Post by Arba Starshine on Dec 25, 2017 9:06:27 GMT -6
A dense forest of bamboo trees surrounds a serene mountain road - on one side a cliff-face rises up into the clouds to pierce the veil of the sky, and on the other side some ways out is a sheer drop that plummets far down into a valley below. There have been no real signs of civilization besides this road for hours, but for the first time in a very long time, one can see smoke rising in the distance.... It must belong to a modest fire - something no greater than what a single person might prepare to cook their daily meal - but no doubt it's a sign of something to be found.... Perhaps there is a bed to rest there, or even food to be shared.
Along the road a young boy walked - he must have been no older than ten or eleven judging by his height.... Red hair sprouted from his head in an unkempt mass that was haphazardly pulled back into a messy ponytail, and he sported threadbare western-style clothing that had clearly seen better days. Trudging along with a walking stick in his hands that was made from the broken haft of a shovel, the young male pauses as his stomach growls with discontent, patting it as if to quell the hunger pangs that ached within. "....I wonder if maybe there's some food where that smoke is coming from," he'd ponder aloud, as he drew a little closer to the smoke rising in the distance, "Maybe if I'm lucky, I can steal something.... Maybe if I'm really lucky, they'll just give me something." --- He knew better than to think so wishfully, but hunger made one hopeful.
Stowing his thoughts for the moment and continuing on his way, the young boy trudged along a little faster, his steps lightened by hope. Barefoot and skinny, It was easy enough to see that the young lad hadn't had a thing to eat in maybe days - his cheeks were gaunt and his arms were thin, though there was still a bit of sinewy muscle on his bones that implied he'd once perhaps worked a field. The boy's name was Taiga... Taiga Pennini, and he was the sole survivor of his homeland as far as he could tell - a land where his family had suffered under the corruption of their king, only to have all their miseries ended by genocide. At least the king himself was dead now - that was some small comfort.
Ah-hah! It seemed Taiga drew close! Ahead in the distance he began to see the outline of a small brick and stone house with a pyramid-shaped roof. There was a small fire off to the side with the largest fish Taiga had ever seen roasting on a stick thrust into the ground, and an older gentleman - possibly in his eighties - chopping wood in the most surprising fashion. For all of his thirteen years of age, Taiga had never once seen a man cut wood with his bare hands... And yet here this old geezer was, splitting logs with a well placed chop from the side of his hand as if he had used a sharp axe and impeccable technique. Perhaps stealing from this old man was not a good idea after-all.
Should he approach now? Could he approach? Did the older gentleman even speak the same language as him? Tons of questions flooded Taiga's mind as he froze in place, leaning on his shovel haft.... He was suddenly full of fear and dread - emotions that had been taught to him by his suffering over the last few years...
Along the road a young boy walked - he must have been no older than ten or eleven judging by his height.... Red hair sprouted from his head in an unkempt mass that was haphazardly pulled back into a messy ponytail, and he sported threadbare western-style clothing that had clearly seen better days. Trudging along with a walking stick in his hands that was made from the broken haft of a shovel, the young male pauses as his stomach growls with discontent, patting it as if to quell the hunger pangs that ached within. "....I wonder if maybe there's some food where that smoke is coming from," he'd ponder aloud, as he drew a little closer to the smoke rising in the distance, "Maybe if I'm lucky, I can steal something.... Maybe if I'm really lucky, they'll just give me something." --- He knew better than to think so wishfully, but hunger made one hopeful.
Stowing his thoughts for the moment and continuing on his way, the young boy trudged along a little faster, his steps lightened by hope. Barefoot and skinny, It was easy enough to see that the young lad hadn't had a thing to eat in maybe days - his cheeks were gaunt and his arms were thin, though there was still a bit of sinewy muscle on his bones that implied he'd once perhaps worked a field. The boy's name was Taiga... Taiga Pennini, and he was the sole survivor of his homeland as far as he could tell - a land where his family had suffered under the corruption of their king, only to have all their miseries ended by genocide. At least the king himself was dead now - that was some small comfort.
Ah-hah! It seemed Taiga drew close! Ahead in the distance he began to see the outline of a small brick and stone house with a pyramid-shaped roof. There was a small fire off to the side with the largest fish Taiga had ever seen roasting on a stick thrust into the ground, and an older gentleman - possibly in his eighties - chopping wood in the most surprising fashion. For all of his thirteen years of age, Taiga had never once seen a man cut wood with his bare hands... And yet here this old geezer was, splitting logs with a well placed chop from the side of his hand as if he had used a sharp axe and impeccable technique. Perhaps stealing from this old man was not a good idea after-all.
Should he approach now? Could he approach? Did the older gentleman even speak the same language as him? Tons of questions flooded Taiga's mind as he froze in place, leaning on his shovel haft.... He was suddenly full of fear and dread - emotions that had been taught to him by his suffering over the last few years...