Loneliness
60th Ash 121
When did it happen?
A question that plagued this young man's mind since he left the last place he thought of as home. He felt a distant coldness coming from his Lady as of late but he couldn't find ways to placate her and prove his worth in her eyes. What was it about his demeanor and skills was he lacking? What was it that made her send him out for the last time? What should he do now?
There were no answers in the quiet of the night. Nothing but the void left in his soul and the gift of aether she gave him upon forcing him to fend for himself for the last time. Mayhap it is because he grew to strong too fast? Was he threatening her without his realizing?
His gifts are his own now, and the exhilarating feeling of pride he took now diminished as he now grew stronger with no one behind him to protect. Empty progress towards no real goal, just as it was before.
There was a difference though, he was strong. No more should he cower in the darkness while others take what he could have, but for what reason?
Should he approach another? The man who called himself Aurin and the woman that traveled with him? Perhaps the spider woman Nnerka? He would be stifled by one and used by the other, he felt. None could be trusted without being watched, but who to start with?
The quiet of the low city in Kalzasi is abnormal as Yshvold sits on one of its many roofs, watching the starry sky above. Due to his many attacks on the scum and thugs in the area the crime has quieted down by a slight margin, although it never compared to the travesties he had known down below. Muggers were never a real threat, just desperate and overconfident idiots that never saw him coming, although the guards never appreciated his efforts.
Maybe he should approach a guard? Some authority in this town might be able to steer him in some sort of direction.
Yshvold fiddled with his hood and found the hole where they shot an arrow through to take him down on his first night of vigilantism and he frowned.
Perhaps not.
"Maybe he should be alone? Who would want a monster?" Yshvold said outloud to himself, unaware that he was speaking.
"Why do I always have to be alone? I did my best, I fought harder than anyone." He answered to himself without thinking.
"Then why are we alone again? It's our fault isn't it?" Yshvold said as he stood up and held the fragmented remains of his mask. Just enough parts were mended to hide all but his left eye.
Just as Yshold was about to answer he realized he was talking out loud and grimaced at himself. When did it happen?
When did he start to lose his mind? Did he even have it in the first place? All this time he was acting on instinct, spite, and the words of others to tell him what to do. Now he had to decide on what to do on his own, and he couldn't do it.
A decision to kill, steal, hide, and fight was always easy as it was in the moment but his long term goals were never on his mind. He would be lying if he said it didn't frighten him.
He couldn't come up with an answer but right now he could do something. Train with the aether he was given and find new sources to feed on to train more. Become stronger for the day he would be needed by someone who was worthy.
His dream gave him an idea, chains. Restrain and control his enemies. His encounter with the monster below gave him more to think on as well. Armor, bound by his will and able to protect and attack at will.
Images in his head are foggy as he tried to think about how to conjure such constructs. He pictured his body shrouded in plate armor like some hero adventurer, blade in hand and courage in his heart, but it felt wrong. Looking to the skies he could see the stars he painted as a great scaled beast, winged and majestic in its terror, and thought 'why can't that be me?'.
As he imagined it crystals formed slowly around his arms and legs, encasing them as hardened and jagged spikes with claws at the ends of his fingers. Slowly his eyes fogged over as the armor took form and attached itself to his joints to move more freely and without any slack. Yshvold barely noticed as it locked onto his joints and became one with him. Then the legs formed with much of the same qualities and Yshvold looked down at what he made. Just a few days ago he would be overjoyed at the progress made but now he could only look down with an empty gaze as he slowly watched his body transform into that of the monster the world thinks him to be.
He thought of finishing the construct but his aether pool was already starting to drain, this will have to do.
Now came the second part, chains. He would need a test subject for this.
As he thought that the sounds of a fight broke out near a local bar, spilling out onto the streets. Not an uncommon occurrence and hardly a blip on his radar for him to enact his own brand of justice.
Justice... maybe this is what he should seek. Not for himself but for those who need it. Those like him, the powerless, fearful, struggling, and forgotten.
Again he thought of the dream he had, to be a monster meant abandoning many of his ideals for a selfish need for strength. It wasn't unappealing to him now, as he had nothing left to lose, but something tugged at the back of his mind it wasn't time. He still has something he needed, even if he didn't know what it was yet.
Tonight he would try to be an incarnation of justice, and bring those who disturbed the peace and quiet of the night down.
With that thought he was off. Jumping from rooftop to rooftop with greater ease than he was used too, the crystal armor extending enough to give him a greater boost with his jumps and more cushioning for a landing. What would have taken him five minutes to get to where he wanted to go got him there in less than two, with an obvious trail of crystal footprints in his wake, each dissipating slowly as he progressed.
Down below were four men and one on the ground being pummeled, there was no time to think.
Yshvold jumped from his rooftop and landed with a mighty punch on one of the assailants temple, rattling his brain in his skull and sending him crashing to the ground.
"What the fuck?!" "Who the hell?!" "Fuck it's him! Call the guards!" "Run! He's going to kill us all!" Several voices shouted in confusion and fear as the boy made his entrance and kept his posture low to the ground like and animal.
The remaining three men forgot about their target and slowly regrouped, keeping their fists up to defend themselves. The one being beaten coughed and sputtered on the ground without being able to stand.
"Whoa now, no need for trouble. How about you just go your way and we'll just go ours?" One of the thugs says slowly as he holds out his hands with their palms open towards Yshvold.
These men, these cowardly fools. They would happily gang up on one person but when faced by the one who had been stalking those like them every night with no survivors they shrink from the challenge.
"You'll fight one man and beat him to death but you will not face a boy? I see..." Yshvold raised both clawed hands towards the three men, he would give them a taste of their own bitter medicine. Humiliation, chaining them down to the level of this poor individual that was so harshly treated.
His eyes grew cloudy again, and changed to a deep dark black. He hated these cowards, there was nothing to respect here. He wished to bind them and bring them pain.
With that though his wrath was unleashed and chains shot from the palms of his hands, two of the men dodged out of the way with the third being shoved into the path of the boys attack. He was bound tightly and fell onto the ground, screaming about traitors and yellow-bellied assholes.
"Why do you run, cowards. Show me your fighting spirit." Yshvold's said in a low growl as he began to enjoy terrorizing the group and the crowd inside.
The remaining two circled around attempted to pincer the boy from both sides. He dropped his stance and waited for the both of them to come in close, each throwing a punch at him, and jumped straight up. Their attacks missed him by a hair and ended up colliding into each other, but now the boy found himself with only one direction to go.
When he landed they would grab him, and bring him pain. He will not allow that. He will show them that touching him would bring them pain.
With that thought Yshvold brought his armored limbs together and poured more aether into them, his pool of power now dropping dangerously low, and spikes grew as he fell with greater speed as his weight increased.
Both men dispersed as they saw this meteorite fall down and scatter dirt and dust into the air on impact, shattering the armor he devised in his daydream state from before.
With the armor gone he now had to fight like normal, a plan had to be hatched and quickly.
The dust will cover him for only a few seconds, he will have to move onto one and incapacitate them with as few attacks as possible. Then move onto the other in the confusion, but should he kill them?
...
Yshvold thought of justice and what it would mean in this scenario. He wasn't sure yet, but he had to win regardless.
First step came with him taking off from impact. He unsheathed his daggers and held them in a way that he could pummel the thug with the handle without causing serious injury. The man saw him emerge from the smoke and shouted as he wound up a punch. Before he could throw it he was smashed in the teeth and then the temple, shaking up his vision and spouting blood from his mouth as he hit the ground with a thump.
"Then there was one." Yshvold whispered to himself as he entered the dust again, now dispersing at an alarming rate.
The final assailant was on his guard and ready for the boy, a punch was already thrown as Yshvold left the dust. It would make contact.
At least it would of if both fighters weren't blown away by a blast from an unknown third party.
"Who's the dead man!" The man shouted and Yshvold couldn't help but agree with him.
"Someone wishes to show us blood." Yshvold says in a low voice as he looks to where the blast came from.
"In the name of the Sky Guard and Kalzasi law, you are under arrest. Lay down your arms and surrender!" A man in Sky Guard armor shouted at them with a few patrols. The mages he brought with him were obviously aiming at Yshvold with a few bowman keeping tabs at the other men involved in the fighter.
Yshvold spit on the ground as he felt the little power he had left, but how to use it to escape this situation.
"Fuck, alright I surrender." The man downed next to yshvold slowly raises his hands up but was being ignored by the man in charge, his eyes fixated on the hooded boy with the daggers.
"I am not lost yet." Yshvold says in defiance and uses the last of his aether to propel a platform of crystal from underneath him and sending him shooting upwards towards the safety of the rooftops.
"Damn it boy! Get down here! I'm not spending another night chasing you!" The one in charge shouted as he signaled the mages and bowman to shoot.
Several different spells smashed against his platform and took chunks out as arrows chipped away at what little cover he had. There was only one way to escape without notice.
"Then go home!" Yshvold shouts as he wills the platform to switch trajectory, and bottoming out the rest of what he was given. The platform flung in a 90 degree turn into a darker part of the low city.
Yshvold took the chance to drop from it as more spells were hurled at it and landed in a pile of garbage. Some part of him felt as though he deserved that part, but now was not the time to dwell on it.
"Son of a bitch! Not! Again! Find him!" The lead guard shouted in anger and the rest spread out in the direction his last construct took.
Yshvold smiled smugly and dug into the garbage pile, resting comfortably until the patrols passed. Should one find him they would find a dangerous prey indeed, but they will more than likely be following where ever he sent his last drop of aether.
Soon his chains stopped binding the man on the ground near the bar, the man who was beaten would be given care by the Sky Guard, and testimony would be given on behalf of Yshvold. He would know none of this, and rest his eyes in his hole of trash and warmth.
It was safe for now, but very lonely.
A question that plagued this young man's mind since he left the last place he thought of as home. He felt a distant coldness coming from his Lady as of late but he couldn't find ways to placate her and prove his worth in her eyes. What was it about his demeanor and skills was he lacking? What was it that made her send him out for the last time? What should he do now?
There were no answers in the quiet of the night. Nothing but the void left in his soul and the gift of aether she gave him upon forcing him to fend for himself for the last time. Mayhap it is because he grew to strong too fast? Was he threatening her without his realizing?
His gifts are his own now, and the exhilarating feeling of pride he took now diminished as he now grew stronger with no one behind him to protect. Empty progress towards no real goal, just as it was before.
There was a difference though, he was strong. No more should he cower in the darkness while others take what he could have, but for what reason?
Should he approach another? The man who called himself Aurin and the woman that traveled with him? Perhaps the spider woman Nnerka? He would be stifled by one and used by the other, he felt. None could be trusted without being watched, but who to start with?
The quiet of the low city in Kalzasi is abnormal as Yshvold sits on one of its many roofs, watching the starry sky above. Due to his many attacks on the scum and thugs in the area the crime has quieted down by a slight margin, although it never compared to the travesties he had known down below. Muggers were never a real threat, just desperate and overconfident idiots that never saw him coming, although the guards never appreciated his efforts.
Maybe he should approach a guard? Some authority in this town might be able to steer him in some sort of direction.
Yshvold fiddled with his hood and found the hole where they shot an arrow through to take him down on his first night of vigilantism and he frowned.
Perhaps not.
"Maybe he should be alone? Who would want a monster?" Yshvold said outloud to himself, unaware that he was speaking.
"Why do I always have to be alone? I did my best, I fought harder than anyone." He answered to himself without thinking.
"Then why are we alone again? It's our fault isn't it?" Yshvold said as he stood up and held the fragmented remains of his mask. Just enough parts were mended to hide all but his left eye.
Just as Yshold was about to answer he realized he was talking out loud and grimaced at himself. When did it happen?
When did he start to lose his mind? Did he even have it in the first place? All this time he was acting on instinct, spite, and the words of others to tell him what to do. Now he had to decide on what to do on his own, and he couldn't do it.
A decision to kill, steal, hide, and fight was always easy as it was in the moment but his long term goals were never on his mind. He would be lying if he said it didn't frighten him.
He couldn't come up with an answer but right now he could do something. Train with the aether he was given and find new sources to feed on to train more. Become stronger for the day he would be needed by someone who was worthy.
His dream gave him an idea, chains. Restrain and control his enemies. His encounter with the monster below gave him more to think on as well. Armor, bound by his will and able to protect and attack at will.
Images in his head are foggy as he tried to think about how to conjure such constructs. He pictured his body shrouded in plate armor like some hero adventurer, blade in hand and courage in his heart, but it felt wrong. Looking to the skies he could see the stars he painted as a great scaled beast, winged and majestic in its terror, and thought 'why can't that be me?'.
As he imagined it crystals formed slowly around his arms and legs, encasing them as hardened and jagged spikes with claws at the ends of his fingers. Slowly his eyes fogged over as the armor took form and attached itself to his joints to move more freely and without any slack. Yshvold barely noticed as it locked onto his joints and became one with him. Then the legs formed with much of the same qualities and Yshvold looked down at what he made. Just a few days ago he would be overjoyed at the progress made but now he could only look down with an empty gaze as he slowly watched his body transform into that of the monster the world thinks him to be.
He thought of finishing the construct but his aether pool was already starting to drain, this will have to do.
Now came the second part, chains. He would need a test subject for this.
As he thought that the sounds of a fight broke out near a local bar, spilling out onto the streets. Not an uncommon occurrence and hardly a blip on his radar for him to enact his own brand of justice.
Justice... maybe this is what he should seek. Not for himself but for those who need it. Those like him, the powerless, fearful, struggling, and forgotten.
Again he thought of the dream he had, to be a monster meant abandoning many of his ideals for a selfish need for strength. It wasn't unappealing to him now, as he had nothing left to lose, but something tugged at the back of his mind it wasn't time. He still has something he needed, even if he didn't know what it was yet.
Tonight he would try to be an incarnation of justice, and bring those who disturbed the peace and quiet of the night down.
With that thought he was off. Jumping from rooftop to rooftop with greater ease than he was used too, the crystal armor extending enough to give him a greater boost with his jumps and more cushioning for a landing. What would have taken him five minutes to get to where he wanted to go got him there in less than two, with an obvious trail of crystal footprints in his wake, each dissipating slowly as he progressed.
Down below were four men and one on the ground being pummeled, there was no time to think.
Yshvold jumped from his rooftop and landed with a mighty punch on one of the assailants temple, rattling his brain in his skull and sending him crashing to the ground.
"What the fuck?!" "Who the hell?!" "Fuck it's him! Call the guards!" "Run! He's going to kill us all!" Several voices shouted in confusion and fear as the boy made his entrance and kept his posture low to the ground like and animal.
The remaining three men forgot about their target and slowly regrouped, keeping their fists up to defend themselves. The one being beaten coughed and sputtered on the ground without being able to stand.
"Whoa now, no need for trouble. How about you just go your way and we'll just go ours?" One of the thugs says slowly as he holds out his hands with their palms open towards Yshvold.
These men, these cowardly fools. They would happily gang up on one person but when faced by the one who had been stalking those like them every night with no survivors they shrink from the challenge.
"You'll fight one man and beat him to death but you will not face a boy? I see..." Yshvold raised both clawed hands towards the three men, he would give them a taste of their own bitter medicine. Humiliation, chaining them down to the level of this poor individual that was so harshly treated.
His eyes grew cloudy again, and changed to a deep dark black. He hated these cowards, there was nothing to respect here. He wished to bind them and bring them pain.
With that though his wrath was unleashed and chains shot from the palms of his hands, two of the men dodged out of the way with the third being shoved into the path of the boys attack. He was bound tightly and fell onto the ground, screaming about traitors and yellow-bellied assholes.
"Why do you run, cowards. Show me your fighting spirit." Yshvold's said in a low growl as he began to enjoy terrorizing the group and the crowd inside.
The remaining two circled around attempted to pincer the boy from both sides. He dropped his stance and waited for the both of them to come in close, each throwing a punch at him, and jumped straight up. Their attacks missed him by a hair and ended up colliding into each other, but now the boy found himself with only one direction to go.
When he landed they would grab him, and bring him pain. He will not allow that. He will show them that touching him would bring them pain.
With that thought Yshvold brought his armored limbs together and poured more aether into them, his pool of power now dropping dangerously low, and spikes grew as he fell with greater speed as his weight increased.
Both men dispersed as they saw this meteorite fall down and scatter dirt and dust into the air on impact, shattering the armor he devised in his daydream state from before.
With the armor gone he now had to fight like normal, a plan had to be hatched and quickly.
The dust will cover him for only a few seconds, he will have to move onto one and incapacitate them with as few attacks as possible. Then move onto the other in the confusion, but should he kill them?
...
Yshvold thought of justice and what it would mean in this scenario. He wasn't sure yet, but he had to win regardless.
First step came with him taking off from impact. He unsheathed his daggers and held them in a way that he could pummel the thug with the handle without causing serious injury. The man saw him emerge from the smoke and shouted as he wound up a punch. Before he could throw it he was smashed in the teeth and then the temple, shaking up his vision and spouting blood from his mouth as he hit the ground with a thump.
"Then there was one." Yshvold whispered to himself as he entered the dust again, now dispersing at an alarming rate.
The final assailant was on his guard and ready for the boy, a punch was already thrown as Yshvold left the dust. It would make contact.
At least it would of if both fighters weren't blown away by a blast from an unknown third party.
"Who's the dead man!" The man shouted and Yshvold couldn't help but agree with him.
"Someone wishes to show us blood." Yshvold says in a low voice as he looks to where the blast came from.
"In the name of the Sky Guard and Kalzasi law, you are under arrest. Lay down your arms and surrender!" A man in Sky Guard armor shouted at them with a few patrols. The mages he brought with him were obviously aiming at Yshvold with a few bowman keeping tabs at the other men involved in the fighter.
Yshvold spit on the ground as he felt the little power he had left, but how to use it to escape this situation.
"Fuck, alright I surrender." The man downed next to yshvold slowly raises his hands up but was being ignored by the man in charge, his eyes fixated on the hooded boy with the daggers.
"I am not lost yet." Yshvold says in defiance and uses the last of his aether to propel a platform of crystal from underneath him and sending him shooting upwards towards the safety of the rooftops.
"Damn it boy! Get down here! I'm not spending another night chasing you!" The one in charge shouted as he signaled the mages and bowman to shoot.
Several different spells smashed against his platform and took chunks out as arrows chipped away at what little cover he had. There was only one way to escape without notice.
"Then go home!" Yshvold shouts as he wills the platform to switch trajectory, and bottoming out the rest of what he was given. The platform flung in a 90 degree turn into a darker part of the low city.
Yshvold took the chance to drop from it as more spells were hurled at it and landed in a pile of garbage. Some part of him felt as though he deserved that part, but now was not the time to dwell on it.
"Son of a bitch! Not! Again! Find him!" The lead guard shouted in anger and the rest spread out in the direction his last construct took.
Yshvold smiled smugly and dug into the garbage pile, resting comfortably until the patrols passed. Should one find him they would find a dangerous prey indeed, but they will more than likely be following where ever he sent his last drop of aether.
Soon his chains stopped binding the man on the ground near the bar, the man who was beaten would be given care by the Sky Guard, and testimony would be given on behalf of Yshvold. He would know none of this, and rest his eyes in his hole of trash and warmth.
It was safe for now, but very lonely.
