Residual (Chapter Thirty-Three)
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mindcrackloveOkay, I'm really sorry about this chapter but it's exam week and I'm short on time and stressed. I tried.
Chapter list: http://tanadin.dreamwidth.org/382.html
Map of the continent: http://tanadin.deviantart.com/art/Monstrous-Residual-map-526465833
Character status spreadsheet: https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1yvK6D0XzgjhMNjblFFQaAeJ7JkzdidaLJux1S8qsSUA/edit#gid=1227692709
Chapter Thirty-Three
Kingdom of Traz’madar, Minecraftia. October 5, year 373. Time instance 483Z.
Skera leaned back in her chair, sighing as she glanced between Vechs and Iirkolav.
She could definitely see her father in Vechs, but she could also see some Dallen in him. He very clearly carried many of the usual Davion traits, but the sidelong glance he shot at Iirkolav rang with Dallen.
As for Iirkolav… Only wisps of his black hair remained, and his eyes showed how much he had been through. She wondered about the scar and the mangled left hand, but most of all she wondered about his left leg. She decided not to ask him quite yet, though.
First, she wanted to tell Vechs about herself, and about him.
“I likely already know most of what you’re about to tell us.” Iirkolav warned. “But I would like to listen anyway.”
Skera nodded and looked at Vechs before beginning to speak.
“I was born in the year 253, on October twenty-ninth. My father was Kaltaerion Davion, he that burned Ashwatch to the ground, killed all but one Ashenhorn Skullblade, summoned the forces of the Nether, attempted to take over the world, murdered thousands of people, and drove Oron Faltrion to insanity, taking over her mind enough to make her his…slave, I suppose, and turn her into a ruthless, merciless killer.” Skera hesitated. “She was my mother. But she fell when Kaltaerion fell.
“When I was seven, my parents were defeated and I was judged innocent of guilt. I was allowed to grow up somewhere where I would not be recognized for who I was, so that I would be safe.” She sighed softly. “I only wish they had not killed my parents in front of me, evil or not. I still remembered Kaltaerion’s final words…. ‘The Nether will not close, the Davions will not fall, and you will all burn in your own boiling blood...’”
Skera cleared her throat. “Anyway, after I left that place, not really liking the people there, I became an alchemist. I taught myself a lot, but I learned much from a master alchemist named Peesa. I struck out on my own, away from her when I was about thirty. I met Dallen and, in year 297, had a son that I named Vechs Davion. Unfortunately, the moment that he was born, Dallen abandoned both of us and I was left to care for him.”
Scumbag.
“However, I knew about my family’s history of insanity, and when Vechs was five, I could feel it creeping up on me. I began to search for a place that I could hide him, a place I could leave him in safety so that I couldn’t harm him when I lost my mind. When he was six, I located a small, friendly village in Valtarion. It saddened me, but I was forced to wipe Vechs’s memory and leave him no idea who I was. I dropped him off in the village and watched him for as long as I dared to stay, before retreating back into the Vicious Wilds, where I had learned alchemy in the first place. I saw that he had made friends with a young pigman- presumably your friend Zisteau- but that is all, at least at the time.
“I could brew a potion that would allow me to check up on my son ever couple of months- perhaps that’s what kept me from insanity, as well as my isolation. The last I saw of him…he vanished into a mountain, following his friend that had saved him from death after his transformation into a monster. The potion ran out then, and by the time I could brew another one, all that I could get was black.” Skera closed her eyes and pet Shadeclaw, who had jumped into her lap.
“I thought you were dead.” she said softly. “For fifty years I thought you were dead, until I heard those Hostiles discussing you and their plans. I created a dreamvisiting potion immediately to warn you of their plans once I had recovered from the shock of realizing that you were alive.”
Iirkolav was nodding slightly, knowing this already, but Vechs was somewhat stunned. She had been checking on him? All the way up until the point where he became a worldbuilder?
“Imagine my relief when I realized that you had become a worldbuilder. And imagine how proud I felt to realize what you had done, what you could do.” Skera opened her eyes again, smiling. “You turned out wonderfully, Vechs. I only wish I could have raised you.”
Vechs stood and moved over to hug her tightly, the two Davions embracing for the first time since Skera had sent Vechs off into the village in Valtarion, almost seventy years ago.
Longer than it should have been.
“You need to tell me all about your time as a worldbuilder.” Skera told him when he sat back down. “I want to know what I missed.”
Vechs grinned. “I could go on about that for hours.”
~~~
A howl of laughter, a sudden expansion of flame. Recognizing the source and not believing it.
Wings of flame, creatures from the Nether. Slaughter, blood, screaming.
Fleeing, hiding in the rocks. Watching the murder, the blood.
Being knocked out by the flying rocks.
Being the only survivor. Sunspines coming and rescuing.
If that can be called rescuing, from one hell into another.
Time passes.
An explosion, screaming through the air, hurting ears. Mindnumbing pain, moments later, as the shockwave hits.
Bloodsoaked sand. Searching, searching through the rubble for the only voice responding. Ignoring the only remnants of comrades.
Dragging him out. Limping across the desert, bleeding, supporting the dying man. Get him out. Save his life. That’s all that matters.
End in sight. Almost there, when more pain. The spear causes damage beyond repair. Collapsing. More bloodied sand.
Go, go! Get him out of here! He’s the only one that can be saved.
Rolling over to see the night sky in the final moments of life. At least it’s pretty.
The man descending from the sky in a flash of red lightning. Saying there’s a choice- live or die. Immortal life, or death. The choice for life can be revoked later. The choice for death can’t.
Taking his hand. The instant surge of orange power. Standing up, although there’s no memory of standing. Being taken away in another bolt of red lightning.
Guude, saving the life of Blame the Controller from the sands of the Kalt’onian desert.
Blame jerked awake, breathing heavily. He took a moment to figure out where and when he was.
He was safe. He was okay.
Except he had seen Kaltaerion. He had spoken to Kaltaerion. He was just like Kaltaerion.
No. No, he wasn’t. It hadn’t been Kaltaerion. It had been a Hostile, messing with him, trying to screw him up and trick him.
Well, it worked. Blame sighed and sat up, jumping again when he saw Iirkolav.
The gray-haired man was asleep in a chair, clearly having been watching over Blame. The Skullblade glanced at the clock and noted that it was late.
Well, damn.
He sighed, lying back down.
Iirkolav opened his eyes when Blame settled back down. He hadn’t wanted to talk to the Skullblade at the moment.
He sighed softly and leaned back in his chair. He was troubled, now that the Hostiles had that power source from the other group of worldbuilders.
He had known it would happen, but it was like the ‘easy mode’ switch had been flicked to ‘off.’ They had managed to kill a good fraction of them, but it was nowhere near enough. Saltar’vesque in particular would be troublesome- undoubtedly the loss of his hand was no real setback at all.
Iirkolav drew his sword- the one he had taken from his Blame, the one that had turned red. He frowned at it slightly, still wondering as to its secrets.
How can a blade just change its color and the feeling that it gives off to the one who wields it?
A piece of Vallor’roth.
He sheathed it again, and reached out a hand to touch Blame’s sword, the gray one leaning against his bed.
Blame flipped over and shot out his hand, seizing Iirkolav’s wrist.
“Don’t.” He released the Davion, glaring.
Iirkolav stared. “How did you-“
“Skullblade, that’s how. Get the hell out of my room.”
“Sorry.” Iirkolav mumbled, getting to his feet and walking out of the room.
Step.
Clank.
Step.
Clank.
Sudden regret.
“Wait.” Blame sat up. “I’m sorry. I’m...just touchy. You can stay.”
Iirkolav looked back at him, amused. “Indecisive?”
“Don’t make me shoo you out.”
Iirkolav grinned and clanked back, sitting down in his chair again.
“Do you want to talk about-“
“No.” Blame pulled the blanket over his head.
Iirkolav sighed and nodded.
“I understand that.”
~~~
Aureylian glanced up as Vechs sat next to her, grinning widely.
“How was your time talking to your mom?” she asked, smiling as well. She could see how happy he was, and that made her happy as well.
“It was great!” Vechs hugged her close to him. “I’m so excited to get to know her. I haven’t known anything about myself before age six, and now I do, and I know things about her, and it’s great!” He bounced a little. “Turns out she’s allergic to cats too.”
“She has a cat, though.” Aureylian frowned.
“I also got my love of cats from her.”
Aureylian laughed at him and nudged his shoulder. “You’re both ridiculous.”
Vechs shrugged. “That’s likely. She said she’d like to get to know you a little better, too. She didn’t get to talk to you a lot but she thinks you seem interesting.”
Aureylian paled. “Interesting?”
“Not a bad interesting.” Vechs assured her quickly. “She just wants to get to know you better. That’s a good thing- she doesn’t like people a whole lot.”
Aureylian nodded and smiled at him again. “Okay. I’ll take your word for it.”
“I’m trustworthy.” Vechs grinned evilly. “Honest.”
“You are so not trustworthy.” Aureylian teased, swatting his shoulder. They both laughed and swatted at each other a few times before lying down.
When Vechs closed his eyes to sleep, he reflected that it had been a pretty good day- except maybe for Blame.
Oh well. He could deal with that in the morning.
Chapter list: http://tanadin.dreamwidth.org/382.html
Map of the continent: http://tanadin.deviantart.com/art/Monstrous-Residual-map-526465833
Character status spreadsheet: https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1yvK6D0XzgjhMNjblFFQaAeJ7JkzdidaLJux1S8qsSUA/edit#gid=1227692709
Chapter Thirty-Three
Kingdom of Traz’madar, Minecraftia. October 5, year 373. Time instance 483Z.
Skera leaned back in her chair, sighing as she glanced between Vechs and Iirkolav.
She could definitely see her father in Vechs, but she could also see some Dallen in him. He very clearly carried many of the usual Davion traits, but the sidelong glance he shot at Iirkolav rang with Dallen.
As for Iirkolav… Only wisps of his black hair remained, and his eyes showed how much he had been through. She wondered about the scar and the mangled left hand, but most of all she wondered about his left leg. She decided not to ask him quite yet, though.
First, she wanted to tell Vechs about herself, and about him.
“I likely already know most of what you’re about to tell us.” Iirkolav warned. “But I would like to listen anyway.”
Skera nodded and looked at Vechs before beginning to speak.
“I was born in the year 253, on October twenty-ninth. My father was Kaltaerion Davion, he that burned Ashwatch to the ground, killed all but one Ashenhorn Skullblade, summoned the forces of the Nether, attempted to take over the world, murdered thousands of people, and drove Oron Faltrion to insanity, taking over her mind enough to make her his…slave, I suppose, and turn her into a ruthless, merciless killer.” Skera hesitated. “She was my mother. But she fell when Kaltaerion fell.
“When I was seven, my parents were defeated and I was judged innocent of guilt. I was allowed to grow up somewhere where I would not be recognized for who I was, so that I would be safe.” She sighed softly. “I only wish they had not killed my parents in front of me, evil or not. I still remembered Kaltaerion’s final words…. ‘The Nether will not close, the Davions will not fall, and you will all burn in your own boiling blood...’”
Skera cleared her throat. “Anyway, after I left that place, not really liking the people there, I became an alchemist. I taught myself a lot, but I learned much from a master alchemist named Peesa. I struck out on my own, away from her when I was about thirty. I met Dallen and, in year 297, had a son that I named Vechs Davion. Unfortunately, the moment that he was born, Dallen abandoned both of us and I was left to care for him.”
Scumbag.
“However, I knew about my family’s history of insanity, and when Vechs was five, I could feel it creeping up on me. I began to search for a place that I could hide him, a place I could leave him in safety so that I couldn’t harm him when I lost my mind. When he was six, I located a small, friendly village in Valtarion. It saddened me, but I was forced to wipe Vechs’s memory and leave him no idea who I was. I dropped him off in the village and watched him for as long as I dared to stay, before retreating back into the Vicious Wilds, where I had learned alchemy in the first place. I saw that he had made friends with a young pigman- presumably your friend Zisteau- but that is all, at least at the time.
“I could brew a potion that would allow me to check up on my son ever couple of months- perhaps that’s what kept me from insanity, as well as my isolation. The last I saw of him…he vanished into a mountain, following his friend that had saved him from death after his transformation into a monster. The potion ran out then, and by the time I could brew another one, all that I could get was black.” Skera closed her eyes and pet Shadeclaw, who had jumped into her lap.
“I thought you were dead.” she said softly. “For fifty years I thought you were dead, until I heard those Hostiles discussing you and their plans. I created a dreamvisiting potion immediately to warn you of their plans once I had recovered from the shock of realizing that you were alive.”
Iirkolav was nodding slightly, knowing this already, but Vechs was somewhat stunned. She had been checking on him? All the way up until the point where he became a worldbuilder?
“Imagine my relief when I realized that you had become a worldbuilder. And imagine how proud I felt to realize what you had done, what you could do.” Skera opened her eyes again, smiling. “You turned out wonderfully, Vechs. I only wish I could have raised you.”
Vechs stood and moved over to hug her tightly, the two Davions embracing for the first time since Skera had sent Vechs off into the village in Valtarion, almost seventy years ago.
Longer than it should have been.
“You need to tell me all about your time as a worldbuilder.” Skera told him when he sat back down. “I want to know what I missed.”
Vechs grinned. “I could go on about that for hours.”
~~~
A howl of laughter, a sudden expansion of flame. Recognizing the source and not believing it.
Wings of flame, creatures from the Nether. Slaughter, blood, screaming.
Fleeing, hiding in the rocks. Watching the murder, the blood.
Being knocked out by the flying rocks.
Being the only survivor. Sunspines coming and rescuing.
If that can be called rescuing, from one hell into another.
Time passes.
An explosion, screaming through the air, hurting ears. Mindnumbing pain, moments later, as the shockwave hits.
Bloodsoaked sand. Searching, searching through the rubble for the only voice responding. Ignoring the only remnants of comrades.
Dragging him out. Limping across the desert, bleeding, supporting the dying man. Get him out. Save his life. That’s all that matters.
End in sight. Almost there, when more pain. The spear causes damage beyond repair. Collapsing. More bloodied sand.
Go, go! Get him out of here! He’s the only one that can be saved.
Rolling over to see the night sky in the final moments of life. At least it’s pretty.
The man descending from the sky in a flash of red lightning. Saying there’s a choice- live or die. Immortal life, or death. The choice for life can be revoked later. The choice for death can’t.
Taking his hand. The instant surge of orange power. Standing up, although there’s no memory of standing. Being taken away in another bolt of red lightning.
Guude, saving the life of Blame the Controller from the sands of the Kalt’onian desert.
Blame jerked awake, breathing heavily. He took a moment to figure out where and when he was.
He was safe. He was okay.
Except he had seen Kaltaerion. He had spoken to Kaltaerion. He was just like Kaltaerion.
No. No, he wasn’t. It hadn’t been Kaltaerion. It had been a Hostile, messing with him, trying to screw him up and trick him.
Well, it worked. Blame sighed and sat up, jumping again when he saw Iirkolav.
The gray-haired man was asleep in a chair, clearly having been watching over Blame. The Skullblade glanced at the clock and noted that it was late.
Well, damn.
He sighed, lying back down.
Iirkolav opened his eyes when Blame settled back down. He hadn’t wanted to talk to the Skullblade at the moment.
He sighed softly and leaned back in his chair. He was troubled, now that the Hostiles had that power source from the other group of worldbuilders.
He had known it would happen, but it was like the ‘easy mode’ switch had been flicked to ‘off.’ They had managed to kill a good fraction of them, but it was nowhere near enough. Saltar’vesque in particular would be troublesome- undoubtedly the loss of his hand was no real setback at all.
Iirkolav drew his sword- the one he had taken from his Blame, the one that had turned red. He frowned at it slightly, still wondering as to its secrets.
How can a blade just change its color and the feeling that it gives off to the one who wields it?
A piece of Vallor’roth.
He sheathed it again, and reached out a hand to touch Blame’s sword, the gray one leaning against his bed.
Blame flipped over and shot out his hand, seizing Iirkolav’s wrist.
“Don’t.” He released the Davion, glaring.
Iirkolav stared. “How did you-“
“Skullblade, that’s how. Get the hell out of my room.”
“Sorry.” Iirkolav mumbled, getting to his feet and walking out of the room.
Step.
Clank.
Step.
Clank.
Sudden regret.
“Wait.” Blame sat up. “I’m sorry. I’m...just touchy. You can stay.”
Iirkolav looked back at him, amused. “Indecisive?”
“Don’t make me shoo you out.”
Iirkolav grinned and clanked back, sitting down in his chair again.
“Do you want to talk about-“
“No.” Blame pulled the blanket over his head.
Iirkolav sighed and nodded.
“I understand that.”
~~~
Aureylian glanced up as Vechs sat next to her, grinning widely.
“How was your time talking to your mom?” she asked, smiling as well. She could see how happy he was, and that made her happy as well.
“It was great!” Vechs hugged her close to him. “I’m so excited to get to know her. I haven’t known anything about myself before age six, and now I do, and I know things about her, and it’s great!” He bounced a little. “Turns out she’s allergic to cats too.”
“She has a cat, though.” Aureylian frowned.
“I also got my love of cats from her.”
Aureylian laughed at him and nudged his shoulder. “You’re both ridiculous.”
Vechs shrugged. “That’s likely. She said she’d like to get to know you a little better, too. She didn’t get to talk to you a lot but she thinks you seem interesting.”
Aureylian paled. “Interesting?”
“Not a bad interesting.” Vechs assured her quickly. “She just wants to get to know you better. That’s a good thing- she doesn’t like people a whole lot.”
Aureylian nodded and smiled at him again. “Okay. I’ll take your word for it.”
“I’m trustworthy.” Vechs grinned evilly. “Honest.”
“You are so not trustworthy.” Aureylian teased, swatting his shoulder. They both laughed and swatted at each other a few times before lying down.
When Vechs closed his eyes to sleep, he reflected that it had been a pretty good day- except maybe for Blame.
Oh well. He could deal with that in the morning.
no subject
Date: Tuesday, June 2nd, 2015 04:38 am (UTC)G.C. (::)(::)(::)(::)(::)(::)(::)
no subject
Date: Tuesday, June 2nd, 2015 04:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Tuesday, June 2nd, 2015 04:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Tuesday, June 2nd, 2015 08:11 am (UTC)Great chapter!
no subject
Date: Tuesday, June 2nd, 2015 06:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Tuesday, June 2nd, 2015 02:33 pm (UTC)Nice to know the backstory of all this, and to have (at least some of it) cleared up.
Also, Vechs, you seriously need to get better about not dealing with stuff in the morning.
For my only actual writing-type comment on this: I find it interesting how you used colors to briefly describe things during Blame's flashback. I don't actually have much experience in that area myself, though I think it could really be a good way to shorten descriptions in situations like that (though having its own shortcomings).
no subject
Date: Tuesday, June 2nd, 2015 05:30 pm (UTC)Vechs is a procrastinator. XD
The flashback was meant to be pretty vague anyway. :3
no subject
Date: Tuesday, June 2nd, 2015 03:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Tuesday, June 2nd, 2015 06:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Wednesday, June 3rd, 2015 02:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Tuesday, June 2nd, 2015 03:36 pm (UTC)And yay for a happy chapter (mostly)
The bit about the war was v. well written, and was very interesting to read.
Keep up the good work tana ^^
(See, I waited till I was HOME FROM SCHOOL to read it. I didn't stay up. Aren't you proud?!? :p)
no subject
Date: Tuesday, June 2nd, 2015 06:25 pm (UTC)So proud. XD
no subject
Date: Wednesday, June 3rd, 2015 05:48 am (UTC)