Just because I love this hampster...
I will now bestow upon you all, the story that I have wirtten so far. Haha. Try not to run away screaming, instead, tell me what you think. It' not finished yet, considering this is just the first chapter.
Chapter One: A very reliable source.
“Useless tome!” I yelled as I tossed a book across my room. It wasn’t the first time. I had been reading a lot of useless books recently. This one was no different, historians claiming it was all legend and bullshit. I was tired of it. I knew in my heart that there were better times, when people did extraordinary feats. All I needed was some proof. I just wanted to know that I wasn’t crazy. I had been awake, reading countless books, for the past month. They were everywhere; jammed behind the refrigerator, all over the floor, in my bathroom, in my make shift bed, on my burner. Most of them deserved that or worse.
“’Scholars!’ Yeah, sure! More like idiots!” I said as I glanced around the room. My house hadn’t been cleaned since I started to go crazy with these books. I hadn’t checked my mail recently either. I figure the power would go out any minute in my tiny studio apartment. I had bee-Oh! I forgot. How rude of me. I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Garrett L. Bushnell. Currently, I’m a writer for a popular magazine called “D&D” which is all about mythology and the sort. I used to be a journalist for a has-been magazine called “True Facts”. I like to call it the National Exaggerator. It was one of those tabloids you see on the streets of New York. They came up with the “Dead alien found making love to Elvis” sort of thing. Let’s just say it wasn’t the best job I’d ever had. I had been looking for something really big that would perhaps get the attention of someone worthwhile-someone who could appreciate my work. I was tired of writing about dogs’ genitals and men giving birth.
When I was a kid I was always obsessed with stories like St. George and the Dragon, that sort of thing. I knew they weren’t true, but at least I could pretend they were. Now I was older. I was about-what-25 when I started this whole thing? Anyway, I decided to look around at books. I found every book I could on ancient mythology. They were all very intriguing, but none of them came close to proving that they were true. Most of them, in fact, were nothing more than textbooks made by professors of God-knows-what. I didn’t really care about their opinion unless they had some hard evidence pointing out that mythical creatures were real, or the stories of mythology were true. I spent a lot of time reading. As I was saying earlier, my house was covered in books. My job didn’t pay too well, even if I did live in Vegas, so I didn’t have much of a house really, more like a hole in the ground with the word “Studio Apartment” stamped on it.
I had just woken up from falling asleep in a pile of books. Normally I would be worried about getting to work, but I knew they didn’t even want me there. They would probably lay me off soon, anyway. I struggled to get off the ground. My back hurt from sleeping on some Aurthurian book I don’t even recall picking up. I lumbered into my kitchenette and grabbed a box of cereal and a cup of coffee I had the previous day. Actually, I never drank it. I poured the coffee into the cereal and then jammed the whole thing into the microwave. I don’t recall what setting it was on, or how long I put it in, because at that moment someone knocked on my door. It was a loud thundering knock. It had to be my acquaintance from work, Robert. Everyone called him “Bobbert”. He was a huge guy, about 6’8” and 300 pounds. I was only 5’8” and 130 pounds, so I found him rather intimidating, with that sadistic grin, innumerable piercings, bright yellow hair and a long goatee. I suspected that he was a drummer for a metal band, or something to that effect. When I opened the door he looked at me and smiled that disturbing smile he always has when he just did something devious.
“Have I got a deal for you, man!” He boomed. If I had any neighbors, they were awake now. Actually, it was about 12:30 so, if I had them, they would’ve all been gone by then anyway.
“What are you selling, Bobbert?” I asked him in the most drowsy tone I could, trying to indicate that I was sleeping.
“Were you sleeping?” he asked.
“Yes.” I replied. “I’d invite you into my home, but I don’t have any furniture.”
“You should get up, you lazy bastard. I’ve been up since six.” He said with an amount of pride. “Anyway, I don’t really care. All I know is that you’ve been snooping around at this mythology shit a lot. I thought I’d give you a helping hand.”
“Wow.” I replied. I really didn’t think he could help. The books I had been reading were written by smart people. How in the world could this guy help me?
“I’m serious here, man. There’s this guy that I know. He knows all about that kinda stuff. I hear you’ve come to a dead end anyway. It couldn’t hurt to talk to the guy.”
I sighed. This was a little unusual, but he was right. I didn’t have much of a choice. I just stood there with my mouth open. I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t surprised, I just really didn’t have anything to say to him.
“Your face is telling me everything. Anyway, here’s the address. Go talk to a guy who goes by the name of Merlin.” He then smashed a post-it note into my forehead and walked away. I pulled it off my head and took a glance. I recognized the address. It was a local bar-a real dump-close to the strip. I had nothing better to do, except clean my apartment.
I got dressed in some clothes that I suspected were clean and went to the address. There were only two people there; an old man sitting out the counter, and the bartender. I looked at them both. Neither seemed to notice I was even there. I walked up to them both and looked around the bar. It wasn’t such a bad place compared to my dank, dark apartment. At least there was a lot of light.
“Which one of you is Merlin?” I asked.
“He is.” The bartender said, as he pointed his thumb at the old man. The old man turned to me and looked me straight in the eye. It was disturbing. His eyes glowed a disturbing, faded blue color. The old man had a scar from his right ear, across his right cheek. I figured he was old because his hair was white, but on closer inspection, he looked like he was in his thirties. I didn’t bother to ask, he looked like he could tear me in half. His arms were huge, and he twitched every now and then as if he was expecting someone to mug him. I didn’t like the looks of it, but I decided that if I was going to die that day, I’d rather have him do it than I would some guy in a dark alley with a baseball bat and a yearning for nothing more than my shoes and wallet.
“Well? Are you just gonna stand there all day? I’m sure you have some reason to come here and talk to a sage like me.” He replied to my question. His voice was surprisingly calming. I half-expected it to send chills down my back.
“Hello, Merlin. I, uh, I’m here to ask you about mythology. I was told to come here by a guy named Bobbert.” I said, as I took a seat next to him.
“Ahhh…” he said with a smile. It was obvious that he was happy about having someone there to talk to. I figured he only saw the bartender most of the time. “Well, which story? I have plenty.”
I hadn’t even thought about that. I didn’t even know what kind of mythology he had in mind. I had no idea what I was looking for. I thought that maybe if I explained to him what it was I needed the information for, he might have something useful to say.
“Uh…well, I’ve been researching into mythology a lot lately. I haven’t found any absolute fact that any of it is true, but I can feel it in my heart that it is true. I just want to prove it to everyone else so I can know that I’m not crazy! I’m not crazy am I?” I said this out of desperation because, quite honestly, I wasn’t sure anymore. Maybe I was crazy.
Merlin scoffed. I didn’t know what to think.
“You’re not crazy, Garrett; just misunderstood.” The bartender tried to contain his laughter.
“Gee thanks! Wait, how did you know my name?” I yelled. I was thrown off by that.
“You told me when you came in. Remember?” Merlin said with a strange smile.
“Oh…you’re right. You must be right.” I have no idea why I said that, to this very day. I never told him my name. I knew I never did. How did he know? I tried to ask him, but all I could do was confirm what he said, as if I had no control over my mouth. At this point the bartender just about fell over from laughter. He stumbled out the back door. I could hear his laughter for about thirty seconds before he came back, holding his sides.
“I’m glad you see the humor in this, Darb.” Merlin said to the bartender.
“Oh these young ones.” The bartender laughed. I could only assume that he was the “Darb” that Merlin addressed. I wasn’t amused at all, and I tried my best to show that in my facial expression.
“Are you going to help me or not?!” I yelled. I was tired of this blabbering. I wish I could have told them I had something better to do, but I didn’t.
“Yes, yes Garrett. I’ll help you out. So, you want to hear the tale of Wyvern, the mighty Tinker of Amnesh? Well, you’ve come to the right man, my friend.” He said.
“Now there’s a start!” I said to him.
“Well…” he started “first you need backing for this story. I can’t just blurt out words that you don’t know. This story was a long time ago, you see. They didn’t have tanks or airplanes, or any of those things. Books that were written about magic were textbooks, not fantasy fiction. Back then they had bows and arrows, not guns and bullets. They had steel armor made by tinkers and steels swords made by smithies, not bulletproof jackets or rocket launchers.” He said, as he stared into my soul with those creepy eyes.
“Yes, yes. I get it. I’ve read about that kind of stuff already.” I said with skepticism. He wasn’t impressed by my attitude. He glared at me with those eyes. I could have sworn I felt a burning in my fingertips.
“It was a simpler time.” He continued. “A time of elves, and magical powers that could do anything from warm up your gruel with the touch of a finger, to sending a fiery bolt of death at an enemy. Now, you must understand, when I say elves, I don’t mean Santa’s helpers by any means either. Elves were taller, stronger, faster and smarter than most humans. I’m hoping, though, by now you’ve understood the point I’m trying to make; it wasn’t like it is now.”
“Yeah, I’ve played video games before, Merlin. I get the point.” I replied.
“OK then. Now I can tell you the story of The Tinker, Wyvern. Wyvern was born the twin son of a carpenter. His brother was named Farakon. Their father, Samuel, aided by their mother, Marissa, made a small amount of money as a carpenter, but it was enough to keep his family fed and mostly comfortable.”
“On Wyvern and Farakon’s third birthday, a war broke out in their mostly peaceful land of Amnesh. The Kingdom of Amnesh was a small place that was covered in green fields and good crops. They had very few troops for their cause, but Samuel refused to join the army, instead he decided to use his knowledge to help forge armor and blades for the army. It kept him from going to war, but it also kept him from being with his family for more than seven years. This is not surprising, but still, it wasn’t easy for him or his family.”
“As the war began to slowly die down, the armies of Amnesh pushed the opposing forces out of their land and began rooting up the remaining soldiers that had fled further into the country. This was fine until the remnants began attacking defenseless villages and small outposts.”
“In the meantime, Wyvern and Farakon were the only children in their small village. As they grew, Wyvern devoted himself to learning his fathers’ trade and also to tinkering and smithing. He was very smart, but not very strong. Wyvern’s brother, Farakon, dedicated himself to leaning to fight. Wyvern and Farakon were best friends and swore an oath that they would never let each other down and that they would protect each other with their lives. For the age of nine, Farakon was very good with a sword, and at the same age, Wyvern was very good at providing his brother with any blades he might need. They were a pair not to be trifled with and together they were so confident they could stand fearlessly in front of an army of Dragons, Giants or Ogres. Perhaps it was just their incorrigible spirit and good, old fashioned ignorance as to their own mortality.” Merlin let out a strange little laugh. It was at this point that I then pulled out a pen and notebook for my ideas. I scribbled down everything he said. This was good stuff. I didn’t know if it was true, but it was more in-depth than anything else I’d come across. Merlin looked at what I was writing. I pulled the notebook out of his sight. He raised an eyebrow at me and then continued.
“On their tenth birthday, a terrible event took place in their village. While Wyvern, Farakon and Marissa were sleeping, brigands from the opposing army of Cireth began burning their village down. They suddenly awoke to the smell of smoke, the glow of flames and the screams of old men and small children in the street. Marissa jumped off the bed and crawled underneath it.”
“’Boys come down here and hide! Now!’ Marissa whispered to them with authority in her tone.
“’No! Mother, we can’t stay here, they’ll burn the house down on top of us!’ Wyvern said as he jumped down from his bed along with Farakon. Farakon turned to his mother and said in a calm voice.”
“’We have to do something, Mother, we have to!’ A sudden look of shock came over Marissa’s face as her two young sons argued with her for the first time that she could remember. Farakon wasn’t going to wait for his mothers consent, though. He grabbed the armor Wyvern had made earlier and quickly put it on. It was made just for him and very well made, considering it came form the hands of a ten-year-old. Wyvern grabbed a short sword and handed it to Farakon.”
“’I just finished sharpening it, brother!’ Wyvern said, rushing his words and running to the wall to pick up a bow and a quiver full of arrows. He was good enough with a bow, and strong enough from smithing that he could use a bow to kill a person. As soon as he had the quiver he threw it over his shoulder and put on a thumb ring for some extra range.”
“’Mother, hide under the bed, I can hear them coming!’ Farakon whispered and stood next to the door, holding his sword in a ready stance and Wyvern behind him. Marissa couldn’t believe what was going on. Her two little boys had instantly become soldiers. She screamed, as a man threw a torch through their small window, landing on the floor of their thatched house. Marissa bolted for the torch and threw it back to the outside where it came from. It wasn’t the first time that a flaming object had been in their home. It had happened before when Wyvern brought something from his work. Marissa appreciated Wyverns talent, but she didn’t trust him with fire.” It was at this point that I remember laughing out loud. My mother never trusted me with fire either. I suppose it was a commonality I had with Wyvern, and every other little kid out there.
“Suddenly, one of the soldiers kicked at the wooden door to their home. The door was very sturdy, considering Wyvern made it to withstand anything he could think of. However, he hadn’t planned on this sort of thing, and after a second kick, the door came swinging open. Farakon ducked to one side of the door and readied his sword. Wyvern stood in the corner with his bow aimed at the door. The soldier then walked into the house and smiled at Wyvern. It was an interesting sight, really. A ten-year-old boy with a bow and arrow, pointed right at his chest. The smile on the soldiers face disappeared, though, as he saw a glint in Wyverns eye. Wyvern wasn’t afraid to use the bow. The soldier saw this and decided not to take the chance of being killed by a child. He reached for his sword but was stopped by an arrow. It careened through his arm, sending a blood spatter across the opposite end of the room. ‘I won’t miss the second time.’ Wyvern said as the soldier screamed and then grabbed at the arrow, trying to calm the pain.”
“Farakon could then hear the sound of footsteps running from outside. Someone was coming. Another soldier ran into the house, to find the man with the arrow in his arm. Wyvern pulled out another and pulled it back. The man who just walked in rushed at Wyvern with his sword already drawn from his plundering. Farakon wasn’t about to sit there though, he rolled on the floor toward the man and slashed out the soldiers Achilles Tendons. The man immediately fell to the ground in front of the bed. Farakon didn’t stop there, though. The soldier who had been standing there with an arrow in his arm was still in shock. Farakon show no mercy and sent his sword flying through his chest. The man sputtered up some blood and then fell to his knees. Farakon then dislodged the sword and turned to the man who was on the ground. The man had already grabbed Marissa by the neck and was holding her hostage. He pulled out a knife and held it to her neck.” Merlin look stressed at this point. Obviously this story had a lot of value for him.
“’I see I have your attention now! I can’t believe that I was so careless to almost have been beaten by two kids! How ridiculous!’ The soldier said to Wyvern and Farakon.
“’What’re you doing? Think about it. Let our mother go and you won’t die. But you if you hurt, her, I swear I will bathe in your blood.’ Farakon said. He then gripped his sword tighter in his hands. His eyes seemed to glow red. The room darkened and Farakon twitched. The soldier could see that Farakon wasn’t lying. His hands started to shake from fear. He left a little cut on Marissa’s neck.”
“’What are you going to do now?’ Farakon asked.”
“’I-I-I…” was all the man could say. His whole frame was shaking, now. He didn’t know what was going on. He had never seen anything like this. Farakon had no fear.
“’Please, just let my mother go.’ Wyvern said as he took a step closer.
“’Stay back! B-both of you! Just get the hell away from me! You little freaks!’ the man shouted out of fear. Wyvern grabbed an arrow from his quiver and loaded up another shot, pulling back his bow. The man couldn’t move his legs or stand because of the slash to the back of his heels earlier. Farakon knew this and took a step forward, but then the man panicked.” I could now almost see tears in Merlin’s eyes. I wasn’t sure though. I felt like asking him if he was alright, but I didn’t. Instead, he stopped talking for a moment.
“Sorry, this part isn’t easy for me to tell, even after all these years.” He said. “But I’ll keep going anyway.” He started the story back up again.
“The man panicked and pushed the knife through Marissas’ throat. Blood rushed out all over his hand. He looked down at her and screamed.
“’Oh god! What have I done?’ The man screamed as he scrambled away from Marissa. An arrow from Wyvern then fleeted through his chest. Wyverns fell to the ground and crawled to his mother and held her hand. Her face was white and blood covered her chest and neck. Farakon screamed with rage and jumped at the man, slashing at his chest and then lunging forward at him, impaling him in the side. The man screamed and crawled out of their home and into the street. Farakon then stabbed at the man several times, screaming in foreign tongues as his completely mutilated the body of the soldier who was still alive until the very end. It was disturbing for the few people still in the village watched as the puddle of blood grew larger and larger. Farakon broke down crying as he walked back into the house and rushed back to his mother, throwing his sword to the ground.”
Ah yes, nothing like a nice blood-filled end to chapter 1, eh?
And that's just the beginning! XD Other stuff happens too! People get married...and stuff...
Chapter One: A very reliable source.
“Useless tome!” I yelled as I tossed a book across my room. It wasn’t the first time. I had been reading a lot of useless books recently. This one was no different, historians claiming it was all legend and bullshit. I was tired of it. I knew in my heart that there were better times, when people did extraordinary feats. All I needed was some proof. I just wanted to know that I wasn’t crazy. I had been awake, reading countless books, for the past month. They were everywhere; jammed behind the refrigerator, all over the floor, in my bathroom, in my make shift bed, on my burner. Most of them deserved that or worse.
“’Scholars!’ Yeah, sure! More like idiots!” I said as I glanced around the room. My house hadn’t been cleaned since I started to go crazy with these books. I hadn’t checked my mail recently either. I figure the power would go out any minute in my tiny studio apartment. I had bee-Oh! I forgot. How rude of me. I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Garrett L. Bushnell. Currently, I’m a writer for a popular magazine called “D&D” which is all about mythology and the sort. I used to be a journalist for a has-been magazine called “True Facts”. I like to call it the National Exaggerator. It was one of those tabloids you see on the streets of New York. They came up with the “Dead alien found making love to Elvis” sort of thing. Let’s just say it wasn’t the best job I’d ever had. I had been looking for something really big that would perhaps get the attention of someone worthwhile-someone who could appreciate my work. I was tired of writing about dogs’ genitals and men giving birth.
When I was a kid I was always obsessed with stories like St. George and the Dragon, that sort of thing. I knew they weren’t true, but at least I could pretend they were. Now I was older. I was about-what-25 when I started this whole thing? Anyway, I decided to look around at books. I found every book I could on ancient mythology. They were all very intriguing, but none of them came close to proving that they were true. Most of them, in fact, were nothing more than textbooks made by professors of God-knows-what. I didn’t really care about their opinion unless they had some hard evidence pointing out that mythical creatures were real, or the stories of mythology were true. I spent a lot of time reading. As I was saying earlier, my house was covered in books. My job didn’t pay too well, even if I did live in Vegas, so I didn’t have much of a house really, more like a hole in the ground with the word “Studio Apartment” stamped on it.
I had just woken up from falling asleep in a pile of books. Normally I would be worried about getting to work, but I knew they didn’t even want me there. They would probably lay me off soon, anyway. I struggled to get off the ground. My back hurt from sleeping on some Aurthurian book I don’t even recall picking up. I lumbered into my kitchenette and grabbed a box of cereal and a cup of coffee I had the previous day. Actually, I never drank it. I poured the coffee into the cereal and then jammed the whole thing into the microwave. I don’t recall what setting it was on, or how long I put it in, because at that moment someone knocked on my door. It was a loud thundering knock. It had to be my acquaintance from work, Robert. Everyone called him “Bobbert”. He was a huge guy, about 6’8” and 300 pounds. I was only 5’8” and 130 pounds, so I found him rather intimidating, with that sadistic grin, innumerable piercings, bright yellow hair and a long goatee. I suspected that he was a drummer for a metal band, or something to that effect. When I opened the door he looked at me and smiled that disturbing smile he always has when he just did something devious.
“Have I got a deal for you, man!” He boomed. If I had any neighbors, they were awake now. Actually, it was about 12:30 so, if I had them, they would’ve all been gone by then anyway.
“What are you selling, Bobbert?” I asked him in the most drowsy tone I could, trying to indicate that I was sleeping.
“Were you sleeping?” he asked.
“Yes.” I replied. “I’d invite you into my home, but I don’t have any furniture.”
“You should get up, you lazy bastard. I’ve been up since six.” He said with an amount of pride. “Anyway, I don’t really care. All I know is that you’ve been snooping around at this mythology shit a lot. I thought I’d give you a helping hand.”
“Wow.” I replied. I really didn’t think he could help. The books I had been reading were written by smart people. How in the world could this guy help me?
“I’m serious here, man. There’s this guy that I know. He knows all about that kinda stuff. I hear you’ve come to a dead end anyway. It couldn’t hurt to talk to the guy.”
I sighed. This was a little unusual, but he was right. I didn’t have much of a choice. I just stood there with my mouth open. I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t surprised, I just really didn’t have anything to say to him.
“Your face is telling me everything. Anyway, here’s the address. Go talk to a guy who goes by the name of Merlin.” He then smashed a post-it note into my forehead and walked away. I pulled it off my head and took a glance. I recognized the address. It was a local bar-a real dump-close to the strip. I had nothing better to do, except clean my apartment.
I got dressed in some clothes that I suspected were clean and went to the address. There were only two people there; an old man sitting out the counter, and the bartender. I looked at them both. Neither seemed to notice I was even there. I walked up to them both and looked around the bar. It wasn’t such a bad place compared to my dank, dark apartment. At least there was a lot of light.
“Which one of you is Merlin?” I asked.
“He is.” The bartender said, as he pointed his thumb at the old man. The old man turned to me and looked me straight in the eye. It was disturbing. His eyes glowed a disturbing, faded blue color. The old man had a scar from his right ear, across his right cheek. I figured he was old because his hair was white, but on closer inspection, he looked like he was in his thirties. I didn’t bother to ask, he looked like he could tear me in half. His arms were huge, and he twitched every now and then as if he was expecting someone to mug him. I didn’t like the looks of it, but I decided that if I was going to die that day, I’d rather have him do it than I would some guy in a dark alley with a baseball bat and a yearning for nothing more than my shoes and wallet.
“Well? Are you just gonna stand there all day? I’m sure you have some reason to come here and talk to a sage like me.” He replied to my question. His voice was surprisingly calming. I half-expected it to send chills down my back.
“Hello, Merlin. I, uh, I’m here to ask you about mythology. I was told to come here by a guy named Bobbert.” I said, as I took a seat next to him.
“Ahhh…” he said with a smile. It was obvious that he was happy about having someone there to talk to. I figured he only saw the bartender most of the time. “Well, which story? I have plenty.”
I hadn’t even thought about that. I didn’t even know what kind of mythology he had in mind. I had no idea what I was looking for. I thought that maybe if I explained to him what it was I needed the information for, he might have something useful to say.
“Uh…well, I’ve been researching into mythology a lot lately. I haven’t found any absolute fact that any of it is true, but I can feel it in my heart that it is true. I just want to prove it to everyone else so I can know that I’m not crazy! I’m not crazy am I?” I said this out of desperation because, quite honestly, I wasn’t sure anymore. Maybe I was crazy.
Merlin scoffed. I didn’t know what to think.
“You’re not crazy, Garrett; just misunderstood.” The bartender tried to contain his laughter.
“Gee thanks! Wait, how did you know my name?” I yelled. I was thrown off by that.
“You told me when you came in. Remember?” Merlin said with a strange smile.
“Oh…you’re right. You must be right.” I have no idea why I said that, to this very day. I never told him my name. I knew I never did. How did he know? I tried to ask him, but all I could do was confirm what he said, as if I had no control over my mouth. At this point the bartender just about fell over from laughter. He stumbled out the back door. I could hear his laughter for about thirty seconds before he came back, holding his sides.
“I’m glad you see the humor in this, Darb.” Merlin said to the bartender.
“Oh these young ones.” The bartender laughed. I could only assume that he was the “Darb” that Merlin addressed. I wasn’t amused at all, and I tried my best to show that in my facial expression.
“Are you going to help me or not?!” I yelled. I was tired of this blabbering. I wish I could have told them I had something better to do, but I didn’t.
“Yes, yes Garrett. I’ll help you out. So, you want to hear the tale of Wyvern, the mighty Tinker of Amnesh? Well, you’ve come to the right man, my friend.” He said.
“Now there’s a start!” I said to him.
“Well…” he started “first you need backing for this story. I can’t just blurt out words that you don’t know. This story was a long time ago, you see. They didn’t have tanks or airplanes, or any of those things. Books that were written about magic were textbooks, not fantasy fiction. Back then they had bows and arrows, not guns and bullets. They had steel armor made by tinkers and steels swords made by smithies, not bulletproof jackets or rocket launchers.” He said, as he stared into my soul with those creepy eyes.
“Yes, yes. I get it. I’ve read about that kind of stuff already.” I said with skepticism. He wasn’t impressed by my attitude. He glared at me with those eyes. I could have sworn I felt a burning in my fingertips.
“It was a simpler time.” He continued. “A time of elves, and magical powers that could do anything from warm up your gruel with the touch of a finger, to sending a fiery bolt of death at an enemy. Now, you must understand, when I say elves, I don’t mean Santa’s helpers by any means either. Elves were taller, stronger, faster and smarter than most humans. I’m hoping, though, by now you’ve understood the point I’m trying to make; it wasn’t like it is now.”
“Yeah, I’ve played video games before, Merlin. I get the point.” I replied.
“OK then. Now I can tell you the story of The Tinker, Wyvern. Wyvern was born the twin son of a carpenter. His brother was named Farakon. Their father, Samuel, aided by their mother, Marissa, made a small amount of money as a carpenter, but it was enough to keep his family fed and mostly comfortable.”
“On Wyvern and Farakon’s third birthday, a war broke out in their mostly peaceful land of Amnesh. The Kingdom of Amnesh was a small place that was covered in green fields and good crops. They had very few troops for their cause, but Samuel refused to join the army, instead he decided to use his knowledge to help forge armor and blades for the army. It kept him from going to war, but it also kept him from being with his family for more than seven years. This is not surprising, but still, it wasn’t easy for him or his family.”
“As the war began to slowly die down, the armies of Amnesh pushed the opposing forces out of their land and began rooting up the remaining soldiers that had fled further into the country. This was fine until the remnants began attacking defenseless villages and small outposts.”
“In the meantime, Wyvern and Farakon were the only children in their small village. As they grew, Wyvern devoted himself to learning his fathers’ trade and also to tinkering and smithing. He was very smart, but not very strong. Wyvern’s brother, Farakon, dedicated himself to leaning to fight. Wyvern and Farakon were best friends and swore an oath that they would never let each other down and that they would protect each other with their lives. For the age of nine, Farakon was very good with a sword, and at the same age, Wyvern was very good at providing his brother with any blades he might need. They were a pair not to be trifled with and together they were so confident they could stand fearlessly in front of an army of Dragons, Giants or Ogres. Perhaps it was just their incorrigible spirit and good, old fashioned ignorance as to their own mortality.” Merlin let out a strange little laugh. It was at this point that I then pulled out a pen and notebook for my ideas. I scribbled down everything he said. This was good stuff. I didn’t know if it was true, but it was more in-depth than anything else I’d come across. Merlin looked at what I was writing. I pulled the notebook out of his sight. He raised an eyebrow at me and then continued.
“On their tenth birthday, a terrible event took place in their village. While Wyvern, Farakon and Marissa were sleeping, brigands from the opposing army of Cireth began burning their village down. They suddenly awoke to the smell of smoke, the glow of flames and the screams of old men and small children in the street. Marissa jumped off the bed and crawled underneath it.”
“’Boys come down here and hide! Now!’ Marissa whispered to them with authority in her tone.
“’No! Mother, we can’t stay here, they’ll burn the house down on top of us!’ Wyvern said as he jumped down from his bed along with Farakon. Farakon turned to his mother and said in a calm voice.”
“’We have to do something, Mother, we have to!’ A sudden look of shock came over Marissa’s face as her two young sons argued with her for the first time that she could remember. Farakon wasn’t going to wait for his mothers consent, though. He grabbed the armor Wyvern had made earlier and quickly put it on. It was made just for him and very well made, considering it came form the hands of a ten-year-old. Wyvern grabbed a short sword and handed it to Farakon.”
“’I just finished sharpening it, brother!’ Wyvern said, rushing his words and running to the wall to pick up a bow and a quiver full of arrows. He was good enough with a bow, and strong enough from smithing that he could use a bow to kill a person. As soon as he had the quiver he threw it over his shoulder and put on a thumb ring for some extra range.”
“’Mother, hide under the bed, I can hear them coming!’ Farakon whispered and stood next to the door, holding his sword in a ready stance and Wyvern behind him. Marissa couldn’t believe what was going on. Her two little boys had instantly become soldiers. She screamed, as a man threw a torch through their small window, landing on the floor of their thatched house. Marissa bolted for the torch and threw it back to the outside where it came from. It wasn’t the first time that a flaming object had been in their home. It had happened before when Wyvern brought something from his work. Marissa appreciated Wyverns talent, but she didn’t trust him with fire.” It was at this point that I remember laughing out loud. My mother never trusted me with fire either. I suppose it was a commonality I had with Wyvern, and every other little kid out there.
“Suddenly, one of the soldiers kicked at the wooden door to their home. The door was very sturdy, considering Wyvern made it to withstand anything he could think of. However, he hadn’t planned on this sort of thing, and after a second kick, the door came swinging open. Farakon ducked to one side of the door and readied his sword. Wyvern stood in the corner with his bow aimed at the door. The soldier then walked into the house and smiled at Wyvern. It was an interesting sight, really. A ten-year-old boy with a bow and arrow, pointed right at his chest. The smile on the soldiers face disappeared, though, as he saw a glint in Wyverns eye. Wyvern wasn’t afraid to use the bow. The soldier saw this and decided not to take the chance of being killed by a child. He reached for his sword but was stopped by an arrow. It careened through his arm, sending a blood spatter across the opposite end of the room. ‘I won’t miss the second time.’ Wyvern said as the soldier screamed and then grabbed at the arrow, trying to calm the pain.”
“Farakon could then hear the sound of footsteps running from outside. Someone was coming. Another soldier ran into the house, to find the man with the arrow in his arm. Wyvern pulled out another and pulled it back. The man who just walked in rushed at Wyvern with his sword already drawn from his plundering. Farakon wasn’t about to sit there though, he rolled on the floor toward the man and slashed out the soldiers Achilles Tendons. The man immediately fell to the ground in front of the bed. Farakon didn’t stop there, though. The soldier who had been standing there with an arrow in his arm was still in shock. Farakon show no mercy and sent his sword flying through his chest. The man sputtered up some blood and then fell to his knees. Farakon then dislodged the sword and turned to the man who was on the ground. The man had already grabbed Marissa by the neck and was holding her hostage. He pulled out a knife and held it to her neck.” Merlin look stressed at this point. Obviously this story had a lot of value for him.
“’I see I have your attention now! I can’t believe that I was so careless to almost have been beaten by two kids! How ridiculous!’ The soldier said to Wyvern and Farakon.
“’What’re you doing? Think about it. Let our mother go and you won’t die. But you if you hurt, her, I swear I will bathe in your blood.’ Farakon said. He then gripped his sword tighter in his hands. His eyes seemed to glow red. The room darkened and Farakon twitched. The soldier could see that Farakon wasn’t lying. His hands started to shake from fear. He left a little cut on Marissa’s neck.”
“’What are you going to do now?’ Farakon asked.”
“’I-I-I…” was all the man could say. His whole frame was shaking, now. He didn’t know what was going on. He had never seen anything like this. Farakon had no fear.
“’Please, just let my mother go.’ Wyvern said as he took a step closer.
“’Stay back! B-both of you! Just get the hell away from me! You little freaks!’ the man shouted out of fear. Wyvern grabbed an arrow from his quiver and loaded up another shot, pulling back his bow. The man couldn’t move his legs or stand because of the slash to the back of his heels earlier. Farakon knew this and took a step forward, but then the man panicked.” I could now almost see tears in Merlin’s eyes. I wasn’t sure though. I felt like asking him if he was alright, but I didn’t. Instead, he stopped talking for a moment.
“Sorry, this part isn’t easy for me to tell, even after all these years.” He said. “But I’ll keep going anyway.” He started the story back up again.
“The man panicked and pushed the knife through Marissas’ throat. Blood rushed out all over his hand. He looked down at her and screamed.
“’Oh god! What have I done?’ The man screamed as he scrambled away from Marissa. An arrow from Wyvern then fleeted through his chest. Wyverns fell to the ground and crawled to his mother and held her hand. Her face was white and blood covered her chest and neck. Farakon screamed with rage and jumped at the man, slashing at his chest and then lunging forward at him, impaling him in the side. The man screamed and crawled out of their home and into the street. Farakon then stabbed at the man several times, screaming in foreign tongues as his completely mutilated the body of the soldier who was still alive until the very end. It was disturbing for the few people still in the village watched as the puddle of blood grew larger and larger. Farakon broke down crying as he walked back into the house and rushed back to his mother, throwing his sword to the ground.”
Ah yes, nothing like a nice blood-filled end to chapter 1, eh?
And that's just the beginning! XD Other stuff happens too! People get married...and stuff...