Vujix
Citizen
I Draft
The land of Valruc stretched from coast to coast, a huge landmass full of life in the middle of the Great Ocean. The ocean was full of terror, with many ships never returning. Storms thundered across the sky there, and giant sea creatures pulled people down to never be seen again. Valruc was a haven compared to all other places, crops grew, storms wavered, and great kingdoms rose from the ground below.
There weren’t many other places in the world, to be fair, but beyond the Great Ocean was Waleur, a barren desert full of dangerous animals and plants. And beyond that was the Feiuq, a rainforest full of poisonous fruits and acid rains.
Valruc was a home for all, including the Ser, which were shunned in all other lands. The Ser were snake-like creatures, standing 6’ feet tall and coming in all breeds, from mambas to garters, these creatures would roam the land.
Many other odd creatures were here, for example, the Daoveian. The Daoveian are feathered creatures with beaks, they cannot fly, but have a natural ability to move easily as if they were the wind.
These six kingdoms, Rodig; home of the humans, Orsinan; realm of the Orcs, Valvire; land of the elves, Zeses; province of the Ser, Doraq; domain of the Dwarves, and lastly Fermis; kingdom of the Daoveian.
The kingdoms divided the land equally, as to not incite a war. It was Harq, the great King of Men, who suggested it. Each ruler of the kingdoms met up once a year, in Valengrad, the temple of all in the center of Valruc. This building was made of solid granite, a rare material in Valruc, riches were held there and anyone who stole from it got a horrible curse cast upon them by the gods.
It is often said that death is better than this curse, and the people who carry the curse never talk again, they are an empty husk devoid of life. Ancient text states that once a being takes from Valengrad, they have twenty-four hours to return what was taken. If not, the body will start to shrivel, they will lose taste and smell, and within five days, the being will be a hairless, ugly, and sad being.
All the happy memories and thoughts they might have once had will disappear. There is no cure for the curse, and many victims are often jailed in a dark room under Valengrad. They say if you put your ear to the cold floor, you might be able to hear their whispers. This curse brought order, this made thievery impossible, so to speak, no one had stolen a single atom worth of Valengrad’s treasures in over five hundred years.
However, just outside Sameiz, the Zeses capital, in a small town called Zamir, a lonely python looking Ser collapsed onto the ground. The Ser, whose name was Za’Zei, was holding a basket full of Ser artifacts. These items, mostly made of solid gold, showed hundreds of snakes on each. There were jewels, pots, books, cups, pieces of ancient clothing, anything you could imagine was in that basket.
Za’Zei was notably near Valengrad twenty-four hours before he collapsed. He landed on the soft dirt in the small trading village that was Zamir. Once on the ground, his scales lost their color.
The other Ser who were trading in the square in which he collapsed stopped and stared. Mumbles are murmurs swept across the plaza. No one knew what to do, a handful of Ser slithered up to the Ser and poked at him. Sticks, rocks, and claws jabbed at him, but nothing triggered a reaction. At the moment, a fat old farmer came up to Za’Zei.
“What's this then? Looks kinda' sick.” He proclaimed. “Is it like a virus?” He mumbled. Another Ser spoke up.
“It's not a virus, Aizi you old fool! It's a curse! We gotta get him to Sameiz!”
Za’Zei laid there for over one hour while being inspected before the old farmer took the short walk to Sameiz and alerted the officials. The officials ignored him for the longest time before agreeing, thinking the old man was crazy. However, within the next hour, Za’Zei was in the Ser King’s Palace.
The palace was a grand building, made of sandstone it seemed to touch the sky with three massive pillars with engraved writing in them. They depicted Ser, dragons, humans, orcs, dwarves and Daoveian. The Daoveian were battling with the Ser in a pool of blood.
They were natural enemies, birds and snakes. The smaller Daoveian were getting killed, and the larger were picking up the Ser and dropping them from the air. The art showed the Ser winning, as it was a Ser palace, after all. Guards lined the hall leading to the throne. The Ser king, Saziq, sat on the throne, his tail being curled up on it. Saziq was a 6’5 tall black python, with gold jewels, silver clothing, and painted claws. He looked more than a Ser, he looked as if he were a god himself.
Of course, he was not a god. The gods were a Human, a Dwarf, an Elf, a Daoveian, an Orc, and a Ser, one for each race. The Ser god was a black mamba, that was common knowledge, not a python. However, it was also common knowledge that Saziq wanted to be a god.
“What is this, why do you bring some drunken idiot here?” He roared upon seeing the crumpled and graying form of Za’Zei. At this point, Za’Zei was unable to make a coherent speech.
“He’s not drunk, we do not know what he is, your highness.” The guards hissed back, slightly worried for their own safety.
Once the guards finished speaking, the old farmer, Aizi, spoke up, “He was on his way here, with these!” He exclaimed, holding up all the jewels and treasures. The King glared greedily at the sight of the treasures. “Artifacts from Valengrad!” The entire room paused at this claim.
“Nonsense. No curse has been bestowed upon since the ancient times.” The King said, however he was slightly unsure with his words. “It is not possible.” He mumbled.
At this, a guard spoke. “I don’t know, your highness, it looks like the curse.”
He slithered over to the lump that was Za’Zei and waved his hand in front of his eyes. Nothing happened. The room paused again, with not a slight noise.
“You!” The King roared at the farmer. “What was he like when he got to your village?” He said, pointing his painted claw at the man.
“I dunno, I mean, he didn’t say anythin’.” Aizi spoke with terror in his eye, not wanting to upset the king. Aizi did not wish to be dinner for the king's “pets.”
“I mean his color! What color was he, you imbecile?” The King thundered with an almighty roar of fury.
“Black! Black your kingliness!” Aizi yelped. “He was black, then he fell on the ground. His scales turned grey. Dunno why.” He paused, thinking about what to say next. “What's this curse yall talkin’ bout?” He decided foolishly.
“SHUT UP!” The king roared to Aizi. “Someone take this disgrace to the cellars. He can’t tell anyone. He might have more information, or else I would kill him right here.” The king yelled with a wave of his hand. At once, two guards slithered to Aizi and started to drag him away.
“Wait!” Aizi yelled. “I have a family! A job! A life!” However the king said nothing, he just waved his hand once more and Aizi was knocked out with a thud.
“So, a Ser stole from Valengrad.” The king grumbled with a flare of hatred. “ This could mean war if the filthy Rodig found out. Take him to Valengrad, in the basement. Use this key.” He’d chuck a long, silver and rusted key to a hognose looking Ser.
He’d pause, expecting them to leave, but they didn’t, afraid that he didn’t wish it at this moment. No one wanted to end up like Aizi. “Go! Put him in the ancient cellar!” He’d say with a chest full of anger. He turned to another group of guards. “Go to Zamir, burn the place to the ground. Leave no witnesses. No one must know. If anyone asks, Zamir was sadly attacked by humans.” And with that, Sasiq slithered away into another chamber in the castle. The jewels sat in the bag on the cold, hard floor of the palace. The king smiled.
Over the next week, the news spread quickly. Zamir had been attacked by men, the king had said himself! Of course, all humans denied this bold statement, saying it was untrue and you couldn’t trust the Ser. However, men were known for doing whatever they wanted, so it was not unbelievable.
In the human capital of Haylein, there was a buzz. Were the rumors true? Were the Ser going to attack? Was it true that for the first time in five-hundred years, you could hear the whispers from underneath the floor of Valengrad?
Many go to Valengrad to worship, and a lot of people put their ear to the hard floor still, even if it has been five-hundred years. It has been quiet for the longest time, but now you could hear a soft moan. The moan of Za’Zei, a mumble, a mumble that makes no sense.
Za’Zei didn’t need to eat, sleep, or drink. He needed nothing. He just had his pain. Za’Zei had a family, and that family never saw him again. Mumbles, mumbles. Why did Za’Zei go to Valengrad, he's always wanted to go, but why now?
They wondered for days, but wondering didn’t bring their little boy back. Their little boy was gone. Gone, missing, “He wasn’t stupid!” The family exclaimed to all who listen. Za’Zei mumbled and mumbled, his family cried and cried, and the king smiled and smiled. “Riches.” He hissed, holding the treasures.
In Zamir, there was a stench of burning and death. Flames exploded over the sky, making a destructive yet beautiful scene. The houses were devoid of life, screams echoed through the town, just to be cut short with loud swishes and thuds of an axe or sword.
On the other side of Valruc, however, one girl’s journey was just beginning, Nelda, a fourteen year old girl with deep brown hair and an olive complexion was just waking up. Walking over to her dresser, she dressed into a faded green cloak. Slowly, all the others rose. They all bore the same sunken, depressed and faded smiles, and they all shared a similar story. That story was the story of the orphans.
The majority of the orphans had no parents, either dead or being too poor to raise them. The remainder were just left on the doorstep, with no knowledge. Nelda was left on the doorstep, but unlike all the other “doorstepers,” there was no note with here. No “I love you,” no “I’m sorry I have to do this,” and no “I will look for you when you are older.” Nelda was a human girl, living in Haylein capital of Rodig. The orphanage, called “Haylein’s Gentle Home” was anything but gentle.
Waking up at six o’clock sharp, you were to get dressed (With one of the three outfits you were allowed to own) and hurry down to breakfast in the crammed dining hall. With over two hundred orphans there and only around sixty five seats, it was two to a seat, maybe more. Nelda was never lucky enough to get her own seat. The meals, always consisting of grainy yet slimy oatmeal for breakfast, a stale sandwich with burnt ham from the butcher for lunch, and an apple and a single thin slice of bread with cheese for dinner.
Water was given at breakfast, a single canister per person. Oftenly, by the end of the day, the children would be thirsty and hungry. Hungry, always hungry. There was never enough to eat. Nelda had only one friend, and his name was Edgar. Neither Nelda nor Edgar knew their last names, only their first. Edgar was enthusiastic, excited, and always on the move. On the other hand, Nelda ws shy, aloof, and formal.
The “Mistress” of the orphanage was an elderly woman named Mrs. Wilburg. However, most call her “The Warden.” The orphans never attended school, even though the smallest of schools could fit them all. Edgar and Nelda were troublemakers, in Mrs. Wilburg’s eyes, however, they considered themselves “Leaders of the Resistance.”
To be fair, the resistance made up the majority of the orphans, however no one else did anything. Mainly, it was gripping under your breath while eating stale bread and doing back-breaking labor. Whenever someone was caught, it would result in no food for at least a day, extra chores, and a beating. Even the simplest mumble could make you sore for weeks.
Edgar and Nelda never got away with anything, and over their lifetime they got hundreds of punishments. However, despite that, they never lost hope. They hope, no, they know that their parents would come for them any day now.
But deep down in their hearts, they knew it was a lie. A sick joke Mrs. Wilburg sometimes made was when she mimicked the children talking about getting adopted. No one had been adopted in over three years, mainly because Mrs. Wilburg made the application over one hundred pages long with unanswerable questions.
The state always turned a blind eye and encouraged parents to surrender their children to her if they couldn’t take care of them. Kids kept coming, but no kids would leave, at least not until they turned eighteen. All children who leave end up becoming homeless criminals. To put it simply, if you entered the orphanage, your life was already over.
They all shared a single room on the top floor of the three-story brick building. The walls were quite sturdy and the door always was locked. The only time kids were to go outdoors was to do the yardwork and tend to the garden.
Though there was a garden, only Mrs. Wilburg got to eat any of its plantings. The ones she did not eat she sold. She made lots of money, mainly from blind adults who thought she was nice. Instead of using the money for the children, like she was supposed too, she would by herself jewels, furniture, spices, and silk all for herself.
Other than her, there were two other staff members. Ms. Carreen. She was gorgeous, and elegant, but looks aren’t everything. Inside, she was meaner than a witch. Not as evil as Mrs. Wilburg, however.
The only other ‘employee’ was Mr. Duarte was the caretaker of the building. He cleaned night and day, mostly Mrs. Wilburg’s messes, without rest. No-one really talked to him, and even if they did he would have very little to say.
Though being poorer than poor, he guarded every last coin he had, not letting it out of his sight. He often glared at the blond, slim figure that is Edgar. Edgar had once tried to take a few coins from him in hopes of getting extra food. Of course, Edgar has never been very sneaky and he was caught. He was given the beating of a lifetime, in fact, he was sore for months.
Edgar and Nelda met when they were seven years old, Edgar was doorstepped once the police found him in a back alley. He has always been homeless, and before he could walk and talk, he was raised by the other homeless people.
Edgar was found on a busy city street, just lying in a small basket. Hamilton, the man who found Edgar, knew what happened to the orphanage kids and decided to raise him. When Edgar was seven, he died however and thus he was taken in by the orphanage.
No other races were allowed to be citizens in Rodrig, as they thought humans were the purest race, and no others should be allowed to live on their sacred grounds. The other races could care less, as all of then despised the humans for their arrogance.
Humans, only living for up to seventy years old, were considered to die the youngest. The Ser lived for a max of two hundred years, the Daoveian for two hundred and fifty, the elves for thousands and the orcs living for a hundred and fifty.
Though the wars had all ended, the Orcs always were prepping for another. They were bloodthirsty creatures. On the other hand, they were quite smart, with weapons more powerful than all other races. Spanning from war axes to maces, going to war with them would be risky.
The Daoveian were in the trees, living in hollow places. Many say they are behind the times, however they truly weren’t. They never flash their tech like other races, however, they are known to have lots of cutting edge technology.
The Elves were dependent on magic, using it to curse those who opposed them and to heal those they trust. Living in the mountains, hardly any ever saw them. Though, they were the most of any race to travel to Valengrad.
The Dwarves lived in the far mountains, deep beneath the ground. Feisty creatures as they were, they often would bicker amongst each other then go to war with other races.
Lastly, the Ser were forever in the barren deserts. These places were devoid of life other than the occasional cactus. With their spears and body armor, they would often ally with the Orcs during wars.
Edgar and Nelda never cared for the relationships between the races, as it didn’t concern them. They saw the Orc selling weapons or a Daoveian selling seeds or saplings every so often from a window.
Though not traveling over one hundred feet from the orphanage, they knew the city by heart due to Hamilton’s stories. Never had any child escaped the orphanage, but many had tried.
However, Nelda and Edgar couldn’t care for any of this as they decided it was time for another attempt to escape.
While sleeping across the room from each other, (courtesy of Mrs. Wilburg) they were often able to talk during the night by bribing the others to switch spots for the night using food and water. The bed Edgar was in tonight was across from Nelda.
Edgar whispered in his full, clean voice. “Can you hear me?”
“Of course.” Replied Nelda quite tiredly with a hoarse voice. He rolls over to face her. “Tonight?” She’d continue. Edgar nods, and looks to the window.
If they were careful, Nelda thought, they would be able to climb down the gutter’s drain and get to the bottom of the building, from there, they could make their way across the city to the alley where Edgar was found.
If something were to happen, they would never make it. If a slight cough would be given, they would have their location given away. They had to make it. If not, Nelda shuddered, she didn’t want to think about it. They had saved up rations all year just for this one day.
All the children had been bribed not to tell or make a noise, and even the birds outside were given some stale bread as to make them too busy to coo. It was a perfect day for escaping as well.
The night was cool and dark, and the humming of cicadas might help mask them. Edgar did look quite worried, but due to the dark hazy night Nelda was unable to notice. They both got up, silently as a mouse, and crept their way to the window.
They looked around the room one last time, then looked at each other.
“Ready?” Inquired Nelda more nervously than she had ever let on.
“As I’ll ever be.” Edgar replied, obviously attempting to mask his nervousness.
They both looked back to the old wooden window, put their hands on the ice cold wood on the bottom, and tugged upwards with all their might. Two versus a window, it was an easy match!
However, it didn’t budge. They tried again, and again, and again with no luck. Edgar and Nelda looked at each other and panicked.
“L-Locked?” Nelda stuttered.
“I think so…” Edgar said, terrified.
“Does she know?” Edgar asked.
“She can’t, no one else but us know!” Nelda replied. “Why is it locked then?” Edgar looked back to Nelda, he was terrified. “Maybe it's just.. stuck?” Nelda hoped, her face brightening.
Swish. The old wooden door opened at considerable speed. Both Nelda and Edgar wheeled around, even more panicked.
“What are you doing out of bed?” Mrs. Wilburg stood in the doorway and spoke in her whisky voice, ready to kill.
“Water.” Edgar yelped.
“Bathroom.” Nelda mumbled. Mrs. Wilburg stared then spoke again in a furious tone.
“Then what are you doing? Water is by your bed if you have a mind to save it and the bathroom is in that corner.” She’d point to a small, foul-smelling, rusted chamber pot.
“Um…” They both muttered, and looked at each other. Before Mrs. Wilburg knew what was happening, Edgar had slid under Mrs. Wilburg’s legs and darted at high speeds down the hall.
Mrs. Wilburg whisked around and screamed, “Come back here you stupid chi- HUP!” She yelped as she was knocked over by Nelda. Nelda followed in suit at equal speeds to Edgar. Mrs. Wilburg sat there, aghast for a good five seconds before leaped up from the hard wooden floor.
Even for her old age, she was really fast. Edgar and Nelda reached the front door and pulled. Locked. They both ran off again. Where would they go, Nelda thought. Suddenly, Edgar wheeled into the study room, only Mrs. Wilburg was allowed in.
He headed straight for the window. SMASH. Edgar plowed cleanly through the window and tumbled to the leafy floor. Nelda stood inside the building, clearly aghast. At that very moment, Mrs. Wilburg hurtled into the room.
“YOU! You’re both getting no dinner for a year! A thousand beatings I should think! The worst of the worst chores as well!” She screamed, her voice going raw. Nelda wasn’t stupid and hurled herself out the window.
Mrs. Wilburg screamed and yelped every second that they were running away from the orphanage.
“She’s gonna go mute.” Edgar said once they were far enough away. They both stopped and tried to catch their breath. Nelda said nothing. “Nelda?” Edgar said, quite worried about her. Nothing escaped Nelda’s lips. “Nelda? What's wrong?”
The cool damp night was ending as the daylight broke the sky open like a thousand stars. The sky of freedom, Edgar thought. Nelda stared to the sky and whistled. Nelda never whistled. She didn’t know how, but she did, apparently, as she was doing it now.
Her tune opened a world to Edgar, a world of hope. It told a story, their story, without a single word spoken. The birds stopped and turned and listened to her tale of sorrow.
She told of pain, loneliness and worry. She told of Edgar and of Mrs. Wilburg. The violet and green birds with silky feathers turned and sang back. Peace, peace at last for them. The last four notes flew across the sky in a whirlwind of song. The violet silk bird with cup shaped feathers on the head. It flew down and landed on Nelda’s head and chipped before plopping down.
“Uh, Nelda, a Flaggen Bird is on your head.” Edgar spoke, breaking the silence.
The bird was a deep purple and its slender body made it look more beautiful than any human. The main body had many teal blue feathers strung about and lime bits of fluff sticking out from the head.
“You realise these are from Feiuq, right?” He yelped. “Thats across the sea.”
Nelda turned to Edgar, still with the Flaggen Bird on her head.
“I think he likes me.” She said, quite aloof.
“Well uh, where did you learn to whistle?” Edgar inquired uncertainty.
“No clue.” Replied Nelda, aghast. “So, Mr. Flaggen Bird, can you please get off my head?” He didn’t budge. She picked him up and put him on the ground, but he leaped up onto her head once more.
“Can we keep him? Please?” Nelda begged to Edgar who stood in front of them, confused.
‘He's kinda cute, but, that's another mouth to feed.” Nelda stood there with giant, pleading eyes. “Fine.” Edgar said at last. And thus, they started walking towards the gates of Haylein, leaving the city that was their prison. Turning onto an old road, they walked. From the simple education they were given, they knew that going north would bring them to Zeses. With little shade and blasting heat, Nelda and Edgar walked without breaks.
i think i've won the "longest forum post" award.
k thx
bye
The land of Valruc stretched from coast to coast, a huge landmass full of life in the middle of the Great Ocean. The ocean was full of terror, with many ships never returning. Storms thundered across the sky there, and giant sea creatures pulled people down to never be seen again. Valruc was a haven compared to all other places, crops grew, storms wavered, and great kingdoms rose from the ground below.
There weren’t many other places in the world, to be fair, but beyond the Great Ocean was Waleur, a barren desert full of dangerous animals and plants. And beyond that was the Feiuq, a rainforest full of poisonous fruits and acid rains.
Valruc was a home for all, including the Ser, which were shunned in all other lands. The Ser were snake-like creatures, standing 6’ feet tall and coming in all breeds, from mambas to garters, these creatures would roam the land.
Many other odd creatures were here, for example, the Daoveian. The Daoveian are feathered creatures with beaks, they cannot fly, but have a natural ability to move easily as if they were the wind.
These six kingdoms, Rodig; home of the humans, Orsinan; realm of the Orcs, Valvire; land of the elves, Zeses; province of the Ser, Doraq; domain of the Dwarves, and lastly Fermis; kingdom of the Daoveian.
The kingdoms divided the land equally, as to not incite a war. It was Harq, the great King of Men, who suggested it. Each ruler of the kingdoms met up once a year, in Valengrad, the temple of all in the center of Valruc. This building was made of solid granite, a rare material in Valruc, riches were held there and anyone who stole from it got a horrible curse cast upon them by the gods.
It is often said that death is better than this curse, and the people who carry the curse never talk again, they are an empty husk devoid of life. Ancient text states that once a being takes from Valengrad, they have twenty-four hours to return what was taken. If not, the body will start to shrivel, they will lose taste and smell, and within five days, the being will be a hairless, ugly, and sad being.
All the happy memories and thoughts they might have once had will disappear. There is no cure for the curse, and many victims are often jailed in a dark room under Valengrad. They say if you put your ear to the cold floor, you might be able to hear their whispers. This curse brought order, this made thievery impossible, so to speak, no one had stolen a single atom worth of Valengrad’s treasures in over five hundred years.
However, just outside Sameiz, the Zeses capital, in a small town called Zamir, a lonely python looking Ser collapsed onto the ground. The Ser, whose name was Za’Zei, was holding a basket full of Ser artifacts. These items, mostly made of solid gold, showed hundreds of snakes on each. There were jewels, pots, books, cups, pieces of ancient clothing, anything you could imagine was in that basket.
Za’Zei was notably near Valengrad twenty-four hours before he collapsed. He landed on the soft dirt in the small trading village that was Zamir. Once on the ground, his scales lost their color.
The other Ser who were trading in the square in which he collapsed stopped and stared. Mumbles are murmurs swept across the plaza. No one knew what to do, a handful of Ser slithered up to the Ser and poked at him. Sticks, rocks, and claws jabbed at him, but nothing triggered a reaction. At the moment, a fat old farmer came up to Za’Zei.
“What's this then? Looks kinda' sick.” He proclaimed. “Is it like a virus?” He mumbled. Another Ser spoke up.
“It's not a virus, Aizi you old fool! It's a curse! We gotta get him to Sameiz!”
Za’Zei laid there for over one hour while being inspected before the old farmer took the short walk to Sameiz and alerted the officials. The officials ignored him for the longest time before agreeing, thinking the old man was crazy. However, within the next hour, Za’Zei was in the Ser King’s Palace.
The palace was a grand building, made of sandstone it seemed to touch the sky with three massive pillars with engraved writing in them. They depicted Ser, dragons, humans, orcs, dwarves and Daoveian. The Daoveian were battling with the Ser in a pool of blood.
They were natural enemies, birds and snakes. The smaller Daoveian were getting killed, and the larger were picking up the Ser and dropping them from the air. The art showed the Ser winning, as it was a Ser palace, after all. Guards lined the hall leading to the throne. The Ser king, Saziq, sat on the throne, his tail being curled up on it. Saziq was a 6’5 tall black python, with gold jewels, silver clothing, and painted claws. He looked more than a Ser, he looked as if he were a god himself.
Of course, he was not a god. The gods were a Human, a Dwarf, an Elf, a Daoveian, an Orc, and a Ser, one for each race. The Ser god was a black mamba, that was common knowledge, not a python. However, it was also common knowledge that Saziq wanted to be a god.
“What is this, why do you bring some drunken idiot here?” He roared upon seeing the crumpled and graying form of Za’Zei. At this point, Za’Zei was unable to make a coherent speech.
“He’s not drunk, we do not know what he is, your highness.” The guards hissed back, slightly worried for their own safety.
Once the guards finished speaking, the old farmer, Aizi, spoke up, “He was on his way here, with these!” He exclaimed, holding up all the jewels and treasures. The King glared greedily at the sight of the treasures. “Artifacts from Valengrad!” The entire room paused at this claim.
“Nonsense. No curse has been bestowed upon since the ancient times.” The King said, however he was slightly unsure with his words. “It is not possible.” He mumbled.
At this, a guard spoke. “I don’t know, your highness, it looks like the curse.”
He slithered over to the lump that was Za’Zei and waved his hand in front of his eyes. Nothing happened. The room paused again, with not a slight noise.
“You!” The King roared at the farmer. “What was he like when he got to your village?” He said, pointing his painted claw at the man.
“I dunno, I mean, he didn’t say anythin’.” Aizi spoke with terror in his eye, not wanting to upset the king. Aizi did not wish to be dinner for the king's “pets.”
“I mean his color! What color was he, you imbecile?” The King thundered with an almighty roar of fury.
“Black! Black your kingliness!” Aizi yelped. “He was black, then he fell on the ground. His scales turned grey. Dunno why.” He paused, thinking about what to say next. “What's this curse yall talkin’ bout?” He decided foolishly.
“SHUT UP!” The king roared to Aizi. “Someone take this disgrace to the cellars. He can’t tell anyone. He might have more information, or else I would kill him right here.” The king yelled with a wave of his hand. At once, two guards slithered to Aizi and started to drag him away.
“Wait!” Aizi yelled. “I have a family! A job! A life!” However the king said nothing, he just waved his hand once more and Aizi was knocked out with a thud.
“So, a Ser stole from Valengrad.” The king grumbled with a flare of hatred. “ This could mean war if the filthy Rodig found out. Take him to Valengrad, in the basement. Use this key.” He’d chuck a long, silver and rusted key to a hognose looking Ser.
He’d pause, expecting them to leave, but they didn’t, afraid that he didn’t wish it at this moment. No one wanted to end up like Aizi. “Go! Put him in the ancient cellar!” He’d say with a chest full of anger. He turned to another group of guards. “Go to Zamir, burn the place to the ground. Leave no witnesses. No one must know. If anyone asks, Zamir was sadly attacked by humans.” And with that, Sasiq slithered away into another chamber in the castle. The jewels sat in the bag on the cold, hard floor of the palace. The king smiled.
Over the next week, the news spread quickly. Zamir had been attacked by men, the king had said himself! Of course, all humans denied this bold statement, saying it was untrue and you couldn’t trust the Ser. However, men were known for doing whatever they wanted, so it was not unbelievable.
In the human capital of Haylein, there was a buzz. Were the rumors true? Were the Ser going to attack? Was it true that for the first time in five-hundred years, you could hear the whispers from underneath the floor of Valengrad?
Many go to Valengrad to worship, and a lot of people put their ear to the hard floor still, even if it has been five-hundred years. It has been quiet for the longest time, but now you could hear a soft moan. The moan of Za’Zei, a mumble, a mumble that makes no sense.
Za’Zei didn’t need to eat, sleep, or drink. He needed nothing. He just had his pain. Za’Zei had a family, and that family never saw him again. Mumbles, mumbles. Why did Za’Zei go to Valengrad, he's always wanted to go, but why now?
They wondered for days, but wondering didn’t bring their little boy back. Their little boy was gone. Gone, missing, “He wasn’t stupid!” The family exclaimed to all who listen. Za’Zei mumbled and mumbled, his family cried and cried, and the king smiled and smiled. “Riches.” He hissed, holding the treasures.
In Zamir, there was a stench of burning and death. Flames exploded over the sky, making a destructive yet beautiful scene. The houses were devoid of life, screams echoed through the town, just to be cut short with loud swishes and thuds of an axe or sword.
On the other side of Valruc, however, one girl’s journey was just beginning, Nelda, a fourteen year old girl with deep brown hair and an olive complexion was just waking up. Walking over to her dresser, she dressed into a faded green cloak. Slowly, all the others rose. They all bore the same sunken, depressed and faded smiles, and they all shared a similar story. That story was the story of the orphans.
The majority of the orphans had no parents, either dead or being too poor to raise them. The remainder were just left on the doorstep, with no knowledge. Nelda was left on the doorstep, but unlike all the other “doorstepers,” there was no note with here. No “I love you,” no “I’m sorry I have to do this,” and no “I will look for you when you are older.” Nelda was a human girl, living in Haylein capital of Rodig. The orphanage, called “Haylein’s Gentle Home” was anything but gentle.
Waking up at six o’clock sharp, you were to get dressed (With one of the three outfits you were allowed to own) and hurry down to breakfast in the crammed dining hall. With over two hundred orphans there and only around sixty five seats, it was two to a seat, maybe more. Nelda was never lucky enough to get her own seat. The meals, always consisting of grainy yet slimy oatmeal for breakfast, a stale sandwich with burnt ham from the butcher for lunch, and an apple and a single thin slice of bread with cheese for dinner.
Water was given at breakfast, a single canister per person. Oftenly, by the end of the day, the children would be thirsty and hungry. Hungry, always hungry. There was never enough to eat. Nelda had only one friend, and his name was Edgar. Neither Nelda nor Edgar knew their last names, only their first. Edgar was enthusiastic, excited, and always on the move. On the other hand, Nelda ws shy, aloof, and formal.
The “Mistress” of the orphanage was an elderly woman named Mrs. Wilburg. However, most call her “The Warden.” The orphans never attended school, even though the smallest of schools could fit them all. Edgar and Nelda were troublemakers, in Mrs. Wilburg’s eyes, however, they considered themselves “Leaders of the Resistance.”
To be fair, the resistance made up the majority of the orphans, however no one else did anything. Mainly, it was gripping under your breath while eating stale bread and doing back-breaking labor. Whenever someone was caught, it would result in no food for at least a day, extra chores, and a beating. Even the simplest mumble could make you sore for weeks.
Edgar and Nelda never got away with anything, and over their lifetime they got hundreds of punishments. However, despite that, they never lost hope. They hope, no, they know that their parents would come for them any day now.
But deep down in their hearts, they knew it was a lie. A sick joke Mrs. Wilburg sometimes made was when she mimicked the children talking about getting adopted. No one had been adopted in over three years, mainly because Mrs. Wilburg made the application over one hundred pages long with unanswerable questions.
The state always turned a blind eye and encouraged parents to surrender their children to her if they couldn’t take care of them. Kids kept coming, but no kids would leave, at least not until they turned eighteen. All children who leave end up becoming homeless criminals. To put it simply, if you entered the orphanage, your life was already over.
They all shared a single room on the top floor of the three-story brick building. The walls were quite sturdy and the door always was locked. The only time kids were to go outdoors was to do the yardwork and tend to the garden.
Though there was a garden, only Mrs. Wilburg got to eat any of its plantings. The ones she did not eat she sold. She made lots of money, mainly from blind adults who thought she was nice. Instead of using the money for the children, like she was supposed too, she would by herself jewels, furniture, spices, and silk all for herself.
Other than her, there were two other staff members. Ms. Carreen. She was gorgeous, and elegant, but looks aren’t everything. Inside, she was meaner than a witch. Not as evil as Mrs. Wilburg, however.
The only other ‘employee’ was Mr. Duarte was the caretaker of the building. He cleaned night and day, mostly Mrs. Wilburg’s messes, without rest. No-one really talked to him, and even if they did he would have very little to say.
Though being poorer than poor, he guarded every last coin he had, not letting it out of his sight. He often glared at the blond, slim figure that is Edgar. Edgar had once tried to take a few coins from him in hopes of getting extra food. Of course, Edgar has never been very sneaky and he was caught. He was given the beating of a lifetime, in fact, he was sore for months.
Edgar and Nelda met when they were seven years old, Edgar was doorstepped once the police found him in a back alley. He has always been homeless, and before he could walk and talk, he was raised by the other homeless people.
Edgar was found on a busy city street, just lying in a small basket. Hamilton, the man who found Edgar, knew what happened to the orphanage kids and decided to raise him. When Edgar was seven, he died however and thus he was taken in by the orphanage.
No other races were allowed to be citizens in Rodrig, as they thought humans were the purest race, and no others should be allowed to live on their sacred grounds. The other races could care less, as all of then despised the humans for their arrogance.
Humans, only living for up to seventy years old, were considered to die the youngest. The Ser lived for a max of two hundred years, the Daoveian for two hundred and fifty, the elves for thousands and the orcs living for a hundred and fifty.
Though the wars had all ended, the Orcs always were prepping for another. They were bloodthirsty creatures. On the other hand, they were quite smart, with weapons more powerful than all other races. Spanning from war axes to maces, going to war with them would be risky.
The Daoveian were in the trees, living in hollow places. Many say they are behind the times, however they truly weren’t. They never flash their tech like other races, however, they are known to have lots of cutting edge technology.
The Elves were dependent on magic, using it to curse those who opposed them and to heal those they trust. Living in the mountains, hardly any ever saw them. Though, they were the most of any race to travel to Valengrad.
The Dwarves lived in the far mountains, deep beneath the ground. Feisty creatures as they were, they often would bicker amongst each other then go to war with other races.
Lastly, the Ser were forever in the barren deserts. These places were devoid of life other than the occasional cactus. With their spears and body armor, they would often ally with the Orcs during wars.
Edgar and Nelda never cared for the relationships between the races, as it didn’t concern them. They saw the Orc selling weapons or a Daoveian selling seeds or saplings every so often from a window.
Though not traveling over one hundred feet from the orphanage, they knew the city by heart due to Hamilton’s stories. Never had any child escaped the orphanage, but many had tried.
However, Nelda and Edgar couldn’t care for any of this as they decided it was time for another attempt to escape.
While sleeping across the room from each other, (courtesy of Mrs. Wilburg) they were often able to talk during the night by bribing the others to switch spots for the night using food and water. The bed Edgar was in tonight was across from Nelda.
Edgar whispered in his full, clean voice. “Can you hear me?”
“Of course.” Replied Nelda quite tiredly with a hoarse voice. He rolls over to face her. “Tonight?” She’d continue. Edgar nods, and looks to the window.
If they were careful, Nelda thought, they would be able to climb down the gutter’s drain and get to the bottom of the building, from there, they could make their way across the city to the alley where Edgar was found.
If something were to happen, they would never make it. If a slight cough would be given, they would have their location given away. They had to make it. If not, Nelda shuddered, she didn’t want to think about it. They had saved up rations all year just for this one day.
All the children had been bribed not to tell or make a noise, and even the birds outside were given some stale bread as to make them too busy to coo. It was a perfect day for escaping as well.
The night was cool and dark, and the humming of cicadas might help mask them. Edgar did look quite worried, but due to the dark hazy night Nelda was unable to notice. They both got up, silently as a mouse, and crept their way to the window.
They looked around the room one last time, then looked at each other.
“Ready?” Inquired Nelda more nervously than she had ever let on.
“As I’ll ever be.” Edgar replied, obviously attempting to mask his nervousness.
They both looked back to the old wooden window, put their hands on the ice cold wood on the bottom, and tugged upwards with all their might. Two versus a window, it was an easy match!
However, it didn’t budge. They tried again, and again, and again with no luck. Edgar and Nelda looked at each other and panicked.
“L-Locked?” Nelda stuttered.
“I think so…” Edgar said, terrified.
“Does she know?” Edgar asked.
“She can’t, no one else but us know!” Nelda replied. “Why is it locked then?” Edgar looked back to Nelda, he was terrified. “Maybe it's just.. stuck?” Nelda hoped, her face brightening.
Swish. The old wooden door opened at considerable speed. Both Nelda and Edgar wheeled around, even more panicked.
“What are you doing out of bed?” Mrs. Wilburg stood in the doorway and spoke in her whisky voice, ready to kill.
“Water.” Edgar yelped.
“Bathroom.” Nelda mumbled. Mrs. Wilburg stared then spoke again in a furious tone.
“Then what are you doing? Water is by your bed if you have a mind to save it and the bathroom is in that corner.” She’d point to a small, foul-smelling, rusted chamber pot.
“Um…” They both muttered, and looked at each other. Before Mrs. Wilburg knew what was happening, Edgar had slid under Mrs. Wilburg’s legs and darted at high speeds down the hall.
Mrs. Wilburg whisked around and screamed, “Come back here you stupid chi- HUP!” She yelped as she was knocked over by Nelda. Nelda followed in suit at equal speeds to Edgar. Mrs. Wilburg sat there, aghast for a good five seconds before leaped up from the hard wooden floor.
Even for her old age, she was really fast. Edgar and Nelda reached the front door and pulled. Locked. They both ran off again. Where would they go, Nelda thought. Suddenly, Edgar wheeled into the study room, only Mrs. Wilburg was allowed in.
He headed straight for the window. SMASH. Edgar plowed cleanly through the window and tumbled to the leafy floor. Nelda stood inside the building, clearly aghast. At that very moment, Mrs. Wilburg hurtled into the room.
“YOU! You’re both getting no dinner for a year! A thousand beatings I should think! The worst of the worst chores as well!” She screamed, her voice going raw. Nelda wasn’t stupid and hurled herself out the window.
Mrs. Wilburg screamed and yelped every second that they were running away from the orphanage.
“She’s gonna go mute.” Edgar said once they were far enough away. They both stopped and tried to catch their breath. Nelda said nothing. “Nelda?” Edgar said, quite worried about her. Nothing escaped Nelda’s lips. “Nelda? What's wrong?”
The cool damp night was ending as the daylight broke the sky open like a thousand stars. The sky of freedom, Edgar thought. Nelda stared to the sky and whistled. Nelda never whistled. She didn’t know how, but she did, apparently, as she was doing it now.
Her tune opened a world to Edgar, a world of hope. It told a story, their story, without a single word spoken. The birds stopped and turned and listened to her tale of sorrow.
She told of pain, loneliness and worry. She told of Edgar and of Mrs. Wilburg. The violet and green birds with silky feathers turned and sang back. Peace, peace at last for them. The last four notes flew across the sky in a whirlwind of song. The violet silk bird with cup shaped feathers on the head. It flew down and landed on Nelda’s head and chipped before plopping down.
“Uh, Nelda, a Flaggen Bird is on your head.” Edgar spoke, breaking the silence.
The bird was a deep purple and its slender body made it look more beautiful than any human. The main body had many teal blue feathers strung about and lime bits of fluff sticking out from the head.
“You realise these are from Feiuq, right?” He yelped. “Thats across the sea.”
Nelda turned to Edgar, still with the Flaggen Bird on her head.
“I think he likes me.” She said, quite aloof.
“Well uh, where did you learn to whistle?” Edgar inquired uncertainty.
“No clue.” Replied Nelda, aghast. “So, Mr. Flaggen Bird, can you please get off my head?” He didn’t budge. She picked him up and put him on the ground, but he leaped up onto her head once more.
“Can we keep him? Please?” Nelda begged to Edgar who stood in front of them, confused.
‘He's kinda cute, but, that's another mouth to feed.” Nelda stood there with giant, pleading eyes. “Fine.” Edgar said at last. And thus, they started walking towards the gates of Haylein, leaving the city that was their prison. Turning onto an old road, they walked. From the simple education they were given, they knew that going north would bring them to Zeses. With little shade and blasting heat, Nelda and Edgar walked without breaks.
i think i've won the "longest forum post" award.
k thx
bye
