far from easy being sold by your father to pay for his gambling debts. The slaver traders almost didn't buy me due to my size, but somehow my father convinced them that I was talented in other areas. After that day I never saw my family again, and haven't either. No one fought for me, no one cared to speak up against my father. The only person I can't blame was my younger sister, she barely could even speak at the time, let alone understand what was happening.
After being sold I told myself I'd earn my way out of slavery. I'd find a good master, impress him somehow, and then be given my freedom. Unfortunately, the supposed talents my father told the slave traders I had apparently meant I could summon magic. As soon as we entered the city of Yesul, the economic hub of the Waste, the slave traders took me to be tested for magical abilities. Every child was tested at the age of 18 by royal decree, but if you showed promise at an earlier age you were taken by the Magi to be trained as one of their ranks and eventually fill some role in society. Unfortunately for me, not only did I not show any magical ability, I also managed to be the lowest scoring subject in over one hundred years.
My life from that moment on was determined to be hard labor, poor working conditions, and a life expectancy of twenty-seven, if I was lucky. Eventually I tried to flee from my masters, but was caught and expelled to this slave prison camp. Thinking I could fight for my freedom here, I learned what it meant to feel the Sting's blade.
I finished loading my cart and walked around to let the guard know it was full. He gave a slight grunt and then whipped the reins, sending the mules forward on their trek back to the main camp. Guessing that I was free for a few moments I headed to a nearby tree to rest for a moment with some of the other prisoners. I could tell they were as weary as I felt. The Sun was utterly brutal today, as if it had decided today was a good day to curse our existence upon the planet a bit more.
Walking to the group I nodded to them and took my place in the shade, listening in to the current conversation of the day. I leaned my head back upon the grass and closed my eyes for a moment to gain a bit of reprieve.
"It seems that the city is soon to dissolve the Magi's Guild after the Prince's encounter with them. I guess he didn't realize when they said 'You'll become a toad' they really meant it. Good thing they returned him to his normal form else they would all be hanging from the walls." said the man named Kurtz, a sandy haired blonde. He was caught sleeping with his master's wife, but somehow had swooned her enough to be sent here rather than being dragged around the city by a horse, as his master had so vehemently demanded. He was our informer of knowledge from the outside world and supplier of many illicit materials.
"Ah, who cares if those old fools die. They cause more trouble in the city than help. Don't you know they steal children from their beds and cast them into their ritual fires." spoke Gentle Ben, though don't let his name fool you. The man was a mass of muscle. He was stronger than any man I had seen, and even Sting thought twice before giving him any problems.
He had once been a powerful warrior in the Demon wars, having claimed over fifty kills to his sword alone. However, the war had driven he near mad. He became prone to fits of depression and then violent, uncontrollable rage. Afterwards he would remember nothing of what he did. Thus was the story the day his son walked in upon Ben during one of his fits. That day haunted him forever, and since then he vowed to never wield the sword again. He says he ended up in the prison camp after numerous bar fights, but there are rumors he put himself here on purpose to protect those he loved.
"What do you think Sticks? What should the Royal family do about the Magi?" asked Ben.
"Ah Ben, don't ya know? Sticks is too dumb to even know how to serve those most 'High and Powerful' Magi."
"Cut him some slack Mills. The boy is almost eighteen, he'll be up for retesting again, and who knows, maybe he might have learned something." said another one of the prisoners named Ricks
"From you Ricks? If you mean which way to piss, then yeah, he might've learned that from you, otherwise I sure a rock could do better than he could." said Mills.
Many of the other prisoners rolled their eyes, for they knew what Mills was about to say. "You guys don't realize it, but I scored," he was cut off as the others said in unison, "a sixty on the test." His face showing the slight bit of annoyance at this Mills continued with his proclamation of greatness, "As I was saying, yes, I scored a sixty, meaning that I could very well be summoning great Elementals right now, or sending a great snowstorm across the wastes."
"Well if that's the case, why don't you send us a nice rain shower about now then your 'High and Powerful Magi Mill'." jested Ben. The others joined with Ben in his joke.
I sat there taking it all in, when Ben finally asked me, "Now I for one really want to know what's going on in that head of yours Sticks. So go ahead and tells us, or I might split it apart myself to find out."
I sat up, rubbed my eyes and looked around at my compatriots sitting in a circle under the shade. All their eyes stared at me, Ricks, one named Slater, Mills, Kurtz, Gentle Ben, and another named Tully. Taking a breath I collected my thoughts, what did I really think of the Magi? I was rejected by them, but at such an early age. I've matured nearly seven years now.
"Well, they have done a lot of good for the people. They protected the crops during that locust plague last year."
"Yeah, a plague which they caused" chimed Mills,
"Let the boy speak, I want to hear what he says, cause if you don't I'll rip that smart tongue out of your head." said Gentle Ben.
Mills grunted something unintelligible, but deciding not to push Ben today just stared down at the ground. I nodded at Ben, and then continued.
"True, they did cause that, but I think they really do a lot of good for us, well not us particularly, but I mean the commoners as a whole. They aren't all powerful, but they do use their power for good when the need arises. Many pandemics have overlooked our realm because of them, and our enemies don't dare attack us, directly at least. So, if I had to choose I side, I'd side with the Magi. I just think most people use them as a scapegoat and don't look at all the good they do."
I watched as most everyone, except Kurtz and Ben, groaned or rolled their eyes. I knew my view wasn't very well thought of in the realm, and I could tell even Ben didn't fully agree, but at least they respected my views, which was all that we required of each other.
It would seem though that our conversation would have to be postponed till later as Sting had begun to make his rounds back towards us. Deciding I didn't want to earn another lashing, I headed with the others to help finish chopping up the last remaining trees. As I walked from shade to sun, I was immediately reminded of today's accursed weather. I thought to myself that even the smallest of clouds would be amazing. I stared at the sky for a moment, scanning it for any signs of hope, yet none appeared. It would seem that life would go on, as it always had.
Sweat dripped down my face on this god forsaken day. The sun stood over the camp beating us down with its vicious rays, though not as vicious as Sting, our cursed Taskmaster. The man, though he probably was some demon cursed to watch us, surveyed us as we cut trees down and prepared logs to be carried back to the prison. His purplish eyes saw all that went on, and today he was in a foul mood. It seemed that even he was not immune to the Sun's heat.
I stood momentarily to wipe the sweat from my eyes. The salt of my sweat burning them, blurring my vision. Then with unreal speed, Sting was upon me. CRACK! The pain of his leather whip raked across my back. "Get back to work scum. I didn't say you could stop working." Normally, you would watch new prisoners cry complaints back, but that'd only earn them more lashes, and possibly worse. I had learned that lesson all too well as the scar upon my right cheek testified to my defiance.
I turned back to my stack of logs and picked up two and placed them down in a cart. Sting's eyes glared upon my back, I could almost feel them tearing into my soul, as if he were looking for the slightest hint of rebellion. Hearing a slight grunt of approval that I had returned to my job, Sting's attention turned elsewhere.
My name is Thomas Gleam, but I haven't been called that in over six years. Having been sold into slavery at the age of eleven, I was given the name of Sticks, due to my scrawny size. It was far from easy being sold by your father to pay for his gambling debts. The slaver traders almost didn't buy me due to my size, but somehow my father convinced them that I was talented in other areas. After that day I never saw my family again, and haven't either. No one fought for me, no one cared to speak up against my father. The only person I can't blame was my younger sister, she barely could even speak at the time, let alone understand what was happening.
After being sold I told myself I'd earn my way out of slavery. I'd find a good master, impress him somehow, and then be given my freedom. Unfortunately, the supposed talents my father told the slave traders I had apparently meant I could summon magic. As soon as we entered the city of Yesul, the economic hub of the Waste, the slave traders took me to be tested for magical abilities. Every child was tested at the age of 18 by royal decree, but if you showed promise at an earlier age you were taken by the Magi to be trained as one of their ranks and eventually fill some role in society. Unfortunately for me, not only did I not show any magical ability, I also managed to be the lowest scoring subject in over one hundred years.
My life from that moment on was determined to be hard labor, poor working conditions, and a life expectancy of twenty-seven, if I was lucky. Eventually I tried to flee from my masters, but was caught and expelled to this slave prison camp. Thinking I could fight for my freedom here, I learned what it meant to feel the Sting's blade.
I finished loading my cart and walked around to let the guard know it was full. He gave a slight grunt and then whipped the reins, sending the mules forward on their trek back to the main camp. Guessing that I was free for a few moments I headed to a nearby tree to rest for a moment with some of the other prisoners. I could tell they were as weary as I felt. The Sun was utterly brutal today, as if it had decided today was a good day to curse our existence upon the planet a bit more.
Walking to the group I nodded to them and took my place in the shade, listening in to the current conversation of the day. I leaned my head back upon the grass and closed my eyes for a moment to gain a bit of reprieve.
"It seems that the city is soon to dissolve the Magi's Guild after the Prince's encounter with them. I guess he didn't realize when they said 'You'll become a toad' they really meant it. Good thing they returned him to his normal form else they would all be hanging from the walls." said the man named Kurtz, a sandy haired blonde. He was caught sleeping with his master's wife, but somehow had swooned her enough to be sent here rather than being dragged around the city by a horse, as his master had so vehemently demanded. He was our informer of knowledge from the outside world and supplier of many illicit materials.
"Ah, who cares if those old fools die. They cause more trouble in the city than help. Don't you know they steal children from their beds and cast them into their ritual fires." spoke Gentle Ben, though don't let his name fool you. The man was a mass of muscle. He was stronger than any man I had seen, and even Sting thought twice before giving him any problems.
He had once been a powerful warrior in the Demon wars, having claimed over fifty kills to his sword alone. However, the war had driven he near mad. He became prone to fits of depression and then violent, uncontrollable rage. Afterwards he would remember nothing of what he did. Thus was the story the day his son walked in upon Ben during one of his fits. That day haunted him forever, and since then he vowed to never wield the sword again. He says he ended up in the prison camp after numerous bar fights, but there are rumors he put himself here on purpose to protect those he loved.
"What do you think Sticks? What should the Royal family do about the Magi?" asked Ben.
"Ah Ben, don't ya know? Sticks is too dumb to even know how to serve those most 'High and Powerful' Magi."
"Cut him some slack Mills. The boy is almost eighteen, he'll be up for retesting again, and who knows, maybe he might have learned something." said another one of the prisoners named Ricks
"From you Ricks? If you mean which way to piss, then yeah, he might've learned that from you, otherwise I sure a rock could do better than he could." said Mills.
Many of the other prisoners rolled their eyes, for they knew what Mills was about to say. "You guys don't realize it, but I scored," he was cut off as the others said in unison, "a sixty on the test." His face showing the slight bit of annoyance at this Mills continued with his proclamation of greatness, "As I was saying, yes, I scored a sixty, meaning that I could very well be summoning great Elementals right now, or sending a great snowstorm across the wastes."
"Well if that's the case, why don't you send us a nice rain shower about now then your 'High and Powerful Magi Mill'." jested Ben. The others joined with Ben in his joke.
I sat there taking it all in, when Ben finally asked me, "Now I for one really want to know what's going on in that head of yours Sticks. So go ahead and tells us, or I might split it apart myself to find out."
I sat up, rubbed my eyes and looked around at my compatriots sitting in a circle under the shade. All their eyes stared at me, Ricks, one named Slater, Mills, Kurtz, Gentle Ben, and another named Tully. Taking a breath I collected my thoughts, what did I really think of the Magi? I was rejected by them, but at such an early age. I've matured nearly seven years now.
"Well, they have done a lot of good for the people. They protected the crops during that locust plague last year."
"Yeah, a plague which they caused" chimed Mills,
"Let the boy speak, I want to hear what he says, cause if you don't I'll rip that smart tongue out of your head." said Gentle Ben.
Mills grunted something unintelligible, but deciding not to push Ben today just stared down at the ground. I nodded at Ben, and then continued.
"True, they did cause that, but I think they really do a lot of good for us, well not us particularly, but I mean the commoners as a whole. They aren't all powerful, but they do use their power for good when the need arises. Many pandemics have overlooked our realm because of them, and our enemies don't dare attack us, directly at least. So, if I had to choose I side, I'd side with the Magi. I just think most people use them as a scapegoat and don't look at all the good they do."
I watched as most everyone, except Kurtz and Ben, groaned or rolled their eyes. I knew my view wasn't very well thought of in the realm, and I could tell even Ben didn't fully agree, but at least they respected my views, which was all that we required of each other.
It would seem though that our conversation would have to be postponed till later as Sting had begun to make his rounds back towards us. Deciding I didn't want to earn another lashing, I headed with the others to help finish chopping up the last remaining trees. As I walked from shade to sun, I was immediately reminded of today's accursed weather. I thought to myself that even the smallest of clouds would be amazing. I stared at the sky for a moment, scanning it for any signs of hope, yet none appeared. It would seem that life would go on, as it always had.