Pallidamors
08-27-2004, 06:59 AM
Chapter 1: A boy's fear.
Windurst was a prosperous and bustling small village in the southeastern quadrant of Vana'diel. Known for its' fishing, highest quality clothesmaking, incredible bonecrafting, and unsurpassed cooks, it seemed a Utopia for peace, beauty, and innocence. Home to Mithra and Tarutaru, it posessed a playful and joyous air about it, and was always welcoming visitors with open arms and warm smiles.
Born the youngest of a humble family of Tarutarus, Pallidamors was always trying to help out around town. He took great pride in running errands, sharing his limited knowledge of the world, and ever curious of what lay behind the gates of his beloved home.
He became easily bored of his classes at the Aurastery, and dreamed of someday becoming an adventurer like the great heroes of the Great War. And his interest only amplified, watching the travelers come and go from the docks of the Airship Port. Though not all was as serene as it appeared.
With the Yagudo becoming an increasing strain on the community of Windurst, he prayed that the Star Sybil would be able to take action to relieve the worries of the peaceful villagers. The typical retaliation to an attack on the villagers was met with an offering of peace, usually items of great value, damaging the already modest economy of Windurst's inhabitants.
But his prayers would be answered in a way he had never fathomed.
Pallidamors' father arrived home later than usual on a Firesday, wounded and weary. He stumbled in, saying nothing, and slumped to rest on the nearest chair. As his siblings tended to his fathers' wounds, and his mother sit silently in the commonroom, wringing her hands. Young Palli stood amidst the commotion, seemingly locked in place, unable to move, speak, or even think.
His mother, noticing his young son's despair, moved slowly toward him and knelt down to see him eye to eye. He was crying.
Brackish tears streamed down his cheeks, converging on his chin, and dropped silently upon the wooden floor. She took him into embrace and explained that this was the way of life. As much as the Windurstians stayed out of the affairs of the beastmen, the attacks only became more fierce. Places such as Saurtabaruta, which were once playgrounds for the Mithran and Taru children, are now infested with treacherous enemies.
Palli remained silent and still. What would happen if his father weren't to return home? What would he do if his friends were to vanish during recess? His mind was blurring with thoughts of horror and fear. As his mother dryed his tears with her weathered garments, his father was falling asleep, and the rest of the children were quickly following suit, laying off to rest in the arms of their brave father.
"It's time you went to sleep, my sweet Pallidamors", she softly spoke into his ear.
No response. His eyes locked onto his father. Unable to console her trembling child, she picked him up, and tucked him into bed. Shortly thereafter, she turned off the lanterns and slunk into her own bed.
Pallidamors was unable to sleep. His fear of his father's, and the rest of his family's safety encompassed his every thought. Slowly, these lofty fears turned into loathsome hatred. His fists clenched tight, and his teeth ground together until they were about to shatter.
"ENOUGH!" he thought to himself. "If the peace and prosperity of my people is to persevere, action must be undertaken!"
Stealthily removing his covers, he snuck out of his home under the cover of night. Though he had no idea how to stifle the attacks, he knew where he had to start...
Windurst was a prosperous and bustling small village in the southeastern quadrant of Vana'diel. Known for its' fishing, highest quality clothesmaking, incredible bonecrafting, and unsurpassed cooks, it seemed a Utopia for peace, beauty, and innocence. Home to Mithra and Tarutaru, it posessed a playful and joyous air about it, and was always welcoming visitors with open arms and warm smiles.
Born the youngest of a humble family of Tarutarus, Pallidamors was always trying to help out around town. He took great pride in running errands, sharing his limited knowledge of the world, and ever curious of what lay behind the gates of his beloved home.
He became easily bored of his classes at the Aurastery, and dreamed of someday becoming an adventurer like the great heroes of the Great War. And his interest only amplified, watching the travelers come and go from the docks of the Airship Port. Though not all was as serene as it appeared.
With the Yagudo becoming an increasing strain on the community of Windurst, he prayed that the Star Sybil would be able to take action to relieve the worries of the peaceful villagers. The typical retaliation to an attack on the villagers was met with an offering of peace, usually items of great value, damaging the already modest economy of Windurst's inhabitants.
But his prayers would be answered in a way he had never fathomed.
Pallidamors' father arrived home later than usual on a Firesday, wounded and weary. He stumbled in, saying nothing, and slumped to rest on the nearest chair. As his siblings tended to his fathers' wounds, and his mother sit silently in the commonroom, wringing her hands. Young Palli stood amidst the commotion, seemingly locked in place, unable to move, speak, or even think.
His mother, noticing his young son's despair, moved slowly toward him and knelt down to see him eye to eye. He was crying.
Brackish tears streamed down his cheeks, converging on his chin, and dropped silently upon the wooden floor. She took him into embrace and explained that this was the way of life. As much as the Windurstians stayed out of the affairs of the beastmen, the attacks only became more fierce. Places such as Saurtabaruta, which were once playgrounds for the Mithran and Taru children, are now infested with treacherous enemies.
Palli remained silent and still. What would happen if his father weren't to return home? What would he do if his friends were to vanish during recess? His mind was blurring with thoughts of horror and fear. As his mother dryed his tears with her weathered garments, his father was falling asleep, and the rest of the children were quickly following suit, laying off to rest in the arms of their brave father.
"It's time you went to sleep, my sweet Pallidamors", she softly spoke into his ear.
No response. His eyes locked onto his father. Unable to console her trembling child, she picked him up, and tucked him into bed. Shortly thereafter, she turned off the lanterns and slunk into her own bed.
Pallidamors was unable to sleep. His fear of his father's, and the rest of his family's safety encompassed his every thought. Slowly, these lofty fears turned into loathsome hatred. His fists clenched tight, and his teeth ground together until they were about to shatter.
"ENOUGH!" he thought to himself. "If the peace and prosperity of my people is to persevere, action must be undertaken!"
Stealthily removing his covers, he snuck out of his home under the cover of night. Though he had no idea how to stifle the attacks, he knew where he had to start...