Username: SilhouetteStation
Name: Alder
Gender: Male
• • • • •
It was raining the night he entered the tavern, body concealed by the cloak he wore. The barman looked up as the stranger approached, pulling back his hood to reveal his face.
"Cider, please," he asked quietly. His voice was deep, somehow both smooth and gravelly. While the barman poured out the golden liquid, he glanced around him. A few people sat inside, chatting to themselves, complaining of the weather. They all kept glancing over at him.
Drink in hand, he ambled over towards the fireplace and removed his cloak, placing it next to him as he sat down in a vacant chair, letting out a heavy sigh as he did so.
The tavern was silent, before breaking out into small whispers. He knew why, but it was awhile before anyone plucked up the courage to say anything.
"Listen, stranger," someone began. "If you wouldn't mind, we're all curious to hear the story about your arm, there."
He glanced down at the arm in question, and then stared off into the flames.
"I was Captain of the Royal Guard," he began. "The King's knights. I took my horse out for a ride one day in the forest. The day the earthquake happened."
Someone let out a little gasp, which wasn't surprising. That terrible event was still fresh in everyone's memories. The whole kingdom had been affected in some way.
"The ground shook, and I was thrown off and fell into a crevice that had just opened up. The earth was still moving, and as I tried to climb up, a rock was forced forward and crushed my arm. I had to dig my feet in on either side of the walls to keep myself steady. By the time the land settled, my horse was gone. It was just me, the dirt, and an Alder tree that had toppled over a few metres above me.
For a long time I was only half conscious. The pain made me dizzy. I kept blacking out. The only thing I could concentrate on was my feet, keeping them steady, keeping me upright. I waited for search parties, but a storm followed the quake. I could hear the wind. It rained heavily. The tree leaves helped to keep me from getting drenched. I drank water that dripped from the roots reaching down to me.
A long time passed. Days, weeks, I didn't know. Too long. I was thin, starving. The pain in my arm had subsided, but I couldn't get it free. I knew I wasn't going to be stuck here with it. Physically I was weak, but mentally I was strong. So I made the decision." He stopped, tense as though reliving the memory.
Everyone had moved closer. They waited quietly until someone timidly asked, "What decision?"
"To cut it off."
Silence.
"I still had my sword, and cut off the longest root I could manage. With my hand and teeth I tied it around my bad arm, an inch from where it was stuck, and pulled tight. Horribly tight. From there it was just a waiting game until the blood flow stopped, and it was numb. And then, I cut it off."
A collective shudder ran through the room. Oddly, he seemed to relax again.
"It was strange being able to move my shoulder again. Freeing, almost. From there I used my good hand to grab the roots, and my feet to climb up the earth. It took awhile but I managed to pull myself up, onto the Alder tree, and over onto the grass. I'll never forget that feeling, of laying back to look at the sky. Seeing the clouds, the forest. Feeling proper sunshine. Just laying there, breathing. The overwhelming feeling of relief.
I staggered my way back towards the castle. A group of riders found me, and helped to bring me home. No one could quite believe I was alive, but they were joyous all the same. It was months before I recovered properly, but I knew things couldn't be the same.
Early retirement, they called it. I wasn't exactly Captain material anymore, so I couldn't resume that roll. Couldn't carry out all my duties one-handed. I think I could, though. I think I can."
A long silence. There were mixed looks of awe, respect, and pity.
"That's quite a story," the barman said softly. "So what brings you here?"
"Travelling. I've heard that a master swordsman lives around here, and I want to find them. Learn one-handed combat, literally. To prove a point, or to prove to myself I can do it. I'm not sure yet. I figure I'll know once I find them."
A few nods, a few murmurs, a few uncertain faces. No one seemed quite sure what to say. How to carry on a conversation after a story like that.
"Can I ask you something?" The barman spoke up.
"Sure."
"What's your name?"
He gave a half smile. "I don't often use my birth name anymore. You can call me Alder. It's only right I should name myself after the thing that saved my life. If it hadn't of been for that tree, I'm not sure I'd be here to share my story."
The night carried on. Small conversations started back up. A bit of music was played. Alder stayed where he was, sipping cider and listening to the rain falling outside. The soft firelight cast golden shadows upon his dark face. His arm was not hidden, rather, he had no shame it letting people see. Letting the scarring tell of his strength and survival. Sometimes he would dream it was still there, in full. He looked at it now, but not with sadness. This was him now. It felt like him. He touched it with his fingertips; it was warm.
(965/1000)
Name: Alder
Gender: Male
• • • • •
It was raining the night he entered the tavern, body concealed by the cloak he wore. The barman looked up as the stranger approached, pulling back his hood to reveal his face.
"Cider, please," he asked quietly. His voice was deep, somehow both smooth and gravelly. While the barman poured out the golden liquid, he glanced around him. A few people sat inside, chatting to themselves, complaining of the weather. They all kept glancing over at him.
Drink in hand, he ambled over towards the fireplace and removed his cloak, placing it next to him as he sat down in a vacant chair, letting out a heavy sigh as he did so.
The tavern was silent, before breaking out into small whispers. He knew why, but it was awhile before anyone plucked up the courage to say anything.
"Listen, stranger," someone began. "If you wouldn't mind, we're all curious to hear the story about your arm, there."
He glanced down at the arm in question, and then stared off into the flames.
"I was Captain of the Royal Guard," he began. "The King's knights. I took my horse out for a ride one day in the forest. The day the earthquake happened."
Someone let out a little gasp, which wasn't surprising. That terrible event was still fresh in everyone's memories. The whole kingdom had been affected in some way.
"The ground shook, and I was thrown off and fell into a crevice that had just opened up. The earth was still moving, and as I tried to climb up, a rock was forced forward and crushed my arm. I had to dig my feet in on either side of the walls to keep myself steady. By the time the land settled, my horse was gone. It was just me, the dirt, and an Alder tree that had toppled over a few metres above me.
For a long time I was only half conscious. The pain made me dizzy. I kept blacking out. The only thing I could concentrate on was my feet, keeping them steady, keeping me upright. I waited for search parties, but a storm followed the quake. I could hear the wind. It rained heavily. The tree leaves helped to keep me from getting drenched. I drank water that dripped from the roots reaching down to me.
A long time passed. Days, weeks, I didn't know. Too long. I was thin, starving. The pain in my arm had subsided, but I couldn't get it free. I knew I wasn't going to be stuck here with it. Physically I was weak, but mentally I was strong. So I made the decision." He stopped, tense as though reliving the memory.
Everyone had moved closer. They waited quietly until someone timidly asked, "What decision?"
"To cut it off."
Silence.
"I still had my sword, and cut off the longest root I could manage. With my hand and teeth I tied it around my bad arm, an inch from where it was stuck, and pulled tight. Horribly tight. From there it was just a waiting game until the blood flow stopped, and it was numb. And then, I cut it off."
A collective shudder ran through the room. Oddly, he seemed to relax again.
"It was strange being able to move my shoulder again. Freeing, almost. From there I used my good hand to grab the roots, and my feet to climb up the earth. It took awhile but I managed to pull myself up, onto the Alder tree, and over onto the grass. I'll never forget that feeling, of laying back to look at the sky. Seeing the clouds, the forest. Feeling proper sunshine. Just laying there, breathing. The overwhelming feeling of relief.
I staggered my way back towards the castle. A group of riders found me, and helped to bring me home. No one could quite believe I was alive, but they were joyous all the same. It was months before I recovered properly, but I knew things couldn't be the same.
Early retirement, they called it. I wasn't exactly Captain material anymore, so I couldn't resume that roll. Couldn't carry out all my duties one-handed. I think I could, though. I think I can."
A long silence. There were mixed looks of awe, respect, and pity.
"That's quite a story," the barman said softly. "So what brings you here?"
"Travelling. I've heard that a master swordsman lives around here, and I want to find them. Learn one-handed combat, literally. To prove a point, or to prove to myself I can do it. I'm not sure yet. I figure I'll know once I find them."
A few nods, a few murmurs, a few uncertain faces. No one seemed quite sure what to say. How to carry on a conversation after a story like that.
"Can I ask you something?" The barman spoke up.
"Sure."
"What's your name?"
He gave a half smile. "I don't often use my birth name anymore. You can call me Alder. It's only right I should name myself after the thing that saved my life. If it hadn't of been for that tree, I'm not sure I'd be here to share my story."
The night carried on. Small conversations started back up. A bit of music was played. Alder stayed where he was, sipping cider and listening to the rain falling outside. The soft firelight cast golden shadows upon his dark face. His arm was not hidden, rather, he had no shame it letting people see. Letting the scarring tell of his strength and survival. Sometimes he would dream it was still there, in full. He looked at it now, but not with sadness. This was him now. It felt like him. He touched it with his fingertips; it was warm.
(965/1000)
Kurai | Any
