[Originally started over a year ago and edited slightly last week]
Scraps of memories, playing in the sun with fellow kits, a pretty fenki walking towards him, an unusual smell drifting in through a window, drinking with a brother/cousin/friend? scattered feelings and ideas that drift through his mind like smoke on a still winters day
THE EVENT OCCURS [age early 20's]
Twelve cycles or so ago the 25th day of Azhord a day to remember, a day he cannot forget....
He forced open his eyes and yawned, lifted a hand and tried to rub the sleep from them, his arms were sore as if he'd just had a work out on the practice field with heavy claymores then as he sat up there was a sudden sharp pain in his side just below the ribs that made him gasp and clutch at his side.
As the pain subsided he took his hand away from the area damp with blood, and still unable to see clearly he struggled to stand. Swaying slightly he could just make out the shape of the water trough through the blur and lurched towards it stumbling over unseen objects. As he reached the fountain one hand still held something so he put it on the edge, then plunged his head deep into the icy cold water and rubbed at his eyes, rising up out of the water he stayed bent over the trough letting the water stream off the tawny fur.
As the water stilled a reflection of his face appeared, his hand reached up and he winced as he traced a strange gash with burnt edges across his forehead, still weeping a little blood. He straighten up and turned around to a scene of carnage, mutilated bodies everywhere, Enkidukai lay on Klyros, Hammerwielder on Demorian every race represented, he sagged back against the stone his hand catching the blood soaked sword he had left on the side and he finally noticed the eerie silence, the only sound was the water dripping from his fur, none of the normal sounds of the aftermath of battle, no moans and groans nor the shouting of healers as they try to save the injured.
After a while he pulled himself upright and a familiar habit made him clean the sword, as he did so he noticed the initials HK intertwined etched into the blade next to a stylised lightning bolt, he slid the sword back into its scabbard noting a second empty scabbard on his belt and began to check his wounds taking the pack off his shoulder he took out a long bandage and after wiping the area clean he awkwardly wrapped the bandage around his midriff covering the deep sword cut, once he finished he tipped the rest of the pack on the ground and sorted though the contents laying them out in front of him.
A small wooden box containing a compact sewing kit, a leather pouch containing field dressings, bandages, strange ointments and herbs, he smiles as he opens a slim hide bound book entitled “The Mystique of War” to find To my beloved Hokinon inscribed in a feminine hand inside the front cover the smile slowly turns to a frown as he wonders
“who in the DR is Hokinon?” he mumbles to himself
before placing it down next to the others. Wincing as he reaches for a small lidded pan with a wooden spoon lifting the lid to find a tin of tea leaves, a few blocks of dried meat and dried fruit wrapped in large leaves, an oiled canvas wash bag with that name on it again Hokinon Korere, and an oil stone with a leather strop and lastly a hand full of apples that have rolled across the ground.
As he goes to line them up he absentmindedly throws first one up followed by another until all of them are up in the air moving in a complicated pattern as he smoothly juggles, as the apples fly through the air faster and faster, he flicks one high in the air and catches the others one by one lining them up in front of him before it reaches it's apex, and watching it descend, his hand moves in a blur then stops and waits as the apple now with a knife embedded in it lands in his palm.
After peeling and eating the apple he packs everything away again and leans the pack against the trough, then painfully rising to his feet he starts to move through the carnage looking at the bodies and trying to recall what had happened.
Spotting a quarterstaff he picks it up to lean on and looks at his surroundings, he appears to be standing in a large village square with four streets leading in and the circular water trough and fountain in the middle, there are some broken wooden stalls around the outside and of course bodies everywhere. Slowly working his way through the carnage he stoops to turn a body here and there, a Silverweave short sword laying apart from the nearest carcase catches his eye and he picks it up to find the inscription matches the one in his scabbard, wiping it off he sheathes it, the weight familiar on his hip.
Looking over the square, something appears wrong and after a moment he realises there are no battle lines it looks like a free for all, everyone fighting with no sides.
“hmm what on earth would make them all kill each other?”
he ponders as he starts to examine the wounds on the nearest bodies which mostly look like sword and dagger cuts with the occasional magic arrow, but none seem to match the one on his forehead. Looking up at the Crystal he notices it begin to darken and makes his way back to the trough to collect the pack seeing for the first time the village sign atop the fountain Caarnsbryn glancing back at the Crystal
“hmm Third Level I believe or high in the Fourth”
he mutters to himself and turns in a slow circle and spotting the sign of an Enkidukai tavern he grabs the pack and heads over towards it.
Awkwardly and with a fair bit of pain he pulls two Demorians that seem to have been biting each other, from the doorway and enters the Tooth 'n' Claw
“Hello” he calls “Hello anyone here?”
silence answers him so he gingerly moves to the bar, leans the quarterstaff against it and slips through the open hatch to help himself to a Demorian brandy and sagging against the counter, sipping slowly he spots the register and picking it up idly turns to the last entry, but his eyes lock onto the third from last H. Korere, clan Kore in room Two. Looking around he spies the room keys and steps over to lift room Two's key off it's hook, tossing it lightly in his free paw while still sipping the brandy, he frowns deep in thought as he empties the glass, placing it on the counter behind him then starts walking towards the back of the inn. Pausing he turns and fishes out a coin tossing it into a bowl under the counter before continuing to the back door and down the corridor, after climbing the stairs he stops before room Two, he raises his paw to knock then drops his paw and unlocking the door lets himself inside.
A faint smell of familiar perfume causes his heart to race but the room is empty, the bed is made and no other sign of occupation is evident, locking the door behind him he drops the pack by the bed and collapses onto its soft mattress, asleep before his head hits the pillows.
More scraps of memories, a mountain valley full of early morning mist, soaring on a pterosaur, a lake with Nolthir children splashing and playing.
Dawn breaks and the light steams in the window to land on his face, groaning lightly he reaches out with a paw and pats the other side of the bed, the scent of mountain honeyrose still lingering in his nose
“hmm where are you ...?” he says drowsily
as a name and a fenki's image vanish from his mind almost before they appear, stiffly sitting up he levers himself to his feet and steps to the window, the square, silent and still the bodies laying as the previous night. After performing his ablutions he makes his way down to the kitchen, but the stench of old food drives him back out into the common room where he rummages in his pack and cuts off a slice of dried meat. Leaving the tavern he walks around the square and sees a sign pointing to the local sink hole and heads off towards it.
As he rounds a bend he hears the first live sound since he awoke, a Rivnak calling for food, turning towards the sound he spies it down a side street hitched to a cart and tied securely to a rail outside a livery yard. Smiling lightly for the first time he makes his way towards the animal, jumping back as the hungry creature snaps at him, going into the stables he quickly returns with a bag of food that he dumps on the ground by the Rivnak's head, as it dives for the food he steps to the side gently stroking it's neck while making soft “cooing” noises. When the animal has eaten it's fill he unties it from the rail and leads it back to the square where he starts dragging bodies onto the cart before carrying them to the sink hole stripping them of weapons and valuables and heaving them in for disposal.
Several cartloads later he stops for a rest and leaning against the fountain takes a quick drink of water before surveying his mornings work,
“hmm, going to take me a couple of days at this rate”
he mutters, just then the faint sound of a dwarven marching song reaches his ears and he snaps into a ready position paws hovering over his weapons as a party of Stonebreakers enters the square, with their axes stowed, relaxing he calls out
“Hail rockbrothers!”
and the song slowly peters out as they see the carnage in front of them, hands grabbing at Axe handles, the small people approach the Enkidukai cautiously,
“Hail Clan kin” the apparent leader calls out “What goes here?”
the Enkidukai recounts all that he remembers from the previous day, finishing with
“...so I decided to clear the bodies away before the smell gets too great” then adds “and I am collecting all the valuables from the bodies as I do so”
he looks at the 15 or so dwarves in front of him spotting that one bears the sigil of the Bankers Guild, pointing to him he says
“you there, can you hold the valuables for the village in case anyone claims them?”
the dwarven banker replies “Aye laddie that I can”
the leader adds “we'll help you finish clearin' but we ought to take sumting for our trouble” several small heads nod in agreement
“then we keep 'alf for the rels and split the rest betw'n us, you've done 'alf t'work already so you take half ov'n that”
the leader holds out a hand “Dolgon of Dolgon's Miners, deal?”
“hmm I suppose from what I have found my name must be... Hokinon Korere of clan Kore” and extending his paw firmly clasps Dolgons hand “deal!”
Hokinon and the dwarves quickly clear the rest of the square and reckon up the valuables splitting it evenly, ensconced in the tavern once more, Sharn the banker tallies all the funds into his guild account and gives a scrip with a large number on it to Hokinon
“'ere any member of the Bankers Guild is 'onor bounded to 'cept tis”
Hokinon blinks at the amount of money and takes the scrip
“Thanks, but what brought you to this village anyway?” he asks as he tucks it securely away.
“arrr well r mines be workd out so we's just lookin' for newuns” Dolgon says and as he looks around the empty village adds “but p'haps we's'll stay 'ere, if no one claims it”
Hokinon nods and asks “Oh do you know of clan Kore? or perhaps even this name?” all the dwarves shake their heads to a chorus of “noes... nah... nope. not a ting”
“ahh well I shall just have to go and seek for myself.
Dolgon winks “arr but no tonight, we 'ave some celebratin to do in memry of those who dieded” and jumps behind the bar “drinks are on me” he calls and almost gets swamped in the rush, Hokinon takes an ale and sips slowly as the dwarves gradually become the worse for wear.
Just as day breaks Hokinon collects his pack and stepping carefully between the sleeping dwarves, slips out of the tavern. Putting the pack on his back he looks around the village square, scene of all that devastation. Sighing softly knowing he is missing someone but not who he takes the nearest road out of the village sets off in search of his missing life.
edit: changed years to cycles
edit: 1 minute later to spell cycles correctly
