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It is finished. So, without further ado, I bring you draft one of:
Introspection Upon Expedition
They are dead. You know they're dead. You embraced the crumbling, blackened remains of their skeletons where you found them in the middle of that decimation you used to call your hometown. You held them one last time, tears running down your cheek, carving channels in their carbonized flesh. Gone. No bringing them back. So why are you on this insane quest? Revenge? You're certainly not going to save them with that.
Though, perhaps you can't be completely blamed; it was Justin who suggested this possibility of purposeful destruction. Justin... you've only just met him and already he's trying to wedge himself into the group. Were it not for your dire circumstances – “We need a room for the night, and we don't have any more money. Perhaps he could help us there,” your exact words – you'd not even be lying in this dungeon of a basement. You'd have left him in front of that beach cabana, rambling on about how Stephen was supposed to help him or some nonsense. How was Stephen supposed to help anyone with magic? You remember that one time, when the street-performing magician came to town and he kept botching all his tricks whenever Stephen was around? Yeah, like he could help anyone along that vein.
Even his house was a lie; sure, you're staying in the concrete bunker underground, but you saw what he passed off as his real living quarters. You should have known nothing could possibly live in such squalor. No wonder the magic community hates his guts; he's probably lied about a lot more things.
So why did you trust him enough to follow him to his house? Why do you trust what he says about the fire? It puts a face on their deaths, that's why. You know it's why. Admit it; you found comfort in the fact that your parents died on purpose. Oh, isn't that it? Then what is that moisture running down your left cheek as you clench your eyes shut, trying to shut out the world and shut up your thoughts, inevitably spiraling towards the truth you know to be real – this trek has no purpose.
You're going to get to Feuerschloss – if that's even where this perpetrator is, though it fits both what Justin claimed and you witnessed – you're going to kill whatever tenants you find, and it will be glorious and bloody – just like their deaths. You'll be just like them, then; killing without purpose, without reason, without logic. There certainly wasn't any logic behind what happened.
Why are you on this journey? Why couldn't you have just stayed in Chartreuse or Topaz, wiling away the years as an old hermit, never speaking to people again? You wouldn't have to kill. There'd be no need for revenge. You'd be secluded, forgetting and repressing all that you saw – it was just two days ago, wasn't it? – happily ever after. You could live with yourself then – not a murderer, not a warrior, just a simple man with simple ways, living out the rest of his long, long life.
Remember what happened that morning? You were so excited at even the prospect of spending the day hunting with Stephen; you wanted so badly to try out your new longsword, to show off for him. So you woke up extra early, got ready, and ran down to his house as fast as you could. He was still asleep, or so you reasoned when he didn't come to the door. That's right, you broke his window trying to wake him up; you threw that odd rock just a little too hard. Woke him up, though. Heh, you didn't even hardly care that you did it, so long as he was willing to go. And he was; oh, when you heard him agree how your heart leaped in your chest at the anticipation, the excitement. You would have had that buck, too, had it not been frightened away by whatever is was...
At least John was willing to help out, for whatever reason – it couldn't have been hometown loyalty, since he so readily shed that when he moved to set up a shop. Did he only do it out of duty to family? Why are you looking for excuses to hate him so much? Why can't you trust him? John had the sense, the initiative to start his own business when his parents passed away. He was intelligent enough to set up shop in a larger town. His network of trade for various merchandise and subsequent knowledge made him the best-suited man for this kind of journey. He's Stephen's brother, for goodness sake. What more do you need? Just because he's human, you want to distance yourself? Stephen's just as human as he is. You yourself have a human fathe-- err, had. Go ahead, sob quietly into your arms; that way if John ever notices or finds out, he can just humiliate you.
Then there was the plane crash. You really lucked out there, surviving that. What's more, you happened to wash up on just the shore you were trying to get to in the first place. It even helped Justin formulate a possible explanation for what had been happening, when you ran into him at the cabana. You have trouble trusting even him, don't you? He's full-blooded elf, yet doesn't seem to have any connection whatsoever with nature. Well, that's not true; he did say he knew of Stephen from his dreams, so that's at least some connection, odd as it is. But then, there's the complete lie of a lifestyle he's living; that lowered his reputation in your eyes as soon as you realized what it was.
This bunker, while not exactly clean, was definitely more-so than upstairs. The walls of fading gray trapped the musty rotten smell of old parchment in the stale air, not entirely unpleasant but unusual enough to be disheartening. The large stone altar in the center of the room Justin “liberated” from the ruins of River City stood stoically; it seemed highly unlikely something that obviously solid would suddenly morph another facet, but Justin insisted that's what happened, and what gave him the idea that something destroyed their town on purpose, hailing from that castle. The map of the world, displaying the same markings as the altar, was probably still laying atop it; the one thing that strung together Justin's story continuously, that map is what convinced Stephen that Justin might be on to something.
What's that sound? Oh, just Stephen snoring. Glad he's at least getting some sleep. Then again, it's not like he lost anyone in the fire – you were both out hunting, so he didn't lose you, and his brother had set up shop in Chartreuse many years ago when their parents died. So, what was his purpose? Why was he joining you on this quest? It certainly wasn't for revenge. Did he know more than he led on? It wouldn't be unlike him; he always did seem to know more about any given situation than he should have. But what does he know? Does he know that he knows? Does he realize his complete comfort and acceptance of this whole thing makes you uneasy? Fearful, even?
Fearful? Yes, you didn't notice it before, but it's true – you're afraid of him, aren't you? Afraid of his calm, his nonchalance, his cold calculating acknowledgment of everything that was going on. You've known him since his early childhood, and never before had you imagined he'd ever become like this. Has he matured? Is this what happens when you grow up?
Maybe that's your purpose – you want to get yourself killed so you don't grow up to be like that. But, then again, what if that calm comfort is a good thing? What if it helps you realize your full potential against this enemy? Heh, there you go again about the enemy. You don't even know what this enemy is, yet you're scared shit-less of it. Though, it did bring ruin upon a town in a matter of seconds. You've got every right to be afraid of it. If, that is, it's what killed your parents.
There's no doubt in your mind anymore, is there. It definitely did it. True, they were just bystanders as far as whatever that... thing was was concerned, but they're dead now as a result. And you cowered under a hollow tree until it passed over again. You coward. That's why you're on this quest – you want to prove you're not a pissant. Sure, you've got your sword – you're quite the big man with your sword, aren't you? You know what happens to the coward in these stories, right? They die. You are going to die. You're going to be scared as hell, turn your back to run away, and be struck down where you stand. Oh God. You shouldn't be here. You should leave. Now. Before you hinder this. Go. Your fear is only going to--
“Angelo.” Stephen. But, he's asleep, isn't he? “Angelo, calm down... shh...”
“How can you expect me to calm down? They died, Stephen! I'm afraid... afraid of what that thing is going to do to me!” The meager sheets are your only comfort as you squeeze the hell out of them, tears collecting again.
“Shh, don't worry about it. It's perfectly fine to be scared. I know I put on a big-man face of fearlessness and bravery, but that's just a mask. To be honest, I'm just as afraid of this as you are.”
The snot running down your nose is just uncomfortable enough to make you sniff it back in; that's just sick. “... Really?”
“Really. And you don't think Justin or John are frightened, either? Look at them! Justin's a bloody chicken; that much is obvious from the facade put on upstairs with the mangled mendacity of a house. And seriously, wouldn't I know my own brother?”
“Maybe you do, but I--”
“Trust me on this, Angelo. The guy's a scaredy-cat.”
Hard to imagine John being afraid of anything; he's such a meanie. The image of him running away from anything – go ahead and chuckle; it's funny. “But then how will we--”
“Shh, don't worry about that now. We'll do it, and it'll be spectacular. Justin said he's going to help us do research, remember? We'll find a way, most definitely.”
“Stephen...”
“Yes?”
“... thank you.”
“Don't worry about it. Now get some sleep; we've got a long journey ahead of us, and you'll need your strength.”
Sleep. Yes, that sounds like a good idea...
“--elo! Oi, pointy-ears!” Wha... light? What time is it? Where are you? Oh right, Justin's basement. Is that John's voice? “Angelo! Get your lazy ass off the floor so we can get a move on!” Definitely John.
“I'm up, I'm up, stop yelling already.” Are you the last one awake? Looks like it; Stephen and Justin are both already putting away their sheets, and John is obviously awake. Stephen... was that a smile of understanding? Get up, you crazy little half-elf; today's going to behold an exciting new adventure, you just know it.
Introspection Upon Expedition
They are dead. You know they're dead. You embraced the crumbling, blackened remains of their skeletons where you found them in the middle of that decimation you used to call your hometown. You held them one last time, tears running down your cheek, carving channels in their carbonized flesh. Gone. No bringing them back. So why are you on this insane quest? Revenge? You're certainly not going to save them with that.
Though, perhaps you can't be completely blamed; it was Justin who suggested this possibility of purposeful destruction. Justin... you've only just met him and already he's trying to wedge himself into the group. Were it not for your dire circumstances – “We need a room for the night, and we don't have any more money. Perhaps he could help us there,” your exact words – you'd not even be lying in this dungeon of a basement. You'd have left him in front of that beach cabana, rambling on about how Stephen was supposed to help him or some nonsense. How was Stephen supposed to help anyone with magic? You remember that one time, when the street-performing magician came to town and he kept botching all his tricks whenever Stephen was around? Yeah, like he could help anyone along that vein.
Even his house was a lie; sure, you're staying in the concrete bunker underground, but you saw what he passed off as his real living quarters. You should have known nothing could possibly live in such squalor. No wonder the magic community hates his guts; he's probably lied about a lot more things.
So why did you trust him enough to follow him to his house? Why do you trust what he says about the fire? It puts a face on their deaths, that's why. You know it's why. Admit it; you found comfort in the fact that your parents died on purpose. Oh, isn't that it? Then what is that moisture running down your left cheek as you clench your eyes shut, trying to shut out the world and shut up your thoughts, inevitably spiraling towards the truth you know to be real – this trek has no purpose.
You're going to get to Feuerschloss – if that's even where this perpetrator is, though it fits both what Justin claimed and you witnessed – you're going to kill whatever tenants you find, and it will be glorious and bloody – just like their deaths. You'll be just like them, then; killing without purpose, without reason, without logic. There certainly wasn't any logic behind what happened.
Why are you on this journey? Why couldn't you have just stayed in Chartreuse or Topaz, wiling away the years as an old hermit, never speaking to people again? You wouldn't have to kill. There'd be no need for revenge. You'd be secluded, forgetting and repressing all that you saw – it was just two days ago, wasn't it? – happily ever after. You could live with yourself then – not a murderer, not a warrior, just a simple man with simple ways, living out the rest of his long, long life.
Remember what happened that morning? You were so excited at even the prospect of spending the day hunting with Stephen; you wanted so badly to try out your new longsword, to show off for him. So you woke up extra early, got ready, and ran down to his house as fast as you could. He was still asleep, or so you reasoned when he didn't come to the door. That's right, you broke his window trying to wake him up; you threw that odd rock just a little too hard. Woke him up, though. Heh, you didn't even hardly care that you did it, so long as he was willing to go. And he was; oh, when you heard him agree how your heart leaped in your chest at the anticipation, the excitement. You would have had that buck, too, had it not been frightened away by whatever is was...
At least John was willing to help out, for whatever reason – it couldn't have been hometown loyalty, since he so readily shed that when he moved to set up a shop. Did he only do it out of duty to family? Why are you looking for excuses to hate him so much? Why can't you trust him? John had the sense, the initiative to start his own business when his parents passed away. He was intelligent enough to set up shop in a larger town. His network of trade for various merchandise and subsequent knowledge made him the best-suited man for this kind of journey. He's Stephen's brother, for goodness sake. What more do you need? Just because he's human, you want to distance yourself? Stephen's just as human as he is. You yourself have a human fathe-- err, had. Go ahead, sob quietly into your arms; that way if John ever notices or finds out, he can just humiliate you.
Then there was the plane crash. You really lucked out there, surviving that. What's more, you happened to wash up on just the shore you were trying to get to in the first place. It even helped Justin formulate a possible explanation for what had been happening, when you ran into him at the cabana. You have trouble trusting even him, don't you? He's full-blooded elf, yet doesn't seem to have any connection whatsoever with nature. Well, that's not true; he did say he knew of Stephen from his dreams, so that's at least some connection, odd as it is. But then, there's the complete lie of a lifestyle he's living; that lowered his reputation in your eyes as soon as you realized what it was.
This bunker, while not exactly clean, was definitely more-so than upstairs. The walls of fading gray trapped the musty rotten smell of old parchment in the stale air, not entirely unpleasant but unusual enough to be disheartening. The large stone altar in the center of the room Justin “liberated” from the ruins of River City stood stoically; it seemed highly unlikely something that obviously solid would suddenly morph another facet, but Justin insisted that's what happened, and what gave him the idea that something destroyed their town on purpose, hailing from that castle. The map of the world, displaying the same markings as the altar, was probably still laying atop it; the one thing that strung together Justin's story continuously, that map is what convinced Stephen that Justin might be on to something.
What's that sound? Oh, just Stephen snoring. Glad he's at least getting some sleep. Then again, it's not like he lost anyone in the fire – you were both out hunting, so he didn't lose you, and his brother had set up shop in Chartreuse many years ago when their parents died. So, what was his purpose? Why was he joining you on this quest? It certainly wasn't for revenge. Did he know more than he led on? It wouldn't be unlike him; he always did seem to know more about any given situation than he should have. But what does he know? Does he know that he knows? Does he realize his complete comfort and acceptance of this whole thing makes you uneasy? Fearful, even?
Fearful? Yes, you didn't notice it before, but it's true – you're afraid of him, aren't you? Afraid of his calm, his nonchalance, his cold calculating acknowledgment of everything that was going on. You've known him since his early childhood, and never before had you imagined he'd ever become like this. Has he matured? Is this what happens when you grow up?
Maybe that's your purpose – you want to get yourself killed so you don't grow up to be like that. But, then again, what if that calm comfort is a good thing? What if it helps you realize your full potential against this enemy? Heh, there you go again about the enemy. You don't even know what this enemy is, yet you're scared shit-less of it. Though, it did bring ruin upon a town in a matter of seconds. You've got every right to be afraid of it. If, that is, it's what killed your parents.
There's no doubt in your mind anymore, is there. It definitely did it. True, they were just bystanders as far as whatever that... thing was was concerned, but they're dead now as a result. And you cowered under a hollow tree until it passed over again. You coward. That's why you're on this quest – you want to prove you're not a pissant. Sure, you've got your sword – you're quite the big man with your sword, aren't you? You know what happens to the coward in these stories, right? They die. You are going to die. You're going to be scared as hell, turn your back to run away, and be struck down where you stand. Oh God. You shouldn't be here. You should leave. Now. Before you hinder this. Go. Your fear is only going to--
“Angelo.” Stephen. But, he's asleep, isn't he? “Angelo, calm down... shh...”
“How can you expect me to calm down? They died, Stephen! I'm afraid... afraid of what that thing is going to do to me!” The meager sheets are your only comfort as you squeeze the hell out of them, tears collecting again.
“Shh, don't worry about it. It's perfectly fine to be scared. I know I put on a big-man face of fearlessness and bravery, but that's just a mask. To be honest, I'm just as afraid of this as you are.”
The snot running down your nose is just uncomfortable enough to make you sniff it back in; that's just sick. “... Really?”
“Really. And you don't think Justin or John are frightened, either? Look at them! Justin's a bloody chicken; that much is obvious from the facade put on upstairs with the mangled mendacity of a house. And seriously, wouldn't I know my own brother?”
“Maybe you do, but I--”
“Trust me on this, Angelo. The guy's a scaredy-cat.”
Hard to imagine John being afraid of anything; he's such a meanie. The image of him running away from anything – go ahead and chuckle; it's funny. “But then how will we--”
“Shh, don't worry about that now. We'll do it, and it'll be spectacular. Justin said he's going to help us do research, remember? We'll find a way, most definitely.”
“Stephen...”
“Yes?”
“... thank you.”
“Don't worry about it. Now get some sleep; we've got a long journey ahead of us, and you'll need your strength.”
Sleep. Yes, that sounds like a good idea...
“--elo! Oi, pointy-ears!” Wha... light? What time is it? Where are you? Oh right, Justin's basement. Is that John's voice? “Angelo! Get your lazy ass off the floor so we can get a move on!” Definitely John.
“I'm up, I'm up, stop yelling already.” Are you the last one awake? Looks like it; Stephen and Justin are both already putting away their sheets, and John is obviously awake. Stephen... was that a smile of understanding? Get up, you crazy little half-elf; today's going to behold an exciting new adventure, you just know it.
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