Story Time!
I've decided to us Kallden's old journal (as you can see, I never used it anyway xD) as a place to keep track of my stories for my characters. The first one will be about my "revolution" krawk. Enjoy.
Cast:
Zyphearr (his name has since changed) 1 2
Kitx (not up the date) Click!
You may be asking yourself “Why does this guy keep talking about rebellion and stuff?”
Well I’ll tell you! It’s really simple, actually. It all started when I was a younger lad…
I used to follow the rules just like everyone else. I grew up just like you did, went to NeoSchool, was nice to my sister, listened to my parents, everything. Surprised? I bet you thought I was some sort of bratty kid that was always getting in to trouble. Well… you thought wrong! But as I got into my teen years, life sort of hit me like a semi-truck. I started to realize that the world was so… unjust. People woke up in the morning, because they were SUPPOSED to. People went to work and school because they were SUPPOSED to. They ate dinner in the evening because they were SUPPOSED to. They watched the news on television because they were SUPPOSED to. Well, I started to realize… why was I SUPPOSED to do any of this stuff? That’s when I started to change…
I started doing things differently. I was almost out of school by this point, and to be honest… it baffled my parents. They didn’t understand why all of the sudden I had become a “problem-child”. They didn’t understand because they’d been raised to do what we’re SUPPOSED to do… I pity them, sometimes. But that isn’t the point. I started breaking my curfew, and going to bed when I felt like it, among other things. And as soon as I was out of school, I bid my family farewell and set out on my own.
It’s always really tough, being out on your own. But the freedom of it is amazing. You can’t even begin to understand unless you’ve tried it for yourself. Needless to say, I was a little lost for a while… but I loved it. I had to… I’d done it to myself. I watched people and their routines, flocking like sheep to places they had to be, their lives ruled by a watch. Everyone had a time to be somewhere… while I strolled along at a pace I made myself. It was wonderful.
You may now be wondering how all of this led to where I am now… well… it’s a sad story, really. Perhaps I should have never become a martyr like I am today, but then again… I regret nothing. Absolutely nothing! And I feel liberated! However, this is how it happened…
It just so happened that a year or two after I’d been living on my own, I left the comfort zone of areas that I was familiar with, and I went traveling. I went many places and met many people in passing, some of which I liked, some of which I didn’t. However, before too long I entered some sort of… broken city. It was weird… buildings were burned down and reeked of some type of war… but it wasn’t one that I’d heard of. I was mystified, so I stupidly continued walking down the street, inspecting the scenery with varying levels of confusion and curiosity.
Just then, there was a loud sound, and a sudden intense pain in my leg. I looked down, registering that I’d been wounded, before looking up again, eyes crossing, vision fading, reeling backwards, falling…
When I awoke, a hazy figure pulled backwards and I heard the words “He’s awake, come’er lads!”. My vision slowly cleared and I saw a growing group of assorted species hovering around me, some looking worried, some with big grins on their faces. I blinked a couple times, and looked down at my leg, seeing that it had been wrapped in a bandage that was tied securely with a red bandana. This was my first bandana… as you can see, I have many more today.
I looked back up at the eyes that were focused on me, and asked, voice much weaker than I’d expected it to be “What’s going on? Where am I? Who are you?”. Some of the people that surrounded me exchanged glances, and one in particular stepped forward. I later knew him as Kitx, he was a bori. The others quieted down while he spoke to me, and I figured he had to be the leader of this operation or something.
“Don’t look so scared, we’re not here to hurt you or anything. You were shot… we found you and brought you back here. As for where ‘here’ is, it’s an abandoned diner, and it’s on our side of the barricade, making it our territory. I’m Kitx. Who’re you?”
I looked at him groggily, taking in what he’d said before I answered myself. “My name is Zyph. I was shot? What’s going on here? Why was I shot at?”
The others exchanged glances again before Kitx spoke, eyes growing somewhat clouded. “Unfortunatly Zyph, you’ve just walked in to a civil war.”
My mind reeled. A civil war? What civil war!? I hadn’t heard anything about this. Once I’d recovered enough from this new information, I managed to get out “Tell me.” Kitx pulled up a chair to my ‘bedside’ (I’d now realized it was a table in the abandoned diner) and began to tell me the story.
Over the next few hours Kitx told me of how the people that were here now had banded together to face off against a common enemy. The people of which he spoke filtered in and out of the diner, and I saw so many faces pass by that I’ve now become familiar with. He told me that there was a common trait between him and all of his ‘comrades’. They believed in individuality… and apparently the destroyed city in which I now inhabited had met some sort of disaster. A person had come in to power here, and had soon abused their power and become like… well, a dictator. Problems arose… the ‘dictator’ had a distinct distaste for those that stood out. Those that made themselves obvious were soon picked off, and this riled up a few people. Some were too meek to speak up, but those that did were soon picked off themselves. It carried on like this until an all-out war broke out, between the supporters of the dictator, and those that opposed her. At this point my ears perked. The dictator was a lass? Well, that didn’t change things. Kitx told me that they’d barricaded themselves off in a part of the town, using it as their vantage point to fight the opposing side, and I’d happened in on the other side of the barricade, close enough though that they saw me get picked off, and went to retrieve me as soon as they could.
After hearing the story, I was ready to help them with their cause. Why? Because… well, they were fighting for things I’d believed in all my life, but had never been able to truly realized until just that moment. Not to mention the fact that they’d saved me, when the other side mowed me down without a care. I told Kitx this, and he clasped my hand with a grateful smile, telling me “We’d love to have you. Welcome aboard, Zy… and thank you.”
Over the next few weeks I had recovered enough from my wound to be able to walk around almost normally with a crutch, as long as I didn’t put too much stress on my wounded leg. It was then that I was introduced to most of the people that I’d seen earlier at my ‘bedside’, and I soon became close to them, closer than I’d ever been to anybody. My first day out of the diner was the first day that I realized the magnitude of their cause, and the first day that I saw the banner that they flew proudly.
It was blue in color, a white bulls-eye centered on it, overlaid by some sort of… stylized something-or-other, and there were also words inscribed on it. I asked the person nearest to me what they said as they hurried by, and she answered me as quickly as possible. “Lotta, libertà del ritrovamento e libertà!, Fight, find freedom and liberty!”. Those words struck me, and I felt a tear form in my eyes before I looked away from the flag.
It wasn’t long before I’d recovered entirely and had joined the ranks. I continued on for many weeks supporting the martyr’s cause, and supporting it at a fever pitch. I felt more alive then I’d ever felt in my life, and I was relishing each moment of it, despite the gravity of what we were doing. We had our losses, but we had our victories as well. It started to look as if we were actually getting somewhere with our crusade against the dictatorship… and all the while I was becoming closer and closer to Kitx. He had become what I would call my best friend.
It was then that tragedy struck. We’d just gone through a bad skirmish with the other side, and were celebrating a victory. We got a little rambunctious and careless… I know this now. Kitx had taking the flag down and had attached it to a staff, and he had scaled the barricade, followed by several of the others. Many of them eventually reached the top, as Kitx held the waving banner into the air, giving a triumphant yell, both fists curled around the flag staff as he thrust it up above his head. The others joined suit, pumping their fists into the air.
They were careless… so careless. I had just begun to scale the barricade myself when a barrage of shots rang out. Before my eyes, my comrades, my friends, were mowed down one by one. I felt as if I’d been shot myself. Their anguish was mine, the pain was felt throughout the ranks beyond the barricade as their bodies fell. Kitx was among the fallen.
I screamed out, falling away from the barricade as those that had been shot tumbled around me, several of them still alive but direly wounded. I leapt back, staring at the carnage, my eyes settling upon the proud flag-bearer, crumpled at the foot of the barricade. I could not help myself, I had begun to cry. I felt ashamed, as I’m sure everyone did at that moment… we could have done something differently, and avoided this predicament entirely. I strode over to my friend and kneeled beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He looked over at me, still alive, and managed a smile, though I could tell that he was fading.
“Take the flag, Zyph.” I looked at him as if he was crazy, tears still coursing down my cheeks. I made to protest, but he quieted me by speaking again, managing to raise his voice. “TAKE IT, Zyph! Take it and fight the fight!” … and then he was gone. My vision, blurry through the tears, focused on the banner that Kitx had held. I reached over him and took it, pushing myself up and away from my friend, but not before I’d made sure to close his eye. He was right. I couldn’t give up. I had to continue until the end.
It’s hard to say what happened next. I think that I went… a little crazy. I was grieved by our loss, and people do… horrible things when they’re grieved. But I can tell you how things ended up… the city was ablaze. And it was my fault. I was driven by the martyr’s cheers, and my own sense of how I had to right what had happened to my friend. My tears were now righteous ones and I scaled building after building, setting them ablaze, the flag staff clutched in my jaws.
And as soon as it had started, it was over. The city was burnt down entirely. There was no more war-there was nowhere to HAVE a war. And I had fled. Perhaps that is the cowards way out, but it’s what I’ve been doing ever since. I took the flag with me, and it is always somewhere nearby me, wherever I go, and whatever injustice I tell myself I’m fighting against.
This is the way of the martyr, and this is my cause.
Cast:
Zyphearr (his name has since changed) 1 2
Kitx (not up the date) Click!
You may be asking yourself “Why does this guy keep talking about rebellion and stuff?”
Well I’ll tell you! It’s really simple, actually. It all started when I was a younger lad…
I used to follow the rules just like everyone else. I grew up just like you did, went to NeoSchool, was nice to my sister, listened to my parents, everything. Surprised? I bet you thought I was some sort of bratty kid that was always getting in to trouble. Well… you thought wrong! But as I got into my teen years, life sort of hit me like a semi-truck. I started to realize that the world was so… unjust. People woke up in the morning, because they were SUPPOSED to. People went to work and school because they were SUPPOSED to. They ate dinner in the evening because they were SUPPOSED to. They watched the news on television because they were SUPPOSED to. Well, I started to realize… why was I SUPPOSED to do any of this stuff? That’s when I started to change…
I started doing things differently. I was almost out of school by this point, and to be honest… it baffled my parents. They didn’t understand why all of the sudden I had become a “problem-child”. They didn’t understand because they’d been raised to do what we’re SUPPOSED to do… I pity them, sometimes. But that isn’t the point. I started breaking my curfew, and going to bed when I felt like it, among other things. And as soon as I was out of school, I bid my family farewell and set out on my own.
It’s always really tough, being out on your own. But the freedom of it is amazing. You can’t even begin to understand unless you’ve tried it for yourself. Needless to say, I was a little lost for a while… but I loved it. I had to… I’d done it to myself. I watched people and their routines, flocking like sheep to places they had to be, their lives ruled by a watch. Everyone had a time to be somewhere… while I strolled along at a pace I made myself. It was wonderful.
You may now be wondering how all of this led to where I am now… well… it’s a sad story, really. Perhaps I should have never become a martyr like I am today, but then again… I regret nothing. Absolutely nothing! And I feel liberated! However, this is how it happened…
It just so happened that a year or two after I’d been living on my own, I left the comfort zone of areas that I was familiar with, and I went traveling. I went many places and met many people in passing, some of which I liked, some of which I didn’t. However, before too long I entered some sort of… broken city. It was weird… buildings were burned down and reeked of some type of war… but it wasn’t one that I’d heard of. I was mystified, so I stupidly continued walking down the street, inspecting the scenery with varying levels of confusion and curiosity.
Just then, there was a loud sound, and a sudden intense pain in my leg. I looked down, registering that I’d been wounded, before looking up again, eyes crossing, vision fading, reeling backwards, falling…
When I awoke, a hazy figure pulled backwards and I heard the words “He’s awake, come’er lads!”. My vision slowly cleared and I saw a growing group of assorted species hovering around me, some looking worried, some with big grins on their faces. I blinked a couple times, and looked down at my leg, seeing that it had been wrapped in a bandage that was tied securely with a red bandana. This was my first bandana… as you can see, I have many more today.
I looked back up at the eyes that were focused on me, and asked, voice much weaker than I’d expected it to be “What’s going on? Where am I? Who are you?”. Some of the people that surrounded me exchanged glances, and one in particular stepped forward. I later knew him as Kitx, he was a bori. The others quieted down while he spoke to me, and I figured he had to be the leader of this operation or something.
“Don’t look so scared, we’re not here to hurt you or anything. You were shot… we found you and brought you back here. As for where ‘here’ is, it’s an abandoned diner, and it’s on our side of the barricade, making it our territory. I’m Kitx. Who’re you?”
I looked at him groggily, taking in what he’d said before I answered myself. “My name is Zyph. I was shot? What’s going on here? Why was I shot at?”
The others exchanged glances again before Kitx spoke, eyes growing somewhat clouded. “Unfortunatly Zyph, you’ve just walked in to a civil war.”
My mind reeled. A civil war? What civil war!? I hadn’t heard anything about this. Once I’d recovered enough from this new information, I managed to get out “Tell me.” Kitx pulled up a chair to my ‘bedside’ (I’d now realized it was a table in the abandoned diner) and began to tell me the story.
Over the next few hours Kitx told me of how the people that were here now had banded together to face off against a common enemy. The people of which he spoke filtered in and out of the diner, and I saw so many faces pass by that I’ve now become familiar with. He told me that there was a common trait between him and all of his ‘comrades’. They believed in individuality… and apparently the destroyed city in which I now inhabited had met some sort of disaster. A person had come in to power here, and had soon abused their power and become like… well, a dictator. Problems arose… the ‘dictator’ had a distinct distaste for those that stood out. Those that made themselves obvious were soon picked off, and this riled up a few people. Some were too meek to speak up, but those that did were soon picked off themselves. It carried on like this until an all-out war broke out, between the supporters of the dictator, and those that opposed her. At this point my ears perked. The dictator was a lass? Well, that didn’t change things. Kitx told me that they’d barricaded themselves off in a part of the town, using it as their vantage point to fight the opposing side, and I’d happened in on the other side of the barricade, close enough though that they saw me get picked off, and went to retrieve me as soon as they could.
After hearing the story, I was ready to help them with their cause. Why? Because… well, they were fighting for things I’d believed in all my life, but had never been able to truly realized until just that moment. Not to mention the fact that they’d saved me, when the other side mowed me down without a care. I told Kitx this, and he clasped my hand with a grateful smile, telling me “We’d love to have you. Welcome aboard, Zy… and thank you.”
Over the next few weeks I had recovered enough from my wound to be able to walk around almost normally with a crutch, as long as I didn’t put too much stress on my wounded leg. It was then that I was introduced to most of the people that I’d seen earlier at my ‘bedside’, and I soon became close to them, closer than I’d ever been to anybody. My first day out of the diner was the first day that I realized the magnitude of their cause, and the first day that I saw the banner that they flew proudly.
It was blue in color, a white bulls-eye centered on it, overlaid by some sort of… stylized something-or-other, and there were also words inscribed on it. I asked the person nearest to me what they said as they hurried by, and she answered me as quickly as possible. “Lotta, libertà del ritrovamento e libertà!, Fight, find freedom and liberty!”. Those words struck me, and I felt a tear form in my eyes before I looked away from the flag.
It wasn’t long before I’d recovered entirely and had joined the ranks. I continued on for many weeks supporting the martyr’s cause, and supporting it at a fever pitch. I felt more alive then I’d ever felt in my life, and I was relishing each moment of it, despite the gravity of what we were doing. We had our losses, but we had our victories as well. It started to look as if we were actually getting somewhere with our crusade against the dictatorship… and all the while I was becoming closer and closer to Kitx. He had become what I would call my best friend.
It was then that tragedy struck. We’d just gone through a bad skirmish with the other side, and were celebrating a victory. We got a little rambunctious and careless… I know this now. Kitx had taking the flag down and had attached it to a staff, and he had scaled the barricade, followed by several of the others. Many of them eventually reached the top, as Kitx held the waving banner into the air, giving a triumphant yell, both fists curled around the flag staff as he thrust it up above his head. The others joined suit, pumping their fists into the air.
They were careless… so careless. I had just begun to scale the barricade myself when a barrage of shots rang out. Before my eyes, my comrades, my friends, were mowed down one by one. I felt as if I’d been shot myself. Their anguish was mine, the pain was felt throughout the ranks beyond the barricade as their bodies fell. Kitx was among the fallen.
I screamed out, falling away from the barricade as those that had been shot tumbled around me, several of them still alive but direly wounded. I leapt back, staring at the carnage, my eyes settling upon the proud flag-bearer, crumpled at the foot of the barricade. I could not help myself, I had begun to cry. I felt ashamed, as I’m sure everyone did at that moment… we could have done something differently, and avoided this predicament entirely. I strode over to my friend and kneeled beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He looked over at me, still alive, and managed a smile, though I could tell that he was fading.
“Take the flag, Zyph.” I looked at him as if he was crazy, tears still coursing down my cheeks. I made to protest, but he quieted me by speaking again, managing to raise his voice. “TAKE IT, Zyph! Take it and fight the fight!” … and then he was gone. My vision, blurry through the tears, focused on the banner that Kitx had held. I reached over him and took it, pushing myself up and away from my friend, but not before I’d made sure to close his eye. He was right. I couldn’t give up. I had to continue until the end.
It’s hard to say what happened next. I think that I went… a little crazy. I was grieved by our loss, and people do… horrible things when they’re grieved. But I can tell you how things ended up… the city was ablaze. And it was my fault. I was driven by the martyr’s cheers, and my own sense of how I had to right what had happened to my friend. My tears were now righteous ones and I scaled building after building, setting them ablaze, the flag staff clutched in my jaws.
And as soon as it had started, it was over. The city was burnt down entirely. There was no more war-there was nowhere to HAVE a war. And I had fled. Perhaps that is the cowards way out, but it’s what I’ve been doing ever since. I took the flag with me, and it is always somewhere nearby me, wherever I go, and whatever injustice I tell myself I’m fighting against.
This is the way of the martyr, and this is my cause.