Geyesie

[bloodedIrishman]

1-5 are currently within this thread.

Geyesie

Chapter One, A Tavern Incident

A boy sits in a chair, brown eyes fixed to the table in front of him while his hands grip the seat. Sitting across from him is a middle aged Ylian man with a broad chest, thick forearms and a heavy brow. On the table between them rests an empty mug. A female Enkiduai sits in the man’s lap, kissing him, while he gropes her. She pushes him away and stands up, holding out her empty hand. “It’s my money you want girl? I thought it was my pick you were after.” the Ylian says, laughing. “It isn’t free, fifteen trias it’ll cost you” she says matter-of-factly. Shoving a hand in his pocket, he fishes out some coins and throws them to the floor.

She bends down and pockets the trias silently, while the man laughs hoarsely. He yells for a refill of his mug. The barkeep nods as he wipes both hands on a dirty rag. With a jar filled halfway in hand he walks to the table. His face is set in distaste while he refills the mug. “You thrifty innkeep, fill it to the brim!” the man yells. “You’ll stay quiet or I’ll boot you out of my inn…miner” the bartender spats.

The Ylian laughs and swerves his head to watch at the people around him, his eyes glancing at the boy across the table. “What’s wrong boy?” The child shakes his head and keeps his eyes fixed to the table. “When I speak to you boy, you’ll give me some goddamn respect!” the man curses. “I don’t feel well, father” the boy mutters.  The Ylian laughs, and after a minute says, “It’s your blood boy. Your mother’s blood. There’s a weakness in the Xacha people, boy”. “A half-breed like you is poisoned, the weakness contaminates the strength from my blood in you, I know” he says self-satisfied. “Isn’t that right? Half a Ylian is not one at all.”

The boy looks up at his father, his mouth opened as if to speak. His lip quivers and he averts his eyes back down to the table. Mumbling, he says, “I’m...not weak, father.” The man stares at the boy as if he had committed murder.  â€śWhat was that boy, what did you say?” The boy shifts his eyes from the table to his father, and after a moment mutters, “…nothing.” Enraged, the man yells “That’s right boy, nothing! You’re weak! Weak like your Xacha mother!” Spittle flies from his mouth, landing on the boy’s face. The lad keeps his hands gripped on the seat and lets the spit slowly side down his forehead onto his cheeks.

“Pathetic, you half-breed, won’t even stand up for yourself or your filth of a mother”. The man empties his mug and slams it down onto the table. He sways side to side and eyes the women in the tavern. The boy takes one hand away from his seat and presses it against his stomach. He pushes his head against the edge of the table and gasps for air, breathing heavily. The father calls over the fenki for another round. She sits on his lap and embraces him. While he gropes her the boy squirms in his seat. Lurching forward, he etches vomit all over the mug and his father’s lap. Breathing heavily, he leans back in the seat.

The father throws the fenki to the ground and rises off the chair, kicking it behind him. “YOU HALF-BREED FILTH, LOOK WHAT YE’VE DONE”. Sweeping aside the table with ease, the man picks the boy up and shakes him. Those in the surrounding tables keep their eyes down and do not move. The father rips off the boy’s shirt and grips his neck, strangling him. The men in the adjacent seats stay seated and gaze into their mugs. The women cry and cover their mouths. The fenki lying on the ground crawls away from the Ylian, not looking back. The boy, finding it harder to breathe, pleads to his father, spluttering.

“You’ll find no mercy from me boy, I’ve fed ya, and clothed ya, but I should’ve killed you when you came from your mother’s soiled womb.” Finding courage from some innate source, the boy kicks his father in his groin and falls to the ground. Scrambling away in haste, the boy desperately reaches a nearby table where a pair of male Enkiduai sat. Standing up and backing off, the menki’s watch the scene through dark eyes. The boy’s chest is covered bruises and his arms are littered with bloody scabs. The man roars and knocks away all the furniture near him. “COME HERE BOY, COME HERE! I SHOULD HAVE DONE THIS A LONG TIME AGO.”

Sitting on the table next to the boy is a lit candle and a full mug. The Ylian moves closer and closer, his fists clenched. Mug now in hand, the boy throws it at the man. He grabs the candle just in time to feel his father’s hands circle his neck. Remembering the beatings, the drinking, the humiliations, and all he endured, the boy feels cut off from the man. No longer are they father and son. And the bond, in the boy’s eyes, is forever severed. Taking the candle, the boy thrusts it into the man’s left eye, and then the right. While the father screams and falls to his knees, the boy runs as fast he can, away from the man, the mug, the fenki, the people, the tavern, everything. Everything.

[Sarras Volcae]

well... that was weird. and gross. but good job nonetheless! lol

[bloodedIrishman]

Thankyou, this is the introduction to Geyesie, from his childhood and onward. Thats why its written in a third perspective. The sequel will be written in first perspective.

[BLERGHtrue]

Very graphic, but nicely done! A side of Yliakum we don't hear too much about.
Clearly positions the audience about the father, son and setting  
Since you're willing to include uncomfortable elements, I'm quite interested to see what else you have to offer.

[bloodedIrishman]

Chapter Two, The Painter

Geyesie leaned against the wall, his heart pounding. Instead of playing hide-and-seek with armed militia, maybe you should've hid you damn fool. Whatever. I need to hide or I'm going to be up a creek for sure. Listening to the tap-tap of guard's boots on stone, he guessed his pursuers were some thirty strides away. Fool! This wouldn’t have happened if I had taken that carvan to oja when I had the chance! Geyesie’s trembling hands were clenched and sweaty, shaken by the suspense of waiting. He wore brown-dyed light cloth pants and a ragged shirt, while his feet were shoeless. Messy brown hair covered his head, tied in a tail resting on his back. Hearing a seemingly far off yell, he wished it were even farther away.

“You thievin' runt! I’m gonna find ya and when I do I’ll skin your head for the bounty!”

They’re still looking? Damn them. I need to move. And quick too. Geyesie swerved his head left and right, anxiously searching for a way to escape. That path between those houses leads directly into Hydlaa plaza, but those guards will see me in an instant. Frantically he took hold of a dagger stuffed in his belt and crouched down, waiting for the men to come. Geyesie gripped his stomach and felt intense pains wash through him.  Sunova…Not now, not now, this is not the time.

“Look behind that house you three, circle it!”

Geyesie commands and scampering of feet closer this time.. Dropping to his stomach, he crawled several yards on hands and feet. Quickly he stuffed himself behind several barrels in a dark corner, using his left eye to peer outside. Damnit, Damnit, Damnit! Between the empty building’s shrouded corner and the barrels he hid himself, barely breathing. Guardsmen rounded the house to search the area. “Where the hell is he?” The captain pushed one of the men aside and glowered in the face of another, whose face Geyesie could not see. “We have searched in various districts, but they are all clear, sir.”

The leader was of small height, but stocky. His beard covered nearly his entire face, and was fully garbed in leather armor. Slung in a sheath below his right arm was a small sword and across his back a round iron shield. “Search the East quarter again, all of you.” The man waited for all his subordinates to leave, while he eyed the surroundings.  â€śI know you’re there boy. I can smell you. If you give yourself up, you’ll get some leniency. Make me find you, and I’ll kill you where you snivel." Geyesie gripped the dagger more tightly and his mind clouded. The man reminded him of his father, and he felt anger well inside of him.

The man sighed and smiled, perhaps an attempt at a comforting friendliness, and a bad one at that. “Well, well, I’m sorry little guy, I didn’t mean to say things like that, just come on out, would ya? Nothings going to happen to you” The man waited half a minute, and his smiling features abruptly changed. His eyebrows twisted toward the center and his mouth contorted in anger. He drew his sword and began to sneak around the area, looking into each small alley between buildings. Geyesie softly whispered to himself, “He deserves death, he deserves it. I bet others have suffered because of him.”

While the man searched the area, with his sword drawn, Geyesie contemplated killing him. “Yliakum would be a better place for it. No man, woman, nor child would miss him.” When Geyesie’s thoughts drifted toward the man’s likeness to his father, his mind clouded once more and his doubts subsided.  â€śI’m right here dog.”

Geyesie got off his knees and strode out of his hiding place. He moved into a lit area and stood up straight, despite the pain in his stomach. Turning his head toward Geyesie, the man smiled. “Trying to be a man, runt?” Geyesie scrutinized the captain. He was short, yes, but his features looked Ylian. “Are you Ylian?” he asked. Laughing loudly, the man responded “Ylian? Of course. My name is Eronden, boy.”

 â€śWhy are you after me? I only stole some bread.” Eronden smiled broadly, and said “The last one died out too easy”

“…the last one?”

“I enjoy a little fun with my captives before their trials; unfortunately they seem to die before it’s their time.” Eronden’s eyes glimmered red and Geyesie wondered whether this was the trick of a light. “You’ve killed others…tortured them?” Geyesie’s knees began to tremble, and the pounding of his heart grew quickly. He spoke softly, “Oh…yes, it is exquisite. My victim’s call me an evil bastard, but they do not know the beauty of what I do, boy” Eronden stepped toward Geyesie. “It is an art form, truly” He raised his left arm, pointed his sword at Geyesie, and smiled. Geyesie’s knees began to wobble so terribly, he felt he would fall to the ground. His heart was pounding so heavily, he felt his chest would explode. Fear paralyzed him, held him in place as the man with red eyes stalked him.
 
“And your body will be the canvas upon which I paint my masterpiece.”

[bloodedIrishman]

Chapter Three, A Perfect Canvas

Light shone upon Geyesie’s stricken face, revealing the tears swiftly dropping from his eyes.

Gods, I don’t want to die. Oh god. How can I be such a coward?

The man leisurely paced around, his finger brushing the nape of Geyesie’s neck.
“A specimen, in the prime of youth, beautiful….simply beautiful.” He drew his eyes toward the back of Geyesie’s head. “I will take my time with you, oh yes….yes you are special” The man grasped Geyesie’s hair and tugged, laying his neck bare, the pale skin gleaming in the eerie light. Squatting down, Eronden whispered in Geyesie’s ear.

“You’re fear, It’s a sweet touch, you know that boy? You see, what I do, is a form of art.” Speaking almost inaudibly, he began to elaborate, as if to lecture an imaginary class of students, learning his sanguinary art. “To achieve a masterpiece, an artist’s work of perfection…” He motioned toward his sheathed sword, “one must have clean brushes.” He stopped. Caressing Geyesie’s insipid cheek, he continued, “And a clean, flawless canvas to paint upon.”

Eronden smiled, but all Geyesie could do was stare into the man’s eyes. No, not a man. A monster. He was surely a monster. For in his eyes there was a twinkling evil, a passionate love for violence and pain. Would that Geyesie could move at all, he would run endlessly, praying he would never meet Eronden the Painter again.


The sound of running feet were close. ”Damn the dogs.” Soon enough, several soldiers rounded the house and stood at attention before their leader. “Captain Eronden, we found nothing in the districts. We….” The guardsman frowned as he looked upon Geyesie, “Is that him?”

The man smiled “Yes, I found him on my lonesome, Dornin. Are you surprised?” Dornin shook his head and gazed at his captain with an odd look before speaking normally. “What should we do with him?” Eronden gave a sign of dismissal with his finger and motioned toward with his right hand. “I’ll…handle him, you three return to your posts.” The man waited a split-second before responding. “Understood, sir.”

Watching the guards depart into the shadows across the walkway, Eronden finally turned toward his prize. Tears fell onto Geyesie’s cheek more swiftly than before, as the knowledge of a solitary death awaiting him in a torturer’s chamber sank deep in his heart.

“Are you so paralyzed you could not attempt escape, or even return your head to its original position?” The man laughed, “Why so frightened boy, you inevitably caused your own punishment by your actions.” The man counted his fingers, while grinning mockingly, “Thievery and destruction of Octarchal property, my, my” he said loudly. “Simple cause and effect runt, and a half-breed like you isn’t deserving of a trial, anyway, now are you?”

Geyesie startled, righted his head and fell back against his hands, facing the man. Narrowing his eyes, the man looked down on Geyesie “Oh….did I surprise you boy? I knew your father boy, I knew him very well”. The man looked to the left and smiled. “He and I had cut a deal, you see. Whenever refugees passed by the mine, he would escort them to me, by the gate…and the toll, the toll you know, would be high. Sometimes when they didn’t have enough, we would sell them, did you know that boy?” The man turned his head back to Geyesie and laughed. ”There’s an underground trade of slaves, sometimes for work, for sex, and sometimes…parts” The man’s eyes glimmered red - Geyesie knew this was no coincidence.

“The most exquisite part of my hobby, is that it pays boy, it pays very well. And when I’m done with you, I’ll take you apart, piece by piece and sell them." The man grinned. “When I heard your father had bailed on me, because of his blindness, well you can be assured I was distressed."

”I wonder how quickly you’ll die compared to him.” The man knelt down and grasped a small stone lying on the ground. “He begged for his life of course, said we were friends at first, and then he tried to fight back, and finally said he would do anything in exchange for his life." The man took his left hand and pushed away the hair from his eyes. "He said he would trade his son...to save his own life." The man smiled. "I asked him what your name was, and he told me, that his son's name was Geyesie. Before he died he wept openly. I'm not entirely sure if it was for his own life, or perhaps because he betrayed you. Knowing your father boy, it was probably for his own damned soul."

The man went on. “But you, you are special, I’ve never had a father and son in my collection, and this will be a unique work of mine” Geyesie felt his hands go numb, and then his legs. His heart pounded so terribly he wondered how Eronden could not hear it. His mind however, began to clear. Geyesie spoke, quietly at first, but it grew louder with each word spoken.

“You…killed, him?” The man ignored the question. “I have to take you somewhere else, this place is too open” The man grabbed Geyesie by the shoulders and hauled him across the area, looking from side to side. Geyesie mumbled softly, in whispers.

“Killed him, you killed him.” The man reached the end of the lit area and began to drag Geyesie through an alley. “My father, you killed my father.”

Geyesie felt a crippling fear, but a fear that became had become duller with each word the man had spoken. He had known evil men since the day he could reason. His father was evil, and deserved death, but not by another man’s hand. Geyesie had always thought that one day he would be the one to reconcile his father.

Geyesie drifted by memories that swam through his distraught mind. He had always been able to withstand his enemies, from other urchins, thugs who wanted to control him, to his father. But now…now, he was helpless.

They entered into a green grassy lawn, that encompassed the currently closed medical center and Laanx Temple. A grotesque construction of fire-colored iron and sweeping buttresses that flew into the sky in odd shapes and combinations, it was a terrifying sight in the dead of night.

[bloodedIrishman]

Chapter Four, Men’s Smiles Hide Daggers

Geyesie’s body was dragged along without his control as he lifted his head to peer around.

Abruptly, Eronden threw Geyesie aside and sat in front of him, speaking with a menacing tongue. “Stay there, and don’t say a word, or I’ll give you a more agonizing death than you could imagine in your darkest nightmares.” He did not wait for a sign of understanding, as if he knew Geyesie would obey, and turned the other direction. Geyesie looked to his left and saw a man sprinting across the field. The sound of feet padding the soft ground came closer and closer. Eronden bellowed, “Who goes there?” as the figure ran into a patch of lighted grass. Geyesie gasped, it was Dornin, the guardsmen who had reported to the man earlier. What…what is he doing?

Dornin stopped running and slowly began to edge forward, his eyes taking in the scene. “What in the name of Dakkru are you doing Dornin, I told you go to your post.” He  wore a complete uniform of leather armor, and strapped to his waist was a short sword, sheathed under his left arm. Tucked into his belt under his right arm was a dagger. The man waited several seconds before moving forward, “Dog, I told you to go to your post…or, do you need me to teach you what an order means?” Dornin responded hastily, nearly stuttering. “Sir I heard your order, but I thought it uncommon for the boy to be taken alone…with you.”

“I’m your commanding officer, soldier.”

Eronden’s frown turned into a small smile, “Disobeying an order is fifteen lashes, or more.” Dornin pointed his finger to the city. “Sir, the holding cells are on the other side of the city. You are seemingly taking this prisoner to Laanx temple…I do not understand. Why?” Geyesie nudged his head away from the two men and thought he saw a flash of movement in the shadows.

The man began to walk toward Dornin. “Dornin, my subordinate, do you question my authority?” Dornin stood straight and regulated his stance to attention, “Sir, I believe it to be unusual for you to be taking prisoners on your own, these past months. They….do not return with you.” His eyebrows furrowed and he looked to be concentrating, “I am not attempting to undermine your authority, but I worry over what is going on. Truly, sir” The man walked in front of Dornin and put his hand on his shoulder.

“Yes soldier, you have always been loyal. I can see that.” The man patted Dornin on the back and grinned, pointing to Geyesie. “You wonder what I’m doing with the prisoners. You see, Dornin, you of course were right to be suspicious. I cannot commend you on your cleverness, as honestly the whole lot of you ought to have suspected long ago.” The man quietly drew Dornin’s dagger from his belt, and twirled in his hand. Geyesie began to cry, softly. He knew what was coming but he was too afraid, too frozen with fright to act. He saw this man’s life ending as he sat on the ground. “I always liked you Dornin, and you do have a well-built body. Yes, I think you will pay well. I really cannot chance an investigation. I’m so sorry Dornin.”

The soldier turned his head, appearing confused. “I don’t understand, sir.” The man smiled softly, “Oh, it's nothing.” In a smooth flow of motion, the man placed his foot behind Dornin’s right ankle, centered his right hand behind the small of his back and pushed. Dornin tripped and fell on the ground with a grunt, face first. The man grasped the dagger by its hilt and drove it into Dornin’s back with force.

Dornin’s throat gargled. He began to writhe in agony. “A little quieter please, Dornin, the transition is only enjoyable for me if I am not distracted with unnecessary noise.” After several minutes, the sounds of a man in the throes of death fell utterly silent, disappearing in the same moment as the violent spasms.

Geyesie’s tears came even faster. He had never seen a decent man die, and today it struck him deeply. If the world would let men as evil as this thrive, how could this life ever contain true happiness?

[Akkaido Kivikar]

Read it as requested. A little vertical, but then, forum writings tend to get that way.

Splitting quotation marks with "***", X says <in this manner>, "*************" is one good way of expanding a story. Being more descriptive is another way of doing this... You assume that the reader knows what Laanx Temple looks like, what the tavern is like and where it is... be more descriptive in your scenes. Reading it, I have no idea where in or around Laanx Temple the guard was murdered, so describe that....

Other than that, the story is interesting, I look forward to more.

[bloodedIrishman]

Chapter Five, Justice


Eronden removed the dagger from Dornin’s back and wiped it on the grass. He tucked it into his belt and sat down, looking deep in thought. Geyesie turned over and eyed the corpse. Dornin’s face was on its side, his left eye half open and his right completely closed. His mouth was permanently etched in a lopsided grimace, and his nose appeared broken. Blood seeped from the wound in his back onto the grass, pooling underneath him. Little by little, the smell of blood and death mixed together arose from the area, filling Geyesie’s nostrils. Geyesie felt the feeling in his body return, little by little. And Dornin stared at Geyesie through those lifeless eyes, taunting him, as if he were calling him a coward.

The man awoke, and eyed Geyesie silently. “This has turned into an ordeal boy. You’ve caused me much pain; I had not planned to kill Dornin. This will cause an investigation, one that I cannot afford.”

“Ah….Ah, I know. It grieves me, but I cannot paint this night.”
The man absentmindedly twirled Dornin’s dagger in his hand. “No, I did not kill Dornin boy, you did. Ah, yes, you see what happened, it was tragic. A young ruffian, running from the law. Dornin reached out to you, and you accepted it. Stabbed him in the back, didn’t you?”

You sunovabitch. Godamnit! Why are you such a godamn coward? Move. Move!

The man took hold of the dagger once more, and drove it back into Dornin’s back. “Well, that was easily accommodated.” “Ah, yes. Where was I? But Dornin did not die before he swung around, drew his sword and slew you, stabbed you in the chest, didn’t he?” The man drew his sword and swung it in the air as if it were a toy. He giggled.

Geyesie, weakened as he was, managed to gather what strength he had, and pulled himself of his feet and stood up, wobbling. Out of the corner of his eye, he once more saw flashes of movement in the shadows across the field. The man was about twelve paces from him, and walking unhurriedly toward Geyesie. “You don’t have the strength to run boy. You don’t have the courage to withstand me. Nor do you have the ability. You’re time has come, though I regret this is how it will end.” The man sighed and rolled his eyes, “This night was a waste, unfortunately; I cannot practice my art, and you are such a fine canvas. It is so very regrettable.”

He raised his sword several inches and increased his pace. Geyesie heard a soft whoosh, and the noise of a blade embedding itself in flesh. The man staggered, fell to a knee and cursed. Geyesie stepped back a few paces and looked about wildly. Swerving his head to the left, he saw a figure running, no, almost flying through the field, the face hidden by shadows.

Geyesie croaked. “Who…Who are you?” Swiveling, the man struggled to his feet. With his right hand he drew out the knife from his back and screamed. The figure sprinted quickly towards them. Geyesie saw a hand rise, and the glint of metal speed through the air, once more making a whooshing noise.

The knife connected with the man’s ear and sliced it in half.

“GODS, CURSE YOU COWARD”

Geyesie wavered and righted himself with some effort. He attempted to yell, but all that came up was a whisper. An intense need to see Eronden suffer overwhelmed him. “Kill him, kill him, kill him now, that’s all I want, just kill him” The figure was lighted, and revealed. It was a woman, though by no means appearing feminine. Her hair was tied in knots, while her face appeared scarred. Her body was clothed in tight fitting and patched brown leather. Strapped across her back was a wooden staff, and across her waist various knives. She wore leather boots which appeared to rise halfway to her knees. Geyesie could not discern her race, but he assumed it to be Ylian or Xacha by her shape. The man gripped his sword and staggered towards the woman. “I’ll kill you, I swear to Laanx I’ll kill you.” The woman drew the staff and rushed forward. Geyesie fumbled clumsily for his dagger and could not find it.

The woman reached the man in seconds and swung her staff in an arc. The man raised his sword only in time to block the blow, but fell back on his right elbow. He grunted, cursed and charged forward, screaming even more insults. She gripped the staff by the haft and thrust it forward, hitting the man in the stomach. He fell on his back with a loud thud, rasping for air. His sword fell out of his hand during the impact and ended up next to the woman’s feet.

He began to cry loudly, his sobs echoing off the buildings, “I don’t want to die…no, not yet, no I haven’t done enough. All my work…gone, oh please, don’t kill me, please.” The woman bent down and picked up the sword. She shoved her staff into the ground, letting it sit.

Looking as pitiful as possible, Eronden crawled toward her feet, begging, scraping for mercy. “Please, please. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry. Won’t you forgive me? Won’t you? You have to! Please. Oh god, oh god, please, no, no, no, please, please…don’t kill me, I’m honestly, truly, honestly, I’m so sorry.”

Geyesie, with wide eyes, looked at the women in amazement. He had never seen a female ever display such power, usually a characteristic of masculinity. The woman grasped the sword with her right hand, and gripped it with her left. She raised it to the level of her eyes and looked down on the man.

“Wickedness shall no longer pervade this world. Evil will not infect it, corrupt it, with it’s web of deceit and sorrow. Malevolence will take no role. The evil committed shall be undone by the blood of it’s minions. You have been judged, and your malice revealed. Your sentence has been given. For your misdeeds, for your injustice, for your evil actions, I condemn you as guilty. By my righteous mortal hand you will no longer blight the earth upon which I stand.”

The woman raised her sword high and swung it down, cutting through the man’s upraised arms and into his throat.

All the meanwhile Geyesie watched this woman, awe-struck. Her words of vengeance struck a sweet tune, ringing true.

"W-w-what is your name?"

The woman gazed at Geyesie for a moment. "I am known as Unira. Nice to meet you."

[bloodedIrishman]

I am currently looking for another person to collaborate on the storyline. Send me a PM.