Tale Of Phynok
Hydla, Although to the common visitor Hydla seems only a capital of commerce and culture, a great cauldron of the different races, all working together to scrap together an honest, busy life in the bustling metropolis. But that view only scratches the surface of the ?great? city of Hydla. In The shadow of the Glorious great tower, there are people who play a game of life and death. Barely crawling through life, suppressed under a glass ceiling of racism and classes. A grave paradox indeed is why does their population continue to grow, even though many are found cold in the alleys. What a great whirlwind that lifts the great to the top, while the paupers it drags down. Alas, that is not the center of this story.
Phynok was born and raised on the streets of Hydla. Phynok?s first memory is purely a culmination of thoughts, and emotions. He can feel a great strain in the air. A warm surface falls away, and then he began to plunge into the unknown. But it was soon lasted. The world seemed to stand still for a moment, and then he was hurdling downwards. As he fell, he could feel a great love ring louder, and clearer than ever before, which then became subdued, and utterly disappeared. What happened after this, Phynok cannot recall. The next thing that comes from his memory is a being, which is containing great concern.
The Crates
Phynok awoke into diminutive world. His back rested against the floor of his reality. He extended his feet and pressed them against one end of his prison, while his arms examined the others. The material seemed coarse, and had many lines and grooves upon its surface. In front of Phynok?s face, the abyss could of expanded on forever, or ended just out of the reach of his minute arms.
A creaking noise reverberated into Phynok?s ears. He suddenly felt cool air sweep down into his stuffy confines. He could sense another now. The vessel was young, but the soul was weary and cautious. A soft, feminine voice emitted from the one hovering over Phynok. ?Iok, bring me the gruel.? She purred.
A deep thundering tone was echoed, ?We can?t feed that thing! We have to worry about ourselves!?
?We will do as I say, Josef! Iok bring me that gruel!? commanded the female.
Yet another voice was now heard, this one as soft as the first, but not as feminine. ?Yes Ma?am.? This voice was graceful and noble.
?It is all right little one.? The female uttered. Then Phynok felt a warm, furry paw brush against his face. Then the female proceeded to spoon the cold mush into the child?s mouth. Phynok devoured what he was given, because a great hunger had grown in him.
?That is all the gruel we have! Who knows when we will be able to get in to line next.? It was the harsh voice again.
?Alright that is enough for now.? She said this to Phynok, obviously heeding the warning of the deep voice.
