Fanfic: In the Name of - Part 1 (Alessa Talance)
Ragnarok fanfic again, but first I brood about Alessa Talance, another of my characters. I used to play her in game, but my love and attention has passed onto my fighter, Alena Sunlace. Anyway.
Alessa Talance, who are you? I don’t know you anymore. In fact, sometimes I abhor you, you bland little goody-goody! Sometimes I’m tempted to give your character up and have nothing more to do with you. I’d like nothing better than to leave your background as it is and ROT for all I care. Believe me, I was going to.
But no, I can’t abandon you as my fictional character. I cannot accept that defeat, of you no longer being mine. I shouldn’t give you up. I can’t give you up. I won’t give you up. Even if I hate you, I still care about you and I can’t help it. So, like a mother taking back a failure of a child, I’ll take you back and I’ll see what I can do to fix you, given certain limitations. They say that the opposite of love is, in fact, indifference. So in order for me to love you again, my child, I have to pay attention to you.
And now that I think about it, I know you, Alessa Talance. I know you better now than I’ve ever known you before. I know how immensely different you and I are, just as I know how Alena Sunlace and I differ. Of course, as with all my characters - from Alynne to Brok, from Tyrone to Wallace - there will be places we overlap, but make no mistake that you are yourself and no one else.
I’ve known about your background since last year, planned it, changed it, but I haven’t taken the time to write it out in detail. It’s been sitting in the back of my mind, churning and settling, until finally it has solidified into something somewhat stable, like liquid jello left to set and jigglify.
Now that I remember your story, we can commence-
-------------
In the Name of: Part 1
Begun February 09, 2005, 231am
Finished February 10, 2005, 12am
As with all thieves, they came cloaked in the night, when the moon was a sliver in the sky and the gray, flowing clouds hung low. No one in the Talance caravan had an inkling of the danger, except maybe the young acolyte peeping through the back door. She’d been having that feeling again, a feeling of a change in the sand, much like one would feel a change in the wind. If the Talances could afford a bodyguard, he would have already told her to shut the door so they could defend their caravan; the less possibilities for entrance into their store of goods, the better.
But the Talances were poor, barely surviving on a slim profit margin that allowed them to travel from city to city to peddle their cheap items. Being good and decent God-fearing people, they did not believe in making ungodly profits. So they lived a simple life, having only the necessities of food, shelter and water. They did not believe they were significant enough to be a target of robbers, and if they were, then their God would watch over them and protect them. Their faith held fast for so many years, and in that many years, they never came to any harm.
Well, not until that night, that is.
Bad things happen to good people, and that is exactly what happened to the Talances, a family consisting of a brother and his family, and sister and her child. The brother, Ethan, was the first to fall victim, he being vulnerable in the front as he steered the pecopecos. The attackers knocked Ethan from his seat, and he nearly fell into the still-turning wheels of the caravan. The animals were pulled to a halt unharmed; they would be taken as additional transport for an ever-growing fleet.
Ethan’s wife, Malka was next when she came screaming from the depths of the caravan, her cross-shaped earrings glittering a red-silver in the firelight before she too was struck down.
“Please,” Malka cried, weakened and crawling towards her husband. He was lying very still, his face covered by his ebony hair as nearly half his upper torso hung precariously on the edge of the platform. “You’ve hurt my husband when you didn’t have to. Please, in the name of my Lord, we won’t fight. Take anything, but don’t harm us.”
The closest of the shadows laughed, but let her be. Suddenly, there was firelight everywhere from the torches that the thieves carried. There were many of them, swarming in silent as black ants, and taking from the caravan the things they needed, the things they wanted. The pecopecos were led away and the goods spilled out on the cool sand, then packed.
Meanwhile, inside, the two children were huddling with the last adult, Erin. She enveloped them in her robes, Ethan’s child Daniel, and her own child, Alessa. The thieves had largely ignored them as they carried off most of the goods, but as the last of them left, a female thief wearing a striped bandana around her head came closer and roughly pulled Erin away. That was all right with Erin, as long as the children stayed back and weren’t hurt-
But no, hands were swiftly taking up Daniel and Alessa and they were being carried away over shoulders, just like the rest of the stolen goods. Daniel was eleven years old and young, so he cried and screamed and was helpless. Alessa was newly fourteen, so she bit and kicked and was savage.
“Quiet, grass-haired one.” A commanding voice said to her. “You must come quietly for no harm to be dealt.”
“No, give us our children back!” Erin shouted instead, dodging the thief and lunging out of the back of the caravan, whose heavyset doors had been wrenched off at broken angles. The muffler around her head lent her speed, but what was such agility to those born with swiftness?
Invisible forces hit her, first on one shoulder, then on a leg, more missing and ripping through the billowing cloth. She was virtually stopped in mid-flight, as if she had hit a net of air and that net was spiked with shards of transparent glass. Her legs bowed and she toppled to the sand, her short ebony hair sticking out from under her falling muffler. She pulled off the garment, and stood again.
“Peace.” Said the voice again, this time from another direction. He moved as fast as the rest of his band, possibly even faster. Possibly an assassin. “Peace or we will harm you. Such a gentle soul as yours - do you want to die in futility?”
Erin’s voice was indeed marked by gentleness, but that did not mean she would simply give up. Her words cut through the air as sharply as her straight hair cut against her jaw. “It is not futility when it is for our loved ones. Please, I beg of you in the name of my Lord, please free our children.”
“Your Lord reigns not over our people. Nay, he may not even reign over you. Look how he has left you to us and our Master.” There was no malicious laughter, only silence and watchful eyes, all looking towards this woman who stooped now a little, affected by wounds that must be bleeding, wounds that soaked her robes all the more in red.
“Sir, I most humbly disagree, for my Lord never leaves me.” Erin said steadily, her fingers clutching at the rosary wound around her wrist. “But for the sake of our children, I will plead with you in your god’s name, to spare them.”
“Ah, such a thing to do, to reach out to your enemy through their god. But our god is vengeful and he seeks retribution. He takes what he needs, and he needs these children more than your Lord ever will. In the name of him, we take them.”
Erin shook her head, outraged but weak. “Who is this god who would so recklessly take lives that are not his?”
A reverent chant rose up in answer. “He who seeks life, whose life we shall restore. Our mighty avenger, the God Osiris!”
Her dark eyes grew round and frightened in understanding. “No.” She said, trembling. “No. Our children will never serve him.” And now directly to Alessa and Daniel, who were likewise watching her, frozen like terrified mice. “You must NEVER serve-“ Before she was finished, a dagger flew. Erin raised her hand to block it, and the blade glanced hard off her rosary, breaking it, cutting her. The wooden beads flew and rolled. The children cried out and were promptly smothered.
“Peace.” Said the assassin again, visible now, perched on top of the ruined Talance caravan. “We leave now in silence and we leave you alive.” There was movement in the darkness as his command was obeyed. At least two dozen thieves mounted or began to walk without looking back, even when Erin rose again, blood openly dripping down her hand and onto the dagger she was gripping. She turned and looked up at the form of the assassin, who faded out of sight as the clouds rolled over the sky.
“Fight no more, or you will die for nothing but foolishness.” His voice still came from the same spot.
Erin’s eyes never strayed from the caravan. “I know your cult’s vile rules. If I kill you, my children may return to me.” Then she, Erin of the kindest heart and gentlest spirit, raised the dripping dagger and aimed. She whispered prayers as she threw, blessing it with her blood, imbuing it with powerful truth, and she knew her aim was true by the way it hummed. It spiraled not towards the caravan where the assassin had last spoken, but to the right, and a little backwards. There was an audible gasp, a guttural cough, and Erin thought she had done it.
Then Alessa screamed a high-pitched scream of pure terror. Erin felt his presence a half-second later, bearing down on her. She saw his merciless eyes through his phantom mask. The mask’s whiteness itself was dotted with red specks, and she was sure she saw him pulling the dagger out from the right side of his chest before he swung it down towards her in countless arcs, piercing her like pins. It was quick, so quick that she didn’t feel the pain until it was over and the blood was ebbing out of her, staining the sand under her a dark black in the clouded night.
“Foolish.” The assassin said. Erin cried, and he brushed his bloody fingers against her cheeks to collect her tears, then against her wrist for her blood, and his chest for his own, draining it all into an iron vial which he covered with a finger and shook. Some sick cult peculiarity, she thought, turning away at the perverseness. The assassin turned her face back with irresistible precision and dribbled the concoction onto her lips, into her mouth, down her throat. She gagged, tried to cough it out, but it was no good, she had swallowed some and now she was fading…
More blood was dripping on her face, Erin felt dimly, until she became aware of another form bending over her and crying - it was tears, not blood - a young girl with hair the color of fresh meadows. It was Alessa, who never cried just as Erin never killed. By some miracle of God, the acolyte had broken free and was trying to use her ever so feeble abilities to heal Erin. But she was so young, and so inexperienced, and the anger shone in her eyes when Alessa herself realized it.
Erin said to her in a faltering breath, “Patience…”
And then all Erin’s eyes could see was night, and all she could breathe was night, and she became like the night, subtle and dark.
-------------
Notes:
A muffler is actually scarf you wear around your neck. In the RO world, it is classified as a “robe”.
Other things in this fic may deviate from game elements as well, so if you Ragnarok players see deviations do point it out so I can make a note about it here. I’ll be writing more Alessa’s series soon, although after the next part, the style may become pure narrative again just so I can go through the important events quickly. Until then~
Alessa Talance, who are you? I don’t know you anymore. In fact, sometimes I abhor you, you bland little goody-goody! Sometimes I’m tempted to give your character up and have nothing more to do with you. I’d like nothing better than to leave your background as it is and ROT for all I care. Believe me, I was going to.
But no, I can’t abandon you as my fictional character. I cannot accept that defeat, of you no longer being mine. I shouldn’t give you up. I can’t give you up. I won’t give you up. Even if I hate you, I still care about you and I can’t help it. So, like a mother taking back a failure of a child, I’ll take you back and I’ll see what I can do to fix you, given certain limitations. They say that the opposite of love is, in fact, indifference. So in order for me to love you again, my child, I have to pay attention to you.
And now that I think about it, I know you, Alessa Talance. I know you better now than I’ve ever known you before. I know how immensely different you and I are, just as I know how Alena Sunlace and I differ. Of course, as with all my characters - from Alynne to Brok, from Tyrone to Wallace - there will be places we overlap, but make no mistake that you are yourself and no one else.
I’ve known about your background since last year, planned it, changed it, but I haven’t taken the time to write it out in detail. It’s been sitting in the back of my mind, churning and settling, until finally it has solidified into something somewhat stable, like liquid jello left to set and jigglify.
Now that I remember your story, we can commence-
-------------
In the Name of: Part 1
Begun February 09, 2005, 231am
Finished February 10, 2005, 12am
As with all thieves, they came cloaked in the night, when the moon was a sliver in the sky and the gray, flowing clouds hung low. No one in the Talance caravan had an inkling of the danger, except maybe the young acolyte peeping through the back door. She’d been having that feeling again, a feeling of a change in the sand, much like one would feel a change in the wind. If the Talances could afford a bodyguard, he would have already told her to shut the door so they could defend their caravan; the less possibilities for entrance into their store of goods, the better.
But the Talances were poor, barely surviving on a slim profit margin that allowed them to travel from city to city to peddle their cheap items. Being good and decent God-fearing people, they did not believe in making ungodly profits. So they lived a simple life, having only the necessities of food, shelter and water. They did not believe they were significant enough to be a target of robbers, and if they were, then their God would watch over them and protect them. Their faith held fast for so many years, and in that many years, they never came to any harm.
Well, not until that night, that is.
Bad things happen to good people, and that is exactly what happened to the Talances, a family consisting of a brother and his family, and sister and her child. The brother, Ethan, was the first to fall victim, he being vulnerable in the front as he steered the pecopecos. The attackers knocked Ethan from his seat, and he nearly fell into the still-turning wheels of the caravan. The animals were pulled to a halt unharmed; they would be taken as additional transport for an ever-growing fleet.
Ethan’s wife, Malka was next when she came screaming from the depths of the caravan, her cross-shaped earrings glittering a red-silver in the firelight before she too was struck down.
“Please,” Malka cried, weakened and crawling towards her husband. He was lying very still, his face covered by his ebony hair as nearly half his upper torso hung precariously on the edge of the platform. “You’ve hurt my husband when you didn’t have to. Please, in the name of my Lord, we won’t fight. Take anything, but don’t harm us.”
The closest of the shadows laughed, but let her be. Suddenly, there was firelight everywhere from the torches that the thieves carried. There were many of them, swarming in silent as black ants, and taking from the caravan the things they needed, the things they wanted. The pecopecos were led away and the goods spilled out on the cool sand, then packed.
Meanwhile, inside, the two children were huddling with the last adult, Erin. She enveloped them in her robes, Ethan’s child Daniel, and her own child, Alessa. The thieves had largely ignored them as they carried off most of the goods, but as the last of them left, a female thief wearing a striped bandana around her head came closer and roughly pulled Erin away. That was all right with Erin, as long as the children stayed back and weren’t hurt-
But no, hands were swiftly taking up Daniel and Alessa and they were being carried away over shoulders, just like the rest of the stolen goods. Daniel was eleven years old and young, so he cried and screamed and was helpless. Alessa was newly fourteen, so she bit and kicked and was savage.
“Quiet, grass-haired one.” A commanding voice said to her. “You must come quietly for no harm to be dealt.”
“No, give us our children back!” Erin shouted instead, dodging the thief and lunging out of the back of the caravan, whose heavyset doors had been wrenched off at broken angles. The muffler around her head lent her speed, but what was such agility to those born with swiftness?
Invisible forces hit her, first on one shoulder, then on a leg, more missing and ripping through the billowing cloth. She was virtually stopped in mid-flight, as if she had hit a net of air and that net was spiked with shards of transparent glass. Her legs bowed and she toppled to the sand, her short ebony hair sticking out from under her falling muffler. She pulled off the garment, and stood again.
“Peace.” Said the voice again, this time from another direction. He moved as fast as the rest of his band, possibly even faster. Possibly an assassin. “Peace or we will harm you. Such a gentle soul as yours - do you want to die in futility?”
Erin’s voice was indeed marked by gentleness, but that did not mean she would simply give up. Her words cut through the air as sharply as her straight hair cut against her jaw. “It is not futility when it is for our loved ones. Please, I beg of you in the name of my Lord, please free our children.”
“Your Lord reigns not over our people. Nay, he may not even reign over you. Look how he has left you to us and our Master.” There was no malicious laughter, only silence and watchful eyes, all looking towards this woman who stooped now a little, affected by wounds that must be bleeding, wounds that soaked her robes all the more in red.
“Sir, I most humbly disagree, for my Lord never leaves me.” Erin said steadily, her fingers clutching at the rosary wound around her wrist. “But for the sake of our children, I will plead with you in your god’s name, to spare them.”
“Ah, such a thing to do, to reach out to your enemy through their god. But our god is vengeful and he seeks retribution. He takes what he needs, and he needs these children more than your Lord ever will. In the name of him, we take them.”
Erin shook her head, outraged but weak. “Who is this god who would so recklessly take lives that are not his?”
A reverent chant rose up in answer. “He who seeks life, whose life we shall restore. Our mighty avenger, the God Osiris!”
Her dark eyes grew round and frightened in understanding. “No.” She said, trembling. “No. Our children will never serve him.” And now directly to Alessa and Daniel, who were likewise watching her, frozen like terrified mice. “You must NEVER serve-“ Before she was finished, a dagger flew. Erin raised her hand to block it, and the blade glanced hard off her rosary, breaking it, cutting her. The wooden beads flew and rolled. The children cried out and were promptly smothered.
“Peace.” Said the assassin again, visible now, perched on top of the ruined Talance caravan. “We leave now in silence and we leave you alive.” There was movement in the darkness as his command was obeyed. At least two dozen thieves mounted or began to walk without looking back, even when Erin rose again, blood openly dripping down her hand and onto the dagger she was gripping. She turned and looked up at the form of the assassin, who faded out of sight as the clouds rolled over the sky.
“Fight no more, or you will die for nothing but foolishness.” His voice still came from the same spot.
Erin’s eyes never strayed from the caravan. “I know your cult’s vile rules. If I kill you, my children may return to me.” Then she, Erin of the kindest heart and gentlest spirit, raised the dripping dagger and aimed. She whispered prayers as she threw, blessing it with her blood, imbuing it with powerful truth, and she knew her aim was true by the way it hummed. It spiraled not towards the caravan where the assassin had last spoken, but to the right, and a little backwards. There was an audible gasp, a guttural cough, and Erin thought she had done it.
Then Alessa screamed a high-pitched scream of pure terror. Erin felt his presence a half-second later, bearing down on her. She saw his merciless eyes through his phantom mask. The mask’s whiteness itself was dotted with red specks, and she was sure she saw him pulling the dagger out from the right side of his chest before he swung it down towards her in countless arcs, piercing her like pins. It was quick, so quick that she didn’t feel the pain until it was over and the blood was ebbing out of her, staining the sand under her a dark black in the clouded night.
“Foolish.” The assassin said. Erin cried, and he brushed his bloody fingers against her cheeks to collect her tears, then against her wrist for her blood, and his chest for his own, draining it all into an iron vial which he covered with a finger and shook. Some sick cult peculiarity, she thought, turning away at the perverseness. The assassin turned her face back with irresistible precision and dribbled the concoction onto her lips, into her mouth, down her throat. She gagged, tried to cough it out, but it was no good, she had swallowed some and now she was fading…
More blood was dripping on her face, Erin felt dimly, until she became aware of another form bending over her and crying - it was tears, not blood - a young girl with hair the color of fresh meadows. It was Alessa, who never cried just as Erin never killed. By some miracle of God, the acolyte had broken free and was trying to use her ever so feeble abilities to heal Erin. But she was so young, and so inexperienced, and the anger shone in her eyes when Alessa herself realized it.
Erin said to her in a faltering breath, “Patience…”
And then all Erin’s eyes could see was night, and all she could breathe was night, and she became like the night, subtle and dark.
-------------
Notes:
A muffler is actually scarf you wear around your neck. In the RO world, it is classified as a “robe”.
Other things in this fic may deviate from game elements as well, so if you Ragnarok players see deviations do point it out so I can make a note about it here. I’ll be writing more Alessa’s series soon, although after the next part, the style may become pure narrative again just so I can go through the important events quickly. Until then~