Showing posts with label Beth Stoneman. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Beth Stoneman. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

The Story of Lyra Swiftfist, Part Five

This is Part Five of a character backstory written by Beth Stoneman.  Part Four can be found here.


Alec and I went on adventures through the city, sneaking out of the monastery during meals and exploring all the different districts, usually staying in the safer districts of the city. We especially kept kept away from Residential District D until one day, we were feeling extra adventurous and confident in our abilities to fight back any attackers.

I had never seen an area so desolate and ominous, and the fact that it existed in the middle of Onegas, the largest city in the world, a city literally teeming with life, made it all the more foreboding. Even though the Mindflayer explosion had taken place hundreds of years ago, the extermination of life was still apparent. Houses that had once been glorious were charred and whole chunks were blown away. Not a soul seemed to exist there, but I knew some of the most foul creatures known to EbonHurst haunted those ruined buildings—no one else would stand living here. It was tiring, but fun to test our abilities against something besides a training dummy or each other.

Alec and I seemed to be able to defeat anything we came across, until we ran into one of the fiends we'd heard such awful stories about. In our arrogance, Alec and I had unwittingly marched into a place that we may not, in fact, have been able to fight our way out of. This fiend, a vampire, was tucked away in a building in absolute darkness. It seemed to be sleeping, so we attempted to leave without waking him. Much to my dismay, Alec didn't see a large rock in front of him and tripped over it, falling on his face and making a loud racket.

The vampire shot upright and stared hard at Alec. Without warning or effort, he rose and walked right up to the vampire and bared his neck. I shrieked and ran forward to save him, but the vampire clawed my face, draining me of some of what little energy I had left, before sinking his fangs deep into the throat of my companion, draining his life force, and leaving him to collapse on the ground.

I ran as fast as I could, using the sunlight outside to my advantage. The vampire shrieked a horrible sound at me as I escaped, my feet pounding the uneven ground outside with all the haste I could muster. That awful noise seemed to follow me all the way to the monastery.

When I finally returned, I fell into my bed and cried. All the lessons about composure and inner peace I'd asked the monks to teach me went to the wayside that day. I was consumed by sorrow and anger. I cried for the rest of the day, wishing for nothing more than to have Alec back and to turn back time. I knew we should not have wandered into District D, but something compelled us to test our mettle, and it led to more loss in my life – something I had hoped to avoid. When Brother Aric confronted me about my behavior, I told him everything, despite how incriminating it was. I was reprimanded, but because the monks were my family, they also supported me in my time of grief. Many of them had known what it was like to love before they joined the monastery, and I was met with sympathy. However, the monks decided it was best to keep me there longer before sending me on my quest for self-discovery. I redoubled my efforts to gain control of my emotions, and decided that falling in love was a major sacrifice that I was not willing to make again. The pain I felt that day rivaled the pain that I felt the day my parents died. I spent more time at the monastery meditating and searching for serenity than I ever had, because any sort of inner peace was made less attainable now that I'd suffered another loss.

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

The Story of Lyra Swiftfist, Part Four

This is Part Four of a story created by guest writer Beth Stoneman.  Part Three can be found here.


The journey to the monastery took months, and felt as though we'd traveled across the world to our destination—but at the end of the trip, it was not the monastery that amazed me. The monastery was nestled in a corner of a grand city the men called Onegas, the capitol city of the Vigilant Empire.

I'd never been to an Imperial city, and I remember wondering if they were all like this. It seemed to stretch on forever, in a never-ending sea of marketplaces, temples, and magnificent houses. There were stations at many corners that the brothers explained were 'teleportation stations', where you could purchase inner-city instant transportation, but we used none of them, my companions preferring to demonstrate as much of the massive city to me as possible. As a result, a third of the journey seemed to have consisted of merely navigating the city to the tucked-away corner in which the monastery sat.

The building was modest, but large enough to harbor a host of people training in unarmed combat. The men that recruited me told me about other monasteries and other ways of training, ways of life. The building before me was nothing like what they described, but it looked much more like something I could live with. They showed me to my room, where I set my belongings that I had carried with me from Alcarinore, and then gave me a tour. There were many fighting rooms, but equally many meditation rooms. Whole galleries were dedicated to leaders of the Order that had accomplished great feats, and others were dedicated to magical garb that were described as granting brilliant abilities to their wearers. I never saw a suit of armor in the whole place, and there were very few weapons. The only weapons I saw were strange weapons I'd never seen before – sharp disks that, when thrown, could pierce most anything, simple long sticks, curved blades, and other stranger weapons. The whole place was beautiful inside, though much of my awe was inspired by the novelty of it all.

After my tour, I went back to my room. It was austere, but much better than anything I'd ever lived with. The best part was the plush bed for me to sleep on – a luxury with which I'd never been endowed.
Training was rigorous, but I learned much that I would never before have had access to. I asked my teachers to help me learn to make peace with my suffering, and I had food every day. The food was the best part. It was delicious, and I had never felt more strong. The monks gave me enough to sustain me, which was more than ever. I remember marveling at the fact that, apparently, being fed this often was not odd to everyone else.

Years passed of happiness and hard work. I had little time for play, but this was the first time I'd felt like I had a family since my parents passed. I'd made friends in the slums, yes, but I never felt like I belonged there without my parents to guide me. Here was a place with comfortable accommodations and enough food that the familiar starving sensation was a thing of the past.

I did find time to myself, however, which I usually spent getting to know the other monks. There was one man I related to really well, Brother Alec, whom I spent the majority of my time with. He was kind, if a bit coarse, and a skilled fighter. He often fought upside-down, choosing to adapt some of the combat maneuvers we learned to a more risky style that looked more impressive and was harder to evade. I sparred with him and helped him with his adapted maneuvers—I still remember the week I had bruises all the way up one of my arms. He was gentle with me, however, only wishing to help condition my bones, never to actually harm me.

We spent most of our time together, wandering the grounds and enjoying the beauty of some of the gardens. I connected with him on a deeper, more profound level than I did with anyone else. Our connection was almost spiritual; therefore, when I finally admitted to myself that I'd fallen in love, I'm sure it would not have been a surprise to anyone that saw us together. Those were the best years of my life, even though we hid it from everyone. Alec made me happier than I had ever been. I'd never known such kindness except as a small child, but those days seemed long gone. He was everything to me at that time in my life, and sparring with him helped me further advance my training. He was both a lover and a best friend, when I'd never even had a friend before.
 

©2011 Cerebral Vomit DESIGNED BY JAY DAVIS