Well, I decided it's time to give account of what Phinehas has been up to while he's been gone. My plan is to put in short stories of some of his different adventures in this thread, as I find time to write them. There will also be one longer story in its own thread. Bear with me, as I'm a bit rusty at writing. I haven't written much since last time I wrote on these boards, somewhere around a year ago.
A Lesson LearnedRathe grinned at the man across from him. The Kran, a huge specimen with a sword to match his stature and an ego twice as big, grinned back. It was obvious that the Kran figured this would be over quickly, and he was right. Rathe closed the distance between them at a run, his sword held high over his right shoulder. As he came up to the Kran, he swung down at its legs, but abruptly stopped, knelt, and leaned left, just in time for the Kran's sword to come sweeping over his head in a block that would have shattered both weapons. Taking the opportunity he'd created for himself, Rathe flung himself upwards, driving the hilt of his sword up to collide with the Kran's massive chin. The Kran crumpled, the ground shaking with the force of his fall.
Rathe turned, breathing hard, to grin at the awestruck crowd surrounding him. For a second his grin faltered as he saw the shock and anger on their faces at seeing their champion beaten. His grin returned, but brought along with it a certain jut to the chin, and a tighter grip on his sword. Silence reigned as the villagers tried to decide whether they were angry or pleased, but after what seemed an age, a cheer rose up, moving like wildfire through the crowd.
Rathe's grip relaxed and his grin became natural once again as he realized that the villagers had decided to accept his prowess with good humor. He had had to fight his way out of angry crowds before, and had no desire to do so again. Not all the villages he visited had been pleased to see him defeat one after another of their young men so easily. He accepted the risk, it was part of earning one's money by fighting.
As he waited for another challenge to present itself, he took a moment to dwell on who he was, what he had become. He liked who he was, there was no question about that. After all, he thought, who wouldn't want to be a good-looking, young Enkidukai with the best fighting skills to be found in the whole of the fifth level. It was even possible, he thought, that he was the best in all of Yliakum, or at least several of the levels. He was, after all, undefeated. At least, he thought, in his adult life.
Rathe had grown up in the city. His earliest memories were life on the street. He had no idea who his parents were, and didn't really care. Life as a child had been spent trying to scrape together an existence by petty thievery and running errands where necessary. It didn't take him long to be picked up by a gang of hooligans, and from that point on he began to fight. All he knew at first was to beat up on others, or get beaten up in turn by a rival gang if he was foolish enough to venture out alone. It wasn't until he was thirteen that he happened to witness a man in an alleyway fight off three would-be attackers. He immediately realized that that was what he wanted, to be stronger and better than others. It was all he lived for, and he was good at it.
By the time he turned nineteen he'd gotten bored in the city, for it was a small city, and the flow of challengers began to dwindle as his fame grew. Eventually he left, and began his present nomadic life of travelling from village to village, fighting any challengers for money. His unchecked success had not gone to his head, or so he thought. He was simply good and knew it.
His thoughts were interrupted by a cackle of laughter coming from the crowd around him. He looked up to see his next challenger. The frail figure before him, wrapped in a brown cloak with a hood, didn't even come up to his shoulders. He couldn't see the man's face, but it was obvious by the cane that he leaned on heavily and his shuffling gait that he was not in the best of health. Rathe smiled not unkindly at the stranger and said, “You must have misunderstood, Friend. This is a combat challenge, and not for the weak of body. Stand back and let the other challengers come.”
The man, who had been shuffling towards him, stopped at these words. “Perhaps you should not judge so quickly,” he said in a rasping voice. “I am more than ready to see who here is the most dangerous.”
Rathe frowned. A joke is a joke, but this had gone far enough. “Don't insult me, old man. Leave while you still can. It would take nothing to kill you.”
The figure raised his hands, letting the cloak drop from him. Suddenly, the area was bathed in a bright, purple light. “Do your best, then,” cried the man!
Rathe raised a hand to shade his eyes, and get a look at his opponent. He saw a small, hunched Lemur, dressed in purple robes and leaning on a cane. The light appeared to be emanating from the small man, although he himself looked rather pathetic. The man turned to him and raised his hand, a look of mixed amusement and anger on his face. To his horror, Rathe felt his sword grow hot, burning through the leather grip on his hilt, forcing him to drop it. He heard the man's voice again, this time it seemed to be in his head, “You know, I never did have much patience for stupid, arrogant fools like yourself.”
By this time, the villagers had managed to get over the shock of what was happening, and a few of the braver ones began to start towards this strange man who seemed to be threatening their new hero. They froze in their tracks, however, when the little Lemur raised his cane towards them, a large ball of fire forming on the end of it. They quickly decided that Rathe was more than capable of handling himself, and stepped back to watch helplessly and see what would happen.
To their surprise, Rathe did nothing. They were unaware that he was trying his hardest, but could not for the life of him seem to move his limbs. The little Lemur began to walk towards him, closer and closer. He stopped only when he was face to face with Rathe, and leant towards him. “My name is Phinehas Kreal,” he whispered, “and you have the honor of being the recipient of a piece of wisdom that I wish to bestow upon you. 'There is always someone better.' Remember that, and you will go far. Forget it, and you may not survive to hear it repeated.”
Having said this, Phinehas released Rathe to fall to the ground, shaken and trembling. Without a backward glance he walked off, contemplating what he'd just done. He smiled to himself at the knowledge that after a good feast and plenty of ale, the whole village would remember the thing in a different light. It wouldn't take long for the stories to be spun about how the heroic Rathe defeated and scared off a great and evil sorceror. But Rathe wouldn't forget, no he would never forget...
Comments and criticisms of all sorts welcome. Comments and criticisms on writing style and technique especially appreciated, but only if you actually know what you're talking about. (Yes, Under, this means you.
)
