Chapter II:
The Isle Of Vale.
We travel not to the west, nor the south and definitely not the east! Dreadfully vile that east is! Not far from Dome-Wyrd's shores rests a series of islands, fisherman settlements and towns that sat upon docks, over murky waters that they dreadfully referred to as the sea. The west islands were dangerous, riddled with pirates and thieves.
The east islands were of high renown, they had their own border and refused to let anyone pass through its gates if they didn't by chance, have an "Eastern Border Pass" They were white pieces of parchment with text that read: "By the royalty invested in me by the First Ones themselves, and hereby grant the holder of this pass admission to the Eastern Islands of Mahree."
The only problem was that to get one of these passes, you were required to have an audience with the King of Mahree, but to even get into the kingdom, to get and audience, you needed a pass. Hard times these were, dark times indeed, and the mortals themselves stricken by grief, poverty, or even stressed by their own health. Morale was at an all-time low in the isles, which was better than Domewyrd could say. We travel to the center of all of these isles, on a small island which stood on the very tip of the southern coast, To the Isle of : Vale.
The Isle Of Vale; It was a poor island, Several villages spread throughout these vast southern isles, riddled with run-down shacks the charring spread about the village like a stain, a stain of history. They were common folk, more times than not the poor usually were. They weren’t warriors, or pirates, or even scholars, they were honest men living in an abysmal time, merely trying to survive so that their children had a parent to wish them good morning.
These were the dark times after all, and with the grim isles touching the surrounding sea, well it's not surprising to know that pirates and thieves circled these seas, as well as raiding these villages. There was a reason for the eastern isles border gate after all, as ridiculous as the mortals were, they weren't mad. Pirates usually plundered the villages, causing chaos, commandeering the taverns, wrecking homes and lives, but it all mattered naught to them.
These were dark times after all, and everyone, even the wicked needed to eat and provide. No matter how twisted the man, at the end of every grueling day, every man, every dwarf, and every elf knew that. It’s just the route you travel upon that defines you, not your actions.
On the cusp of the raging sea stood a shore on the southern isle. Upon its dirty shores riddled with debris and ship-wreckage, just above the incline, past the trail that lead to a quiet village. A quiet, small village, whose homes all faced one another, hardly put together.
Although not impressive, it was honorable to see homes built by bare hands and not slaves. The time was not yet for slaves, that came dreadfully later. The time was still dark, as this silent village would soon know. In the center of the town stood a dingy stage, and above it was a wooden plaque, poorly made, that read; " Talented Tykes."
Behind the dingy stage stood a dirt path that winded to the north east for about half a mile, at its end you could clearly see a two-story home, one would wonder why the homes in town weren't even half as good as that home.
Then one would realize, that in these poorly made homes lied husbands and wives, in the well-constructed home, billowing smoke from a stone chimney, one would realize that there slumbered all of the children whom were in fact, without parents.
In these dark times, war and poverty caused the constant raiding of villages, where no mortal was safe to live with their family. Often more times than not, they burned entire villages as they siphoned their booze, guzzling it like heckling fiends. There was a reason to why there were so many orphans in this dark time, the age of darkness, the first age of Domewyrd.
There was no civil way to live, it was maim, or be maimed. Kill or be killed, although these were everyday things for mortals. This day was not an everyday occurrence, and a certain orphan that was no mere orphan, resting in that cozy home just behind the dingy stage, which would soon be his podium.
This orphan, he was no ordinary orphan, as he would soon know.
He slept soundly, snoring louder than all the other frail and sickly children. He was pawing in his sleep, drooling on his wool pillow, kicking his sheets and twitching like a frog.
Looking on, this was probably an adorable thing, but deep within this special boy's mind. In the realm of dreams and nightmares, something horrific began. Before the young, although clever and docile Manis could even fathom it, it was already too late.
Manis yawned as his voice squeaked, tussling his bright-orange hair, rubbing his eyes which had full circles surrounding them. All the other boy seemed to have left their small room, it housed ten beds, five on each side. The wooden walls creaked and were starting to become weathered, although you could never tell from the outside.
All the beds were laid facing each other, touching the wall. Manis stayed in the last bed on the right wall, closest to the cracked and dirty window. At the east-end of the room there was a bathroom, and to the left of that door lead to the hallway, Along with every other bed sat a trunk for each child, it held their clothes.
Manis reached in his trunk and slipped his white tunic over his head, it didn't have sleeves (they were ripped off), and revealed his scrawny arms. He jumped into his white linen pants, they were always dirty.
Manis wasn't the cleanest, or well, normal for that matter. He was animated, erratic, charismatic(for his age), and extremely emotional. Often he ended up brawling with the other boys, more times than not Manis couldn't contain his emotions, or control his rage. Although, there was one boy he considered his friend, Manis was a solitary child but for some reason when Jaykob was around, he talked up a storm.
He was the best friend a boy like Manis could've hoped for in dark times like these. Jaykob was an orphan just like Manis, he slept across from him, they were practically inseparable. After Manis was dressed, he jolted across the room, slinging as he turns and magnetizing his hand straight to the door-handle with a zip.
He flings open the door peeking around the corner, it's absolutely silent, no one's around. He was confused as he strolled whistling down the hallway, the wood creaked as he stepped, he headed toward the stairs to the left. Every other step had a hole in it, so you had to hop down each step in odds.
As Manis platformed and zig-zagged, he hit the bottom floor with a thud just as dust shoots from under his slamming feet. he looked to the right in the kitchen, cocking his eyebrows he realized it was too, empty.
Manis shrugged his shoulders and stepped outside, in the distance, in the town's center, just upon the dingy stage everyone in town was standing. He jogged toward the stage and as he approached skidded in the dirt, and announcing in a shaky voice.
"H-h-heeey guys! d-d-d-id, I miss something?"
Everyone was standing above him on the stage, everyone he knew from the orphanage, their care-taker "Madam Moiselle" and old crow-like woman, she was as sweet as a peach.
The kids all called her that because her husband did, and he was regrettably lost at sea. They were all chatting so fast, Manis had no hope of being able to hear what they were talking about, almost ignoring him.
He heard a terrible wind that passed just behind his ear. Not ten-feet behind him, or in front of him, or even to the side, right behind him.
As the win passed he could've swore it spoke and said: "Trust no one, my young delusional Manis!"
He was startled, shaking, and frightened. Manis began sweating and a shriek flew from his mouth,
"ARE YOU DOLTS IGNORING ME!?!?!"
"I'M SICK OF YOUR DASTARDLY RUSES!"
"IF YOU BURKES HAVE GOT A QUALM, THEN ANNOUNCE IT!"
"BAH PLAGUE ON IT! YOU AND THE WHOLE LOT OF THE WRETCHED TOWN!"
Instantly they all turned, gazing down at him, all of them dawned a look of menacing hatred, their facial expressions warped like flowing water. Manis reeled back and screamed, kicking up dirt behind him.
They all leaned forward pressing their faces together, harder and harder they shouted, with so many voices that it became unintelligible. Their voices were screaming, shrieking, reverberating, and pulsating all around Manis.
The villagers were now practically falling off the stage their faces all pressed together tight and sporadically shouting. Just as they all began tumbling forward on top of Manis, all of their faces mutated together, their eyes, noses, and mouths were all oscillating on this now disfigured face.
Manis jumped backwards, falling on his rear with a thud. His eyes were wide, and as this abomination fell onto the dirt, everything below its face moved like water and began oozing as its skin became a neutral grey. It moaned in the voice of many as all the voices and faces swirled before him. The moaning grew louder, it was unbearable as Manis screamed with a face full of tears, covering his ears, and staring into this monstrosity.
It inched closer, and closer, oozing and flopping it's liquid skin. It's oversized and grotesque face flowing like water, moaning, groaning and screaming. Just as Manis was petrified from fear, the being dripping it's gray skin the reeked of rotting flesh, as Manis now had to cover his nose from the smell and propelling himself backwards with his feet and hands.
In the middle of its overgrown face opened a cut, as if someone he didn't see vertically slashed the beast.
He mouthed with his bright lips "what?" As giant insect legs creeped out, it was stretched passed the town and over the sea, it was riddled with dark hairs.
Then a second leg flew out stretching over and above Manis. A third leg inched out to his right, and then a fourth leg to his left, a fifth spanned to his left, a sixth to the right, Manis couldn't believe what he was seeing. Just as he was trying to fathom what in the seven hells was transpiring, a seventh, and an eighth leg shot out behind him.
He stood up and gazed around and quickly realized that these legs stretched from this overgrown face all the way to the deep, raging sea. Before Manis could think a moment more, Something rose out of the abomination.
It was a colossal spider, it ripped abomination's skin as blood poured underneath it, it stood just above the clouds. Then it began moving not forward mind you, it descended it's body staring straight at Manis.
It had eight ruby eyes on its skull, it's skin a dark black, and a dormant sleeping eyes sat above its skull resting on its body, it's towering body, although black, it was not that of a spider's structure but a brain's. It's pincers were covered in hair and just beneath it, were dark green tendrils, that hung hundreds of feet below as they dangled and swayed. It descended faster and faster towards Manis, his eyes grew wider and his sweat dropped faster.
As he screamed thinking it was far too late for him, it stops, pivoting it's head pointed directly at Manis, it stares for what seemed like five minutes straight.
It's pincers chatter whilst the dormant sleeping eye opens, the entirety of its eyes is a bloody red, in its iris stood a mesmerizing swirl. The eye began twitching, the swirl inside the dominating iris twirled chaotically fast as the spider crashes it's pincers together and shivers. Manis is hypnotized, lost to the eye, just as one of its monumental legs stretches from far in the distance. Hovering above Manis, it slowly descended down and Just as the spider is about to snatch Manis, time halted, and the world erratically melted, like throwing water on a freshly inked painting.
Manis shrieks a bellowing scream, rising like a vampire in a deep sweat, his sheets completely drenched. He gazes around in a fret, breathing heavily, uncontrollably, he notices everyone was still asleep. Manis mutters to himself,
"It was just a dream, just a dream, don't be a fool! don't be stupid! stupid!"
He threw his blanket off of him and still drenched in sweat he runs his fingers through his hair and pulls. Staring up at the ceiling trying to decipher what exactly he just experienced during his slumber.
Why did the people turn into an abomination? What was with that spider? Just before Manis could wonder anymore, the door to the hallway crashes open.
Madame Moiselle was the culprit, she waltzed in dawning her tattered black dress, stomping her ashy heels, with her deep sunken bags and dark eyes.
One could have sworn they were portals to a dreadful abyss. Alas, looks can be quite the deceiver. As this young foolish world and our young Manis would soon know, beauty is the greatest deception of life.
She was a feeble old woman and it only took a few heavy steps to wake all of the children. She looked down at them like an archaic tree withering in the wind, moving her forearms behind her hips and straightening her back. (Her likeness to the tree was astounding, her joints even creaked like the branches that populated the lush greenwoods of Domewyrd.)
She tilted her lips upward, stretching her wrinkles in a pleasant way. Leaning over slightly and her dark eyes seem to glimmer slightly, she opened her mouth with a wide grin, rolling her tongue in such a way that you could have sworn that sunlight peered from her throat.
"Up, up, up! My talented tykes!"
"Now my groggy dears, rub your sockets, stretch your little bones, greet the sunlight! for today my children, today is that time of year again.”
“Were travelers come to see my talented tykes perform."
Madame Moiselle strides over to the window, yanking the curtain, as echoes of groans grace the bedroom.
All at once the children realized what day it was, there was a play to perform, chairs to set up, costumes to wear, and roles to rehearse. They all twitched with their eyes bulging, their grins stretched, and almost simultaneously shot out of their beds. All the children scurried in their trunks for their linens, drawers, and shoes.
Manis was the first one out of the room, as they hopped, jumped, and stampeded down the stairs for breakfast, and yet again Manis was the first one at the table, with his eyes bright, his orange hair even brighter. The day was dark, as it always was in these times.
Lanterns were always riddled around the house, in front of the orphanage, and all around the village. Madame Moiselle, threw all of their bowls on the table in an acrobatic fashion. Spinning them and herself as she set the table for the children, spouting in a joyous tune
"Eat my children, we've have a big day. NO! the biggest day of the year! Eat up and get in character my darlings, we all have a part to play, especially our talented Manis!"
She shuffles behind Manis's chair with her boney fingers resting them on Manis's frail shoulders as he grunts in displeasure.
"All of us have a part to play, and my dears, I have the utmost faith that we will get that standing ovation!"
"For it may be that time of year children, but I have some glorious news my dears, glorious news I say!"
Waving her hands back and forth, "There's a special someone who's said to attend our yearly play, I didn't want to put any unnecessary stress on my darlings. Oh! But I couldn’t resist not-telling you! If we do put on a show worthy of the name “Talented Tykes”, it just may, seal us entree to the eastern islands to perform for the king of Mahree himself!"
The children all stared at each other in amazement, shouting and hollering, banging on the table, but not Manis. Manis stood quiet, his arms crossed.
"We'll see, our parents aren't here for us so what makes you morons think that a bunch of snooty highly-folk will be there for us?"
They all got quiet, as Madame Moiselle interjected,
"Oh Manis, you brooder! Children, I assure you a representative of the king will be here!"
She brushes off his comment as her unbreakable smile seemed to twitch.
"Now children! eat up! eat up, and scurry along to my room! we must get ready! and Manis! Jaykob! go set up the chairs in front of the stage! take all the ones from the kitchen, and living room! some other genuine folk from the village have donated their personal chairs as well, so take the ones from the kitchen and living room my dears, and set them up in rows, but Manis, Jaykob, leave a gap in the middle so we can walk off stage."
"You've got a big performance today Manis; I know you can do it my love."
Madame Moiselle, pets both Manis and Jaykob's hair. Smiling, she turns around bouncily, slowly limping up the stairs as her joints creak and the children finish eating.
Manis & Jaykob grab two chairs each from the living room and walk out the front door, still groggy wobbling with chairs bigger than themselves and onto the dirt path heading into the village. Manis was slightly at a faster pace so Jaykob scurried to catch-up.
The dirt path winded from the orphanage down a hill and into the town square, surrounded by an ocean of water and the subtle breeze of the sea. Their hair blew in their faces as they picked up their kicking up dirt as they ran.
"Hey Manis!"
Jaykob said as they jogged into town.
"yeah?"
"Do you really think we have a shot at making into the Eastern Kingdom?"
"ha-ha"
Manis chuckled.
"Honestly? No, I don't, I think Miss Moiselle just wants us to be happy and put on one hell of a show, I mean, sure Jaykob, it would be a grand opportunity. As much as I’d love to believe that would happen to us, we're just lowly orphans!"
"We were shit onto this earth, sure, there's actors and poets in the eastern kingdoms, but they're all high-borns. They're all adults, and surely they all have or at the very least had god-damned parents."
Manis was shaking, and Jaykob got quiet, but then replied "Yeah, I guess you're right Manis, it is too good to be true, but there's nothing wrong with hope."
Manis laughed again as they skidded in the dirt to stop in front of the dingy stage.
"Yeah, if you don't mind being a fool."
he said with his tongue out, as Jaykob laughed along. They began setting up the four Chairs they had and ran back through the village. Up the hill and along the path, back into the orphanage. The rest of the children had already finished their breakfast and were presumably upstairs so they grabbed the chairs from the kitchen in one trip, bolting out the door and back into town.
Jolting back-down the dirt path, kicking up dirt and rocks. Skidding in the dirt to barely stop in front of the stage as Manis & Jaykob finished setting up the main chairs. They spaced them obsessively, evenly, Manis got irate over the specific spacing of the chairs until he began sweating.
Cursing and hollering, spit flying from his lips as he slams the last one down and bursts
"DONE, HOW CAN IT BE SO IRRITATING TO JUST OBTAIN ORDER,"
"FUCK"
he shouted.
"Fuck, Fuck, fuck!"
Suddenly, all Manis could see, was glimpses from the night his father abandoned him at this lowly village. He muttered with wide eyes, pulling his bright hair muttering "Father…Father...Alone."
Manis chuckled, which got louder, rising up in octaves to a shrieking shrill of a cackle. He had tears line his face, but Manis, Manis couldn't stop laughing.
Jaykob reached forth with his palm open, and shouted
"MANIS, GET IT TOGETHER YOU WHORESON!"
With the strike of his palm, Manis fell to the ground, confused. He was at a complete loss, it took him a few seconds but then he realized where he was, and what in the seven-hells had just happened. He wiped his face with his forearm on his knee, he grunted.
Pushing himself up and as Jaykob took his hand he grasped with a slap. Jaykob helped him up and wiped the dirt off of his back, stared Manis in the eyes and said:
"Manis.. it's okay, listen to me, You're your own man, and you've made it this far without a single soul! We're going to get out of this village one day, and we're both going to etch our name in this world, don't lose hope Manis. I'm always with you brother."
"Now wipe those foolish tears Manis, no lead actor needs to be bubbling like a weakling, especially not you Manis. "
Manis smiles, as he wipes off his face.
"Thanks Jaykob, what in the seven hells would I do without you?"
"I rightfully couldn't say Manis, but I do promise you, that regardless of the adventures that we will have. I will always stand by your side, Actor, poet, or even lunatic; I am by your side Manis. We don't have parents, or friends, we just have each other!"
They grinned as they sprinted, side-by-side. The dark day that stood before them, it was unbeknown to these young mortals, and the rest of the village for that matter.
Vaea smiled down upon them, not a single soul had the slightest idea of what was about to transpire on this fateful and tragic day, but it was already too late. Nor did Jaykob & Manis know, that they would both have a pivotal role to play.
Not only on this day but for the rest of their mortal lives, on a mysterious island to the East. A land enshrouded in a frigid miasma.
A mass of land that no one ever returned from, no mortals were ever seen on its shores, no signs of life graced the greenwoods, but all who gazed at its splendor in the distance, across the vast sea, felt its yearning call.
Once one had found themselves on the shores, not only would they never return but they would have no recollection of their travels. Quickly finding that their memories were just like the dense fog that enshrouds the landscape.
Maybe not now, or even tomorrow but eventually they'll forfeit their own will and realize it just is. Whether their mind is their own, or not. Whether their journey was their own or not, Whether they have changed for the worse, or mutated into something much more grotesque.
Once one had set foot on those shores, it was the beginning of the end of their mind. The end of their own thoughts. Heroes are born from tragedy, but the question is not when the tragedy will occur, but whom is the hero? Every world has an undying evil, for good cannot exist with evil.
Just as light will not exist without a shadow. Love refuses to exist without heart wrenching pain. Just as this Vast world could not exist without the first ones themselves, or the impeccable lands of: Domewyrd.
Madam Moiselle paced back and forth, stomping her heels, waving her hands a speaking in an inspiring tone.
"We've rehearsed your parts for months now, we've gotten you all costumes, every single one of you are more talented than any of the villagers have in their brittle fingers! You are my talented tykes! The time is almost upon us to march toward that stage, and children once your feet are out the door, the play begins.”
“You will all remain in character until the final act comes to a close and we all bow on stage, understood my talented darlings."
As she finishes speaking she shakes her finger, scanning her eyes back and forth between the children.
"Yes, Madame Moiselle."
They all chanted in a harmonious but monotonous tone. Just as the children replied, Manis and Jaykob stormed up the stars and jumped into the room like frogs. With a stomp of their feet, everyone in the room cocked their head. Manis chuckled and said
"The chairs are done! Madam! now, isn't time to put on a show?" Jaykob merely smiled, as Madam Moiselle clapped her hands."
Just what I wanted to hear my talented darlings! Jaykob, Manis, come here and put these on.
She hands Jaykob his costume. Sewn together from scraps of different colored cloths and an old dirty hat with a feather sticking through the brim. She handed Manis something similar but in the style of a doublet, and a tattered cape with holes scattered about. As Manis and Jaykob finish getting dressed, Manis rolled his tongue and spoke in a more annunciated and profound dialect.
"MY SUBJECTS, I DO BELIVE, WE HAVE A WAR TO WIN; MY FELLOW COUNTRYMAN, MY SOLDIERS, MY HONORABLE SUBJECTS, FOLLOW ME INTO THE FLAMES AND I ASSURE YOU; YOU WILL STRIDE THROUGH THE HEAVY BLAZE LIK AN IRON TITAN!"
Madam Moiselle giggles, as the children clap for Manis, he holds his cape out with both hands and bows. Lifting his head up while still bent over he glares like a wolf, grinning wryly.
"Well, what are we waiting for?! Let us make haste! for a brighter tomorrow!"
Manis holds his chest high as he shoots down the stairs with a slam, and shouts as the children and Madame Moiselle follow in suit.
"WHAT ARE WE WAITING FOR! COME ON!!!"
As the children rush down stairs, three of them grab instruments: An old trumpet, and a pair of drums. Heading out the door Manis marches with his knees high and his chest puffed, his “holey” cape flowing. The children with the instruments follow just behind Manis, the rest follow and lastly, behind everyone, limping, was Madam Moiselle.
The children bang those drums in a slow, loud tempo. The child with the trumpet played a loud, bursting tune, that only a king would be expected to march in rhythm with his loyal soldiers. The other remaining children had make-shift swords and shields, carved by Jaykob & Manis. ( Truthfully Manis had heaps of make-shift daggers whittled from tree bark hidden in his trunk, although those were crafted out of a paranoia. Manis knew a thing or two about crafting a weapon.)
As Manis and the rest of the children(along with the limping, Madam Moiselle.) made it to the bottom of the dirt hill. He raised his hands at the drummers and told them to bang louder, and so they did. People had already arrived, the chairs were filled and a good dozen villagers were standing behind the chairs.
Somehow word spread, Manis had only been with the orphanage a year prior, so he only had one annual play before this. Even then, there were never this many people, let alone to fill all of the chairs. All the children stomped in synch, the audience cocked their heads and began clapping.
Manis stomped the loudest, radiating confidence with each slam of his boot, as they marched between the seats, and walked up the dingy steps of the stage, well, eight of them did. Two children remained behind the stage in charge of props and setting the scene—
Between each of the three acts. The talented tykes that graced the stage all lined up. Shoulder to shoulder, Manis & Jaykob stood in the middle, and then Jaykob slowly stepped forward. Lowering his frail hands just below his hips, scanning his eyes through the crowd, a storm was approaching the village but Jaykob paid no mind. He took a deep breath and addressed the crowd.
"My friends, my neighbors, ladies and gentleman. Today is a special day, once a year you all travel to this lowly town, and each year you leave with a grin. As do your lovely children, this year shall not be any less unique."
He paces left and right on the stage just in front of Manis. The clouds began moving faster, blurring in their pristine movement.
Again, Jaykob paid no mind, but the inattentive never know when it is, far, far too late.
"We have a special play for you today. A king, a dreadful lover, we are truly taking you to faraway lands on this fateful day. You'll laugh, you'll cry, and you may get sick to your sinking stomach."
Jaykob spins around, flailing and waving his hands with a devilish smirk.
"You can't say I didn't warn you folks"
An older gentleman in the crowd, who wasn't that fit, nor that happy. A pudgy, balding man, who reeked of liquor, he shouted out.
"WHORESONS! PLAGUE ON THE LOT OF YOU! WHEN MY FATHER--"
Those clouds grew thicker, and darker, and shortly before the rain began to fall. A bolt of lightning crashes in the distance, five-hundred yards behind Manis and the stage. All the children jumped in a fright, letting out gasps and shrieks, all of them drenching sweat from one of nature’s many dreads.
Before the talented tykes could even get their act together and put the play underway, there was heavy, stamping hooves in the distance. Not one or two, but a whole lot of them. The entire village stopped, wondering what could possibly be headed their way.
Many of them had a sinking feeling that in a dark time like this, when it rains in such a way, one could only know that only bad things were heading their way. Just over the hill the unknown riders stampeded toward the village.
They kicked up dust, trampling as fast as they could and their leader was the most intimidating. They all had a healthy and heart build, but their leader seemed to tower over his men.
He dawned a onyx black helmet, a tiny slit that fit over his eyes like a grin formed his visor, his pauldrons were round, big, and bulbous. The leader’s cuirass had layers of thick plated armor fit with scales that draped over his legs.
With each step of his and his company’s horses, the leader huffed cold air through his visor, they all hollered, shrieking and blaring obscenities. Their armor clanked, their black horses, they whipped. If the seven hells had an army, this would be it, Manis pondered.
Stricken with fear, drenching sweat into his balled fist. As they reached the village, the devil of a leader raised his polished silver sword. The blade glistened and a bright golden aura surrounded it. He shouted to such a degree split flew from within his visor.
“FOR VAEA, FOR LIFE!”
They all croaked in agreement,
“HERE HEAR!”
“FOR LIFE MY DREADFULNESS!”
“SHE GAVE US OUR EXISTENCE! SO AFFRAY FOR OUR HONOR WE MUST!”
“ANOTHER TOWN, SOME MORE WOMEN, AND EVEN MORE THRILLS!”
“HERE HEAR!”
The leader and his men split-apart, five of his men slowly lit torches and burned their shacks to the ground, all the while laughing until their veins throbbed. Whether or not children were napping, or a family or two weren’t viewing the play because they just happened to be ill, none of these things mattered.
When their torches dimmed they used the burning shacks for fuel. The leader and two of his men, circled around the dingy stage, the children, and the audience.
The intimidating leader dismounted with a grunt, handing his horse’s reins to one of his men to lead as they continued to circle the stage, laughing and hollering. The leader’s armor clanged as he planted his heavy boots into the soil. Looking down on the children even from below the stage’s wooden stairs.
He was still heaving cold air, the children were all shaking in their tiny shoes, well everyone except for Manis. He knew there was something about this bandit leader, something about him, maybe it was his towering height, or his demeaning armor.
Or maybe, just maybe, it was the cold air he was breathing. All Manis knew was this man reeked of death. The leader spoke no words, he only continued to breathe. scanning each and every one of the children as he slowly stomped toward the stage.
Madam Moiselle couldn’t help but chomp on her fingernails and just as he was about to set foot on those dingy steps, she bolted in front of him with her arms wide open and shouted.
“STOP!”
“Whatever it is you want, take it from me, please. I beg thee.”
Tears began flowing from her eyes, her knees buckled and fell to the dirt.
“PLEASE!”
She shrieked as she placed her palms on the scales of his armor.
“These children! They’re all I have, don’t take them from me like the sea took my husband!”
The leader says nothing; he merely stares down upon her. He huffs another puff of cold air, his armor clanks, he raises his right hand and with his onyx plated gauntlets, grabs her by the throat, squeezing her until she turned purple. Staring from the darkness of his visor, watching her claw and thrash for air. The leader only squeezed harder, tightening his grip, her veins throbbing, her eyes watering, as her mouth opens he gazes into the windows of her soul, watching the life leave her body. Just as Madam Moiselle begins to go limp, the kids all scream, of course, everyone but Manis, his fists only balled tighter.
The daunting leader tossed her to the side in front of the stage, the audience cried and screamed for their beloved ol’ Moiselle. He began stomping toward the stage, his boots were so heavy that when he collided with the first step it crushed beneath his weight. When he plummeted his foot toward the second step, all four of the steps shattered into splinters of wood. Crunching beneath his onyx-plated boots, he looks down and raises his left foot high and onto the stage. Then his right foot followed after while shaking the debris off of his plated boot.
He walks past the children, completely ignoring everyone, even Jacob, but he halted at Manis and pivoted his gaze toward him. The blackness of his visor judging, peering into the windows of his soul, slowly reading him.
The leader slowly reaches for the hilt of his sword, Manis’s eyes stretch wide and his glances at Jaykob. The leader releases his hand from his sword, he then kneels down placing his plated-forearm on his kneecap.
With his left hand he lifts his visor-up and tosses it to the side. His face was unpleasant, a scar stretched from his forehead down to his chin, his nose was enormous and protruding, with dark brown eyes. Bushy eyebrows graced with rough and weathered skin. He spoke in a deep, raspy voice.
“Now little Manis Furin, I know you’re a young tyke, a foolish rambunctious one, but here’s some manly advice.” “Every man has a weakness, and once he reveals it, he’s ultimately vulnerable.”
Manis chuckled. “What’s my weakness then? You’re just a cowardly bandit who preys on the defenseless!” The rugged leader grins wryly, “Your friend here, you just looked to him like one would a brother.” “A good teacher would know, if you give advice you must give a relatable example.” “And I’m a wonderful teacher! Aren’t I boys?!” His men all cackle, even the ones still burning homes in the distance.
“A regular professor you are sir!” “I remember when I was just a lost boy, now I have purpose, honor, and pride!” “YOU MADE MEN OUT OF US YET!” The leader throws his hands out, “See? And you all want to make me out as some vile villain! You and the whole lot of you are ignorant!”
“To the powers that created us, the forces we were not meant to understand!” “How the great Vaea gave us the gift of our existence! And the least we can do is carry out her bidding! So that one day she may grace these lowly lands with her splendor.”
“You know not of the world my young Manis, so I forgive you, but I was sent here on a quest, to make you vulnerable, and find your manhood, you’re going to accomplish things in your later years Manis, and none of this will make sense for years, but I assure you in time, it will.”
The leader slowly stands back on his feet, walking towards Jaykob, he raises his palm toward him as Manis yells in a fright lunging toward him. The leader smacks him with his other plated arm, instantly breaking Manis’s nose as his falls with a thud on the stage and groans. The leader places his hand around Jaykob’s tiny throat, raising him to his eye level with one tightly gripped hand. “Now watch Manis, this, this is a pivotal moment in your life, one you will never forget.”
Jaykob tries to scream but all that leaves his throat is something vague and hoarse. Jaykob clawed against his armor, his veins throbbing, his eyes popping and watering.
“See how your weakness has made you vulnerable Manis? If you learn anything let it be this: People are weak, and caring for them will leave your stomach gutting on the side of a dirt path.”
He raises Jaykob above his fore head, his legs sloshing around. With one forceful move and a groan the leader throws Jaykob down by his throat.
His nose crunches, his face bruised, as his nostrils pour blood like a faucet. The leader makes eye contact with a now-rage-filled Manis, his fists shaking, his bright eyes burning with hatred, but Manis doesn’t flinch, he doesn’t move and he doesn’t speak.
The leader breaks his eye contact and kneels over Jaykob, grabbing his helmet and raises his arms and smashes his helmet into his face. Once, twice, and three times, but the leader doesn’t stop. He bashes Jaykob’s face until it’s unrecognizable, by the ninth hit.
Jaykob’s teeth began to fly betwixt the spurts of blood, each pounding pummel, bones crunched, blood flew, and the audience was screaming and crying like bubbling idiots.
The leader was laughing and he was nowhere near stopping his relentless brutality. Manis slowly waltzed toward the leader with the biggest, scariest grin imaginable. The leader has a dagger on his left hip, and Manis quickly steals it under his nose. The leader instantly takes notice and begins to turn around and just as his eyes meet Manis’s it would be the last thing he ever saw.
Manis screams “WEAKNESS LEAVES YOU VULNERABLE DOESN’T IT?!” Manis thrusts the dagger straight into his throat. Staring into his eyes, but he doesn’t pull the blade out, he jags it inside and tugs it around.
Gritting his teeth, as his eyes start the water works and finally pulls the blade out. With a spurt of blood, Manis lets out a monstrous scream. Not the product of a child mind you, but a traumatized man. Holding the dagger in both hands he stabs him exactly the same number of times he bashed Jaykob’s skull, ten dreadful and brutal strikes.
Manis thrusted the blade, like each incision wasn’t satisfying enough. As he panicked, he felt the world around him vibrate and the colors of the grass and trees were specifically more vibrant, but Manis, Manis couldn’t stop laughing.
Lost in a hysteric episode, Manis was crying, screaming and laughing all at once. The leader’s Men, were in such a state of shock they didn’t have a reaction other than strolling toward the stage, and Manis. He stood up, still laughing and covered in the leader’s blood.
Manis bolted in a jolt of a fright, jumping off of the stage and sprinting toward the sea. The men at first payed no mind to Manis fleeing. They took it upon themselves to start cutting and slashing every villager, every child, every mother and every father.
As if the villages were the real objective, leaving Manis to only the unrelenting horror of watching the only people that ever offered a breath of compassion toward him, slaughtered, maimed, and raped.
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