The Rite of Initiation (a story).
Posted: Thu May 05, 2005 7:35 pm
Chapter 1: "A Backstory for the Blind."The bright rays of the early morning sun began to peak through the window of his chamber, reminding him of the task he had sworn to perform today. It wasn't that he didn't want to do it, but simply a matter of uncertainty. He didn't know what to expect. He hated that feeling, but he wasnt obsesive over it. It had been a year and a half since he had washed up on the island. When they found him he was unconcious. He woke up in the very same chamber he still occupied. As per most marooned men, he had a case of severe amnesia. His past was locked behind a giant, wooden door. One he couldn't open. One he didn't want to open he thought. Something dark lay behind that door... he could allmost remember it... SLAM! -The Door slammed shut again.- Whatever he had been, he had turned over a new leaf. He wanted no part of what of his past. There was only the present and future for him. They had taken him in without hesitation. Without fear. Without hatred. He knew this was where he belonged, and had strived to belong ever since. This was why he had never had anyone versed in Psionics or magic try and budge the memories.He slowly sat up in bed and absently rubbed at the tattoo's on his arm. On both his arms were several interlapping tattoos with strange images and languages on them. On his left arm at the top was a female vampire, wearing a torn dress; and below it were several dark-themed images interspered with foriegn text. His right arm was the opposite, crowned by a phoenix. He was sure they meant something to someone somewhere, but everytime he tried to think about it -SLAM-, the ever-present door shut him out.They hadn't given him any specific time to be somewhere, but he wanted to get an early start. He stood up to his feet, and ran his hand through his black, shoulder-length hair. It was allways messy, but the girls seemed to like it so he never bothered with it. He had only been wearing his black pants, but he quickly put on a green, short-sleeved shirt and went through his humble assortment of weaponry. He grabbed his short bow and quiver, and slung them over his back. He was to recieve a special dagger today, he would use that for gutting food. As for his weapon of choice, he was going to use his favorite weapon; a single Kama with a chain attached. It wasn't a 'native' weapon used here, but it had found a place among a small minority of the immigrants here. Himself included. This would be his last resort weapon though. If he found himself fighting a goblin, or Horjin-forbid, a dragon or Chimera. This weapon wasnt made for hunting specificly, but it would do a decent job if the need arose. With one last glance at his weapons, he went into his small chest and pulled out a greenish-black cloak and hood. He set it to the side and sat back down. He laced up his boots, and put on his finger-less gloves that went up past his elbows. With a single, swift motion, he got up and put on the cloak.He was ready. It was now or never. This would prove if he could truly become a Hunter of the Stag. Edited by: Gman Russell at: 5/6/05 7:56