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Please only post your own original work, do not post poetry or stories which were written by someone else.
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β§ πΉππππΆπ π ππΆπΉππ π - πΉπππ β
by cervidae » Fri Jun 09, 2017 12:05 pm
Last edited by cervidae on Sat Jun 17, 2017 12:28 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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by cervidae » Fri Jun 09, 2017 2:21 pm
A gentle boy who wouldn't dream of hurting anyone. Soft, cowardly, a bit too scared to try and stand up physically to anyone. He can't stand how 'weak' he is, but he tries his best. reserved, softly watching the world go by. he has a kind heart, and is trying to surpass the prior. he believes, despite everything people can change. and in the end, it'll be okay.
Last edited by cervidae on Sat Jun 17, 2017 7:09 am, edited 2 times in total.
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by cervidae » Fri Jun 09, 2017 2:24 pm
music for this section
"Many years before our own, in an age where our head was practically locked in the guillotine, a devil's pact was to be made. Our matron, a radiant kalon, shining and beautiful, sacrificed herself to protect the generations to come."
The sister had told this story time and time again, yet Fenny never tired of it. She says it came to her, the creation of their family, the meaning of their crest, through a dream.
The dream was the same, reoccurring, to the point she could time every moment. Each time, lasting a bit longer than the last.
"Finish the story, Fie" The youngest pleaded.
"A deal was struck, a life, for lives. The matron was beloved, benevolent, there was no hesitation. Rivaled with a witch; cast off, loathed, a destroyer of towns. Remembered by sapping everything they could. The matron was not spared. After the deed had been done, it dissipated, hidden between the gentle embrace of shadows.
With only enough life to last the next few hours (they wished for her to suffer in ways akin to their own) she was crowded with fireflies. They couldn't bear to lose her luminescence, and took her to be their own.
Fenny, the fireflies will always be with you, they'll love and protect you, when you need it."
The Hagen house was a prosperous one, centered entirely of and around precious stones. Some set intricately in weapons of status, some providing an incomprehensible boon for the patron, and others, just for decorative purposes. The more expensive ones were hexed, embedded with magics to suit the customer's needs. The cheaper ones.. were probably fake to save expenses. Let's be real here.
To be a Hagen, as an outsider would put it, was to be of achieved nobility. They were protected, provided for, supplied with materials to support their wares, it was of stunning quality, and the family was rumored to hold a hefty position in the Lord's seat.
This of course, is an entirely naive conclusion. Naturally, the above was true, but most would have stopped at that. Never glancing as to who would be pulling the strings.
As most lands were, the house took part in a smaller "kingdom." The lord of the land, likely sired a common stereotype. Corrupt, drunk on manipulation and his own self-gain. He saw the collected houses as nothing more than pieces on a playing field; all to serve whichever purpose he assigned, and to be sacrificed if need be.
In a quite literal sense, he was a towering force. Overpowering and ingeniously structured. His land was just small enough to know everything about everyone - no one would dream of rebelling. His thumb was firm on the Hagen house, most of all. They reeled in the most profit, as their skill in enchanting was akin to no other. Quickly, his influence managed to subdue Fenway's father. Now a personal lapdog, hardly of sufficient size. With the head of the house under his control, anyone would think that he was a member of the family. And it wasn't long before the members themselves took him in.
-
Despite all that, Fenny was graced with a darling childhood. He never realized the gravity of the situation, or what exactly was the cause of his father coming home late at night. His sister was a lamb of a kalon, gentle, loving, she seemed to radiate the same light as the matron in her stories. Perhaps it was with her leaving, that sparked Fenway following in her footsteps...
A day in his childhood would usually follow the same routine:
He would awake, eyes hardly open, to the smell of fresh food in the morning. There would be pastries, dusted in powder, and topped with the sweetest of fruits. Fresh milk would always be served along with it. And strips of savoury bacon, drizzled with a light butter would top the meal off. After cleaning up, his sister would take him by the paw, leading him to the marketplace. Weaving in and out of the crowds, carefully selecting whatever mother had requested, and stopping by where father had set up shop.
Their father would always grin, setting aside a few spare coins for them to spend as they wish. With the result of their allowance in paw, they would return home and play until they were called inside. It's so odd, children can always find the simplest things to busy themselves with.
-
Everyone sees their bit of hell as they grow, the children of the Hagen house were no different.
Fenway's sister was older by six years. As she shifted to a lady of higher status, her mind went with it. Her brilliance shown through with intelligence and character, in Fenny's eyes at least. Perhaps she realized the family was doomed, perhaps she was spirited away. As irrational as it seems, Fenway hoped she finally went to follow her stories. That the fireflies took her away with them so she could live a life without being a pet.
Her leaving was sudden, quick. It left no room to process what was happening. It showed that he really didn't know that much about her after all, as she had never shown a glimpse of hate or dissatisfaction. What sparked the idea? No one had ever thought to one-up the lord. It left a bad taste in his mouth.
Eventually, Fenway grew. He learned more, how to handle things, his limits. He couldn't revolt, it wasn't in his nature, so he did the one thing that he could avidly agree with
leave.
"Many years before our own, in an age where our head was practically locked in the guillotine, a devil's pact was to be made. Our matron, a radiant kalon, shining and beautiful, sacrificed herself to protect the generations to come."
The sister had told this story time and time again, yet Fenny never tired of it. She says it came to her, the creation of their family, the meaning of their crest, through a dream.
The dream was the same, reoccurring, to the point she could time every moment. Each time, lasting a bit longer than the last.
"Finish the story, Fie" The youngest pleaded.
"A deal was struck, a life, for lives. The matron was beloved, benevolent, there was no hesitation. Rivaled with a witch; cast off, loathed, a destroyer of towns. Remembered by sapping everything they could. The matron was not spared. After the deed had been done, it dissipated, hidden between the gentle embrace of shadows.
With only enough life to last the next few hours (they wished for her to suffer in ways akin to their own) she was crowded with fireflies. They couldn't bear to lose her luminescence, and took her to be their own.
Fenny, the fireflies will always be with you, they'll love and protect you, when you need it."
The Hagen house was a prosperous one, centered entirely of and around precious stones. Some set intricately in weapons of status, some providing an incomprehensible boon for the patron, and others, just for decorative purposes. The more expensive ones were hexed, embedded with magics to suit the customer's needs. The cheaper ones.. were probably fake to save expenses. Let's be real here.
To be a Hagen, as an outsider would put it, was to be of achieved nobility. They were protected, provided for, supplied with materials to support their wares, it was of stunning quality, and the family was rumored to hold a hefty position in the Lord's seat.
This of course, is an entirely naive conclusion. Naturally, the above was true, but most would have stopped at that. Never glancing as to who would be pulling the strings.
As most lands were, the house took part in a smaller "kingdom." The lord of the land, likely sired a common stereotype. Corrupt, drunk on manipulation and his own self-gain. He saw the collected houses as nothing more than pieces on a playing field; all to serve whichever purpose he assigned, and to be sacrificed if need be.
In a quite literal sense, he was a towering force. Overpowering and ingeniously structured. His land was just small enough to know everything about everyone - no one would dream of rebelling. His thumb was firm on the Hagen house, most of all. They reeled in the most profit, as their skill in enchanting was akin to no other. Quickly, his influence managed to subdue Fenway's father. Now a personal lapdog, hardly of sufficient size. With the head of the house under his control, anyone would think that he was a member of the family. And it wasn't long before the members themselves took him in.
-
Despite all that, Fenny was graced with a darling childhood. He never realized the gravity of the situation, or what exactly was the cause of his father coming home late at night. His sister was a lamb of a kalon, gentle, loving, she seemed to radiate the same light as the matron in her stories. Perhaps it was with her leaving, that sparked Fenway following in her footsteps...
A day in his childhood would usually follow the same routine:
He would awake, eyes hardly open, to the smell of fresh food in the morning. There would be pastries, dusted in powder, and topped with the sweetest of fruits. Fresh milk would always be served along with it. And strips of savoury bacon, drizzled with a light butter would top the meal off. After cleaning up, his sister would take him by the paw, leading him to the marketplace. Weaving in and out of the crowds, carefully selecting whatever mother had requested, and stopping by where father had set up shop.
Their father would always grin, setting aside a few spare coins for them to spend as they wish. With the result of their allowance in paw, they would return home and play until they were called inside. It's so odd, children can always find the simplest things to busy themselves with.
-
Everyone sees their bit of hell as they grow, the children of the Hagen house were no different.
Fenway's sister was older by six years. As she shifted to a lady of higher status, her mind went with it. Her brilliance shown through with intelligence and character, in Fenny's eyes at least. Perhaps she realized the family was doomed, perhaps she was spirited away. As irrational as it seems, Fenway hoped she finally went to follow her stories. That the fireflies took her away with them so she could live a life without being a pet.
Her leaving was sudden, quick. It left no room to process what was happening. It showed that he really didn't know that much about her after all, as she had never shown a glimpse of hate or dissatisfaction. What sparked the idea? No one had ever thought to one-up the lord. It left a bad taste in his mouth.
Eventually, Fenway grew. He learned more, how to handle things, his limits. He couldn't revolt, it wasn't in his nature, so he did the one thing that he could avidly agree with
leave.
Last edited by cervidae on Sat Jun 17, 2017 12:24 pm, edited 6 times in total.
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cervidae - Posts: 1785
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β§ π₯ππππππ β
by cervidae » Fri Jun 09, 2017 2:26 pm
music for this section
The tower was filled with fireflies, dancing around the crumbling moss covered stones.Β Fenway came to this place quite often, a bastion from all the little horrors of his life.Β He would be leaving soon.Β It had gotten to be too much.Β Either he left or he do something that made him no better than them.Β Dancing in the night, free and quiet, occasionally flashing brilliant enough to announce to all that can see ' I AM HERE. 'Β It was strange to envy a bug, don't you think, he thought with a wiry grin. Β
-
In the later hours of the deep night, he left. A pouch, tied to his belt (filled to the brim with little odds and ends that seemed to be of importance) A pack, containing as much food as he could possibly shove and a burning ambition was all he could bring to show. That, of course, and a spare oil lamp. He had slid the shades over the gated windows, shielding as much light as possible. Similar to how a torch's light can be picked out from a crowd of trees, too much would give him away. Knowing the lord, that would lead to, well, his 'removal.'
Fenny had never been out on his own. Sure, he'd tag along with his father to neighbouring holds, but never out for longer than the established curfew. It was terrifying, but maybe for the first time he had control over where he was headed. That kind of freedom was unheard of before.
-
His goal was to get to a hold far from his homeland. No one could recognize him, lest they bring him back. The forests, although dense, were surprisingly easy to maneuver. He had no trouble making several hours if he darted between the parted trees.
He wouldn't admit it, being alone his devices, but he was lost. Terribly so.
He wasn't aware of how he was burning through the oil like a match through paper, and only was it brought to his attention when it was too late.
"Hell, oh by the gods come on!" He whipped his head wildly, scanning for something that would be of use.. there was nothing. "Hell, no, no, no!" He was greeted with darkness, and fell to his knees in panic. The trees were too thick to see the stars, and moving held the potential of him stumbling home in a blind fit. So he stayed put, bunched up, nose tucked under his bandanna. The silvery threads that stitched his family's crest were no longer visible, and he admitted defeat.
How long had he been out? It felt like hours, but still being greeted with a lasting dark, it wasn't long enough. He was cold, scared, out of his element. For the first time, he felt truly alone.
-
"Fenny, the fireflies will always be with you. They'll love and protect you, when you need it."
Those words, he had forgotten them. Why was he remembering it now? Feeling a soft prick on his nose, his eyes fluttered open, graced with something that brought him to tears.
The forest was draped in a heavenly light, fireflies flitting about. A certain bug was perched on his nose, glowing in a strange pattern. Memories flooded back. Fie, stories, fireflies... It all seemed to make sense when put into succession. He was stunned, it couldn't be.. could it? "Fie..! You came back!" He lept to his feet, following the seemingly endless trail. He wasn't sure where they were leading him, but certainly his sister was behind it.
-
It seemed to be for hours he was dancing behind them. He had forgotten the lamp in the midst of things, but it wasn't of importance now. As the morning sun broke through the crumbling night sky, he realized exactly where he was.
A sign peeked through the leaves. The name was familiar to say the least. It probably was jotted on the map hanging over his father's desk. They never thought about coming here, as they never seemed to reel in much interest, or coin. This was an ideal place for him. He knew it was forgotten, no one cared about it. This would be his home. Emerging from the woods, he was greeted by a small inn, and hastily went inside
The tower was filled with fireflies, dancing around the crumbling moss covered stones.Β Fenway came to this place quite often, a bastion from all the little horrors of his life.Β He would be leaving soon.Β It had gotten to be too much.Β Either he left or he do something that made him no better than them.Β Dancing in the night, free and quiet, occasionally flashing brilliant enough to announce to all that can see ' I AM HERE. 'Β It was strange to envy a bug, don't you think, he thought with a wiry grin. Β
-
In the later hours of the deep night, he left. A pouch, tied to his belt (filled to the brim with little odds and ends that seemed to be of importance) A pack, containing as much food as he could possibly shove and a burning ambition was all he could bring to show. That, of course, and a spare oil lamp. He had slid the shades over the gated windows, shielding as much light as possible. Similar to how a torch's light can be picked out from a crowd of trees, too much would give him away. Knowing the lord, that would lead to, well, his 'removal.'
Fenny had never been out on his own. Sure, he'd tag along with his father to neighbouring holds, but never out for longer than the established curfew. It was terrifying, but maybe for the first time he had control over where he was headed. That kind of freedom was unheard of before.
-
His goal was to get to a hold far from his homeland. No one could recognize him, lest they bring him back. The forests, although dense, were surprisingly easy to maneuver. He had no trouble making several hours if he darted between the parted trees.
He wouldn't admit it, being alone his devices, but he was lost. Terribly so.
He wasn't aware of how he was burning through the oil like a match through paper, and only was it brought to his attention when it was too late.
"Hell, oh by the gods come on!" He whipped his head wildly, scanning for something that would be of use.. there was nothing. "Hell, no, no, no!" He was greeted with darkness, and fell to his knees in panic. The trees were too thick to see the stars, and moving held the potential of him stumbling home in a blind fit. So he stayed put, bunched up, nose tucked under his bandanna. The silvery threads that stitched his family's crest were no longer visible, and he admitted defeat.
How long had he been out? It felt like hours, but still being greeted with a lasting dark, it wasn't long enough. He was cold, scared, out of his element. For the first time, he felt truly alone.
-
"Fenny, the fireflies will always be with you. They'll love and protect you, when you need it."
Those words, he had forgotten them. Why was he remembering it now? Feeling a soft prick on his nose, his eyes fluttered open, graced with something that brought him to tears.
The forest was draped in a heavenly light, fireflies flitting about. A certain bug was perched on his nose, glowing in a strange pattern. Memories flooded back. Fie, stories, fireflies... It all seemed to make sense when put into succession. He was stunned, it couldn't be.. could it? "Fie..! You came back!" He lept to his feet, following the seemingly endless trail. He wasn't sure where they were leading him, but certainly his sister was behind it.
-
It seemed to be for hours he was dancing behind them. He had forgotten the lamp in the midst of things, but it wasn't of importance now. As the morning sun broke through the crumbling night sky, he realized exactly where he was.
A sign peeked through the leaves. The name was familiar to say the least. It probably was jotted on the map hanging over his father's desk. They never thought about coming here, as they never seemed to reel in much interest, or coin. This was an ideal place for him. He knew it was forgotten, no one cared about it. This would be his home. Emerging from the woods, he was greeted by a small inn, and hastily went inside
Last edited by cervidae on Sat Jun 17, 2017 12:25 pm, edited 4 times in total.
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cervidae - Posts: 1785
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β§ π©ππ π΅πππΎπππΎπππ β
by cervidae » Fri Jun 09, 2017 2:28 pm
music for this section
It had been a good while since then, his new 'home' as he would call it was quite accepting of a wary traveler. This was common occurrence, so naturally he was treated with indifference. And naturally, he was too far for there to be any search of his whereabouts.
-
In the beginning, he wearily stumbled into the inn. It was set in a frame of trees, wooden and quaint. It was a stereotype of a place, but Fenny had no complaints. The keeper, a cheery lady by the name of Ardia, quickly ushered him inside, and divvied out portions of food.
After settling in (he had a room in the inn out for permanent rent) he of course needed to find work. Naturally, he was driven towards opening an enchanter's shop. His craft could live on, and he was considerably good at it. (That being said, it was required of the house to be able to do such) After spending a good week scouting the place out for a place to purchase, his idea was vetoed quickly. Not only had his expenses run dry, but the place was simply too densely populated to allow for another shop. And so he searched elsewhere.
Noticing a few spare flyers tacked on the walls, he discovered recruitment for the guard. Fenny was a bit too weak to really defend himself, and probably didn't have the endurance that came with it. Despite that, he was struck with dedication, and committed himself to changing. Training started promptly, it was a group session, and he gained a good many acquaintances from it. Slowly, he began to transform his image. He was more than the spooked traveler who fled from his home. Not just a gemsmith with too much in the way of hopes. He made a name for himself, slowly, and that name was recognized. He finally was in a healthy place that would support him.
-
His training did in fact pay off. He wasn't transformed to be a different being entirely, just a bit more stronger. He still was skittish,
and hardly had much on him in the way of fighting, but he learned what to look out for, and how to fit in to society.
Now, though he still dreams of being a gemsmith, and occasionally practices in hobby, he's happy with being a guard.
Not a typical "Arrow-in-the-knee" guard who are doomed to sit stationary in exactly one place for an eternity, but a flexible guard.
He stood watch over the town only when there were no other options, and spends his actual downtime renting his services to caravans and those in need of escorts. He's happy, and though there are a few enemies to be made, there are friends also.
It had been a good while since then, his new 'home' as he would call it was quite accepting of a wary traveler. This was common occurrence, so naturally he was treated with indifference. And naturally, he was too far for there to be any search of his whereabouts.
-
In the beginning, he wearily stumbled into the inn. It was set in a frame of trees, wooden and quaint. It was a stereotype of a place, but Fenny had no complaints. The keeper, a cheery lady by the name of Ardia, quickly ushered him inside, and divvied out portions of food.
Noticing a few spare flyers tacked on the walls, he discovered recruitment for the guard. Fenny was a bit too weak to really defend himself, and probably didn't have the endurance that came with it. Despite that, he was struck with dedication, and committed himself to changing. Training started promptly, it was a group session, and he gained a good many acquaintances from it. Slowly, he began to transform his image. He was more than the spooked traveler who fled from his home. Not just a gemsmith with too much in the way of hopes. He made a name for himself, slowly, and that name was recognized. He finally was in a healthy place that would support him.
-
His training did in fact pay off. He wasn't transformed to be a different being entirely, just a bit more stronger. He still was skittish,
and hardly had much on him in the way of fighting, but he learned what to look out for, and how to fit in to society.
Now, though he still dreams of being a gemsmith, and occasionally practices in hobby, he's happy with being a guard.
Not a typical "Arrow-in-the-knee" guard who are doomed to sit stationary in exactly one place for an eternity, but a flexible guard.
He stood watch over the town only when there were no other options, and spends his actual downtime renting his services to caravans and those in need of escorts. He's happy, and though there are a few enemies to be made, there are friends also.
Last edited by cervidae on Sat Jun 17, 2017 12:18 pm, edited 3 times in total.
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cervidae - Posts: 1785
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β§ πΏπΎπππ πΆππΉ ππΎπππΎπππ β
by cervidae » Fri Jun 09, 2017 2:29 pm
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cervidae - Posts: 1785
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