Goldcrest

Goldcrest had asked me to tell a story about myself, a personal story this time.

While I have a lot of interesting tales to tell, the ones that are more personal are difficult.

My friends and I were sitting around a campfire one night. (These were the days where I was wandering and essentially homeless. I did anything for a copper. I stole, I gambled, I did small jobs and large jobs. I sometimes went hungry or ate from rubbish cans. I ran with a group of criminals who were much the same.)

And my friends and I were exchanging stories.
"What was the worst thing you ever lifted?" My burly friend asked. "As in, worthless. Couldn't squeeze a silver from it."
"That's easy," Said another. "There was once I broke into this old ladies house. I figured that an old woman would have something of value. I got in, and there was nothing but cats. Cats everywhere. So, I grabbed one."
"You stole a cat?" I asked in disbelief.

He nodded, and prodded the camp fire. It sparked and hissed back to life. "The stupid cat bit me about fifty times. I was never able to sell it."
"So, that's how you got your cat?" I laughed, and he nodded. We fell silent again, all of us amused about the origin story of our friend's feline companion.

"What about you?" I asked my other friend. He paused and scratched his ruddy, dirty beard and smiled. "What's the most worthless thing you ever stole?"

"Wasn't so much stole." He answered quietly. "As took. I took it. This girl's virginity! Was a year ago. The foreman's daughter, when I was working construction on the road running out from Booty Bay."
We all laughed at the lewd joke, although we knew he was completely serious.
"But, that isn't worthless." Another one of my criminal friend's pointed out. "Good, clean pussy. Always worth like, a million gold."

"Oh, it was worthless." He said gravely. "I now occasionally get bumps on my lips, because of her."

"...She probably wasn't a virgin, genius." I pointed out sagely. The entire group exploded into laughter. You could hear the joyous, loud, masculine peels across the entire beach, carrying through the night.

After the laughter slowly died down, my ruddy bearded friend looked at me. Another log was tossed onto the fire, and more liquor was passed around.

"What about you, Kia? What was the most worthless thing you ever stole?" He wondered.

I paused and thought and considered the question. "These." I said, removing two chiming stress balls from my pocket. "Yesterday, actually." I said darkly. One ball was black, and the other was white. There was no ornamentation, however they tinkled softly like little bells when rolled in the hand. "I thought they were made from ivory and could get a gold or two. I took them to an appraiser. And they're nothing. I went to a lot of trouble to get them. I listened to this old crone go on and on for hours. Babbling about shit. She was an employee from the Darkmoon Faire. She was just an elderly, lonely woman who wanted to bend someone's ear for a while. I swiped them on the way out. Payment for my troubles. Completely worthless." I complained with annoyance. Then, I tugged from the liquor bottle.

"Let me see them." My friend to my left said.
I offered them to him.

My friend examined the chiming stress balls, rolling them in his hand. They tolled like small silver bells as they moved and twirled in his palm. I watched in silence as he twisted and turned the stress balls in his hand. We were silent and watched the fire burn itself out. We drank and sat after the conversation came to a lull, merely enjoying one another's company to fend off the darkness of night and loneliness we felt. We continued to drink until every bottle was dry.
Someone mentioned something about the fire needing more wood as it was on the verge of death.

My friend then grunted and threw the white stress ball into the smoldering ashes.

The fire came to life, spurting like a small volcano. From the flames the vision of a bird rose. She was made of ornate orange and gold, every feather burned. The bird screeched and called out as she rose to the stars. We were all in a shock and panic. I was the only one who did not run.
I watched until the phoenix dissipated into the darkness. Ashes flowed from her magnificently long tail. After a while, she was gone and all that was left was a roaring fire and scattered embers that sparkled in the sand.

I found the black stress ball and tossed it in. I am not sure why, but I did. Perhaps it was because I was slightly drunk, or maybe I was curious and a little self-destructive. I did not know what to expect to happen. Yet, nothing did. I stood there, alone, and watched as silence consumed the night. There was no burst of light nor magic igniting from the fire.

I fell asleep on the beach shortly after.

When I awoke, the fire had burnt itself out. I shifted through the ashes. I found the remains of the white stress ball, cracked, broken, and nothing but cinders.
I also found the remains of the black stress ball, broken in two and not burnt. Like two pieces of obsidian  they were cold to the touch. Whatever it was had hatched and escaped.

I swiftly left then. I was not sure what was the opposite of a phoenix, but I knew I did not want to stick around and find out. Whatever had escaped from the ashes was now free, black and undying and unleashed upon the world. Maybe in our hearts, but certainly smoldering in the fires of the soul.

The end

To Nikklaus

It was grander than any comet, and far more beautiful than a shooting star. The bright streak sliced across the night sky as if it was to render the world in two. Nikk followed it, but then, so did everyone.

Everyone in town chased the white, glittering line that dazzled the evening. The crowd ran north, while he headed west. He was alone when he traveled through a grove of broken tress and scorched earth.
When he finally found it, all hope of gold had left his eyes. Nikk had assumed he would have stumbled across a piece of the heavens and would have been able to sell it to the highest bidder on the black market, or to perhaps a collector.
There was a small smoldering crater where it had landed.
He did not find a stone, but instead a small girl perched on a rock. She was crying.

She was so pale she was nearly translucent, with hair that was a pearl white. Each curl shimmered with every color of the rainbow. She was nude except for a small robe that seemed to have torn in several places from the branches. What was most startling about her was her magnificent wings. Each feather had a sheen that caused it difficult to focus his eyes upon. Like a mirage, sometimes it appeared as if she had a dozen wings, other times it was just the wilted two. Each wing was brighter than the moon and just as as large.

"Hey." He said as he stumbled across the warm crater to the winged girl on the rock. He spoke hesitantly, as if she were a frightened animal that needed to be calmed.

The girl sniffed and lifted her porcelain face.

"What... what are you?" It may have seemed like an offensive question, but he was a blunt man and didn't know what else to ask. A part of him told him to flee.

"What's it look like?" She wept. He climbed upon the rock beside her as she answered him. She motioned with a fluid arm to the sky. "I'm a fallen angel."

He blinked at her, unsure what to say. "Why are you crying?" he asked.

She looked at him with a deadpan expression. Even in the milky light with a perfectly angelic face, he knew that she thought he was stupid.

"Because," She hissed. "I can't go back. Ever. I've fallen." She paused and buried her face in her hands. She sobbed a heart-wrenching, dreadful wail. He sat there stupidly until she was ready to speak again. With her face still buried in her palms she asked him, "Who're you?"

"I'm Nikk." He then pointed vaguely to the east, "I live in the city over there. I could take you, if you want. Get you some clothes. Something to eat."

"I don't wear your clothes and I don't eat your food." She snarled, "I'm an angel."

Silence sat between them for what could have been eternity. Nikk listened to the crickets sing, undisturbed, unknowing that a piece of the divine had fallen and walked among them. He too, felt small. How could one contemplate something so god-like, perfect and huge sit beside him? She was a sun in the darkness, emitting her own small, quiet light. She was an angel, he thought, and he knew it to be true.

"...Why did you fall?" he asked finally. She seemed to have been waiting for the question.

"You wouldn't understand." She replied softly, patiently, in a sigh. "And I can't go back."

"What if you redeem yourself?" He asked, clinging to a small bit of hope. Seeing a sad, weeping angel broke his heart a little every time he chanced a look at her. He kept his eyes forward and his feet swinging, as if they were two children sitting on the docks on a warm summer night.

"Redemption." She echoed. She then smeared away the last of her tears on her cheeks before she looked at him. He could feel the press of her stare from her molten silver eyes. "How do you redeem yourself, Nikk? Have you ever found redemption in your life?"

Nikk paused for a long time to consider the question. When he finally answered, he felt smaller. It was strange. Most of the time in his life he carried himself with a cocksure attitude and a half smile. Around her, he could hide nothing. With a mere stolen glance the angel could see through him.

"I tried." He croaked. "Once."

"And what happened?" the angel asked. Her wings brushed his side and he could feel an icy chill followed by  a slow, soothing burn. The pain snapped through him with a coarse of pleasure, as if his muscles suddenly eased by the breath of her feathers.

"I... well. There was this girl," He said, feeling foolish. "And I loved her. But, I was with someone else. I cheated on her. I broke her heart. I apologized, but she didn't accept it. I did everything I could to make it up to her, to redeem myself. But, the damage was done." He said back on his palms and exhaled. "I even asked her if there was anything I could do to make up what I did. It was too late."

"Ah." The angel said. "See, there is no redemption. Only change. Redemption is for the selfish. People seek redemption only to make THEMSELVES feel better once they have wronged someone. When you do something, you can apologize, and even feel truly sorry. But, there is no turning back what you have done. You can't undo anything. Ever."

"So, there is no going back for you?" Nikk wondered as he continued swinging his legs off the edge of the stone.

She paused for a while, her wings gliding back and forth. At times, he thought the feathers were small eyes that slowly opened and closed. Other times, they were tongues of a thousand flames. When he blinked, they were white down feathers once more.

"...No." She said in a near whisper, "Once innocence is lost, it can never truly be regained. I can try repenting, I can smear ashes on my face and speak only honey on my lips. I can travel the seas of a burning cinder pit and purify myself."

"But...?" Nikk wondered.

She shook her head. "But, nothing. Our actions were known before they were done. He knew I was going to rebel. It was all part of His ineffable plan. Redemption will do nothing. It was meant. We change. We all change. Everything changes, nothing is lost. The same is to you, Nikk." She said as she looked at him meaningfully.

"So, what happens then?"

"The best redemption or salvation we can find is meaning." She said as she slid herself from the rock. He noticed that her feet never quite touched the clay.

He blinked at her as she began to walk away. The shadows of the forest consumed her. She glanced over her shoulder as she gradually began to fade away. The bars and pillars of the trees seemed to consume her.

"Wait." He said as he, too, climbed down from the rock. Patiently, she stood. He could see the darkness of the forest through her skin as she began to evaporate into the world.

"How do I find meaning in my life?" He asked as he stepped forward. But, even as he approached he could see that she was no longer tangible and was almost completely translucent. If he reached out and touched her, she would have been as intangible as a ghost.

"You fall." She said softly, her voice carrying in the mist of the air. "And then, you get up again. You may not fly, but you get up. Get up, Nikk."

When he opened his mouth to yell at her that he did not understand, she was gone.
Nikk looked around at the broken forest of trees and the crater that was left behind. He sat up on the rock, the same rock that he and the angel were perched. He sat there until dawn began to bleed from the sky.

A villager came, and then two, and then four. They searched the area for a stone. When they found nothing, they demanded that Nikk had stolen it. He denied it. Eventually, they left, bitter and empty handed.
Cold and tired, Nikk decided to return home himself. He slowly stood, stiff, hollow, and exhausted.
As he rose, a small feather drifted out from under him.

He caught it. It had the same soft, mother-of-pearl sheen to it as the angel's wing. He smiled to himself and pocketed it, leaving an oddly warm feeling against his leg.
At times, the feather would burn like a lash of fire, or blink at him like a third eye. It eased him, calmed him, and gave him a sense of understanding.
It would never bring him salvation, but he remembered to get up when he fell, even if he had tumbled far from the sparkled heavens of perfection.

Yet another story

So, I was asked the other day, "Whatever happened to the fire elemental princess, Kiaphus?" from Goldcrest, who heard my story.

The fire princess, who was the only truly free elemental in the world.

The short answer is, a lot of things. She had traveled and seen many adventures.
However, she was destined for a difficult life. Her powerful and cruel father, the Fire Lord, soon found out that the magician boy did not sacrifice her, and she had run away to be free.

She fled, and her father sent an army of other elementals to search for her and bring her home. But in the end, she knew she could not run forever. For no matter how far she went or how obscure a place she found, there was nowhere that she could live and where fire could not reach. She could not hide on land, for fire consumes all things on the ground and they could find her easily. She could not live comfortably in the air, for the winds cut through her flame-skin.and she certainly could not live in the sea, for the water could destroy her.

Lost to despair, the princess sought a more permanent and more drastic solution. To keep her freedom, she must become something other than what she was. She would need to trade the flame-skin of a fire elemental and become human.

So, she went to the old crone. She was a witch who lived near a lake of lava, and was said to be older than the stars and more powerful and wise than any mortal. The witch sat in front of her stone cottage home, turning a spit with a worg haunch for her dinner. The witch told her that if she retrieved a magical down feather, she would be able to cast a spell turning the flame-princess human.

The flame-princess did not delay and went to find the feather off of a giant thunder-bird that lived in the tallest peaks of the world. The thunder-birds were wise and ancient, and gods among the birds. They were magical and listened to her tale of fear and woe. And, were all too willing to help. They gave her the feather she desired.

She returned to the witch and presented her with the spell component to make her human. But, the witch betrayed her. All this time, the feather was the final ingredient the witch needed to turn the princess into a sheep so she could easily transport her back to her father. Using the thunder-bird's feather, the witched turned the princess into a small, helpless sheep. The Fire Lord promised the witch endless power for the cost of returning his daughter.

The witch and the princess-that-was-now-a-sheep traveled across huge stretching planes and across winding rivers to get to the Flame Kingdom. The princess saw her opportunity to escape when a shepherd was crossing the road with his massive flock of sheep. The princess leaped from the witch's wagon and lost herself in the crowd.

The princess lived among the sheep for several days, grazing and socializing with the flock. Yet, she was not happy as a sheep. Sheep tend to gossip and have nothing important to say or do. She wandered away from the shepherd.

Then, an eagle came and swept her up in his talons. She was alone, and sheep that wander from their flock were fair game to predators. The eagle took her back to his nest to shred her with his claws and feed her to his young. The princess cried out in fear. "I am not a sheep!" She implored. "I am a flame-princess!"
Not knowing what to do, the eagle took her to the thunder-birds to decide her fate.

Once more, the princess told the thunder-birds of the betrayal of the witch and how much further away she was from her goal to become human. She wanted only her freedom, and nothing else. Now, as a sheep, she was in even more danger than before and far less happy. The thunder-birds listened, and deliberated.

Although they did not have the power to make her human, they could give her the freedom she wanted in another way. She could soar in the air and taste the sky on her wings, and be free from her father forever. They took her among their people, turning her into a thunder-bird. She would remain powerful, like a fire-elemental. And nothing was more free than a bird.
She lived to be old and wise. The tribal humans of the planes prayed to her. When she sang, her voice cracked out in lightening. When she flew, her wings drummed in thunder. The air elementals bowed to her, and she was never troubled again.

The end

A small story

Another story, you ask. Another encore. You exhaust me. But, fine. This one is a far more upbeat tale than the one before.

In the old days, boys had to woo the girls they loved through acts of bravery and heroics.
There was one such boy who was all but incapable of such things. He was small and skinny, and lacked any hair on his chin. But, he was a clever boy. He was interested in magic.

It was not the sort of magic of warlocks and mages. He actually had no talent there, either. He enjoyed tricks, slight-of-hand and optical illusions. He had his sights set on the fairest girl in the city.
She was tow-headed and fair skinned. She was a beautiful girl who had her choice of any male in town. When the boy came and asked for her hand in marriage-- she laughed at him.

She jokingly told him she would only marry him if he was able to bring her a vial of actual magic. But, not just any magic, she wanted a pure and volatile element, the essence of what makes up the World. She either wanted the Breath of the Wind, the Tears of the Water, the Core of the Earth, or the Embers of Fire.
Mockingly, she sneered and went away.

The boy was challenged, but willing to try. He left her a love note written on one of his trick playing cards-- the Ace of Rogues, to be exact. He told her he would find one of the elements to prove his love. He left it unsigned, but nailed it to her door knowing that she would know it was one of his cards.

The boy first traveled to the Palace of the Earth, far below. He spoke to the Prince of Stones and explained his plight. He asked for one of the Prince's elements to show his intent to his lady love. But, the Prince of Stones was a hard man and refused. He told the boy he was too soft and that love would not move his heart.

Then, the boy traveled to the Sky World to speak to the Princess of Clouds. He begged and pleaded her to relinquish an elemental into his custody to show his heart to the girl. The Princess of Clouds was sympathetic, and told the boy that his air was true. Yet, the elements of air always remain free.

Undeterred, he went to the Planes of the Ocean. He swam through great length and rode the sea creatures to speak to the Emperor of Water. With the use of an enchanted shell, he spoke through the depth of the sea and requested an elemental to accompany him to the dry lands above. He politely made his argument on why he needed the assistance to help him woo the most beautiful girl in the world. But, the Emperor was a logical man, and knew that none of his people would survive. He needed to protect his water elementals, and told the boy to be on his way.

Lastly, the boy went to the spiked, scorched volcano that was the Kingdom of Flame. It was a horrid place where everything was burned and ash. He addressed the Lord of Fire, who was known to be a cruel man. When the boy bravely told him what he wanted, the Lord of Fire laughed in his face. "Of course. I will relinquish one of my elementals to you. But, know this. Proving your true love will kill my daughter. Take her with you, and if you truly love this woman, capture my daughter in this magic vial in front of your woman. Your lady will see that you have proved yourself in blood and flame."

The boy escorted the Lord of Fire's daughter to his city with the magic vial in hand. Throughout the entire journey, he was torn. He did not wish to kill anyone. The Lord's daughter, too, did not wish to die-- but she was in no place to contest her father's wishes. Then, the boy had an idea.

He knocked on the door of his lady love. When the girl answered, he told her he had the Fire elemental she had requested. He would place her in the vial, too, in a great show of genuine magic.
With his cloak, he preformed the greatest and largest slight-of-hand trick. It was all illusion and grandeur; and with a flicker, the daughter of the Fire Lord was gone, and the vial was filled with smoke, ashes, and fire.

He handed the warm vial to his love. She was surprised and astonished by how he truly captured an element of the world and went through the trials and tribulations to prove himself a man. She agreed to marry him.

The elemental lived free from the torment of her father and was not sacrificed by the boy. To this day, it is said she is the only free elemental of the world, burning in passion with her own will.

A short tale

((Wyrmrest Accord))

Another story?

Well. There is one other. A tragedy, really. Not... a comedy. A very sad story, but. I hear it is a true story. Sometimes the saddest things in life are the true things.

There once was a gnomish couple. The man was elderly, and lived his life with a love of all things mechanical. He was like most gnomes in that way, except he was brilliant. His machines never blew up or malfunctioned. They were beautiful gems of art and function.

What he was most passionate about was recreating life. Improving it, perhaps, as machines did not make mistakes or do things they were not programmed to do. And, if they broke, they were easily fixed-- unlike people.

What he made most often were automatons. They were creatures, like spiders and cats. What he wanted to do most was make a perfect humanoid automaton. He began to do exactly that. He worked day and night on it. Months. Years. He worked alone and in his workshop behind the small cottage he and his wife shared creating the perfect humanoid automaton.

His wife was becoming lonely and isolated from him. She came to him crying, saying he ought to give up the machines and spend what little life they had left together. They argued all though the night. When, finally, she broke and accused him of loving the machines more than her.

To hurt her, he agreed. Even though it wasn't true.

His wife sobbed in her chair in the living-room. She was inconsolable, and wept through the night. He tried to comfort her, but it was no use. Finally, he went to bed without her.

When he woke, his wife was stiff and cold in the chair. She had passed in the night. She had died of a broken heart.

Distraught, he sought comfort in his machine. He continued building the automaton, now alone in the world. The more he worked, the more the creation began to look like his love. He smoothed the lips into the perfect heart shape his wife had. He made the eyes the same sky blue and the slope of her nose just right.

When it was finally completed and perfected, he thought to take the creation before a panel of judges, as so they could see the magnificence of his machine. Before he left, he wanted to feel one last kiss from his wife. Perhaps it was to apologize, or perhaps it was to say goodbye. He felt compelled, drawn by the idea of her warmth and love.
He pulled in to kiss her, and tasted the copper and the cold steel. Then, suddenly, he felt a hard and painful crack against his chest. The machine had hit him, very hard, right in the center of his core where his heart thumped.
He was thrown across the room with a giant welt to his chest. The machine had killed him, broken his heart, just as he had broken his wife's.

They were together at least, together and bound. Two shattered hearts beating as one.

A story

((Wyrmrest Accord))

Allow me to tell you a story my father used to tell me as a boy.

It is a fairy-tale. But, it is not the sort of fairy-tell that they tell children now. It is a raw story, to teach a lesson through blood and pain.

If you're willing to listen, maybe you will even hear what it is that is meant to be learned.

There once was a cave. Within the cave, the Earth Mother gave birth. From her loins sprang all the gods and goddesses there ever were. From the cave and her womb was all the things that ever came to be in the world. From joy and happiness to death and change.

Centuries passed, and a large kingdom and small village was built near the Cave of the World. However, no citizens dared ventured near it. For the cave was a sacred and hallowed ground.

But, the kingdom and the village were in dire strife. A drought had killed the crops and threatened to destroy the people.
Within the kingdom was a large castle. The castle housed the king's massive army and noblemen and women. The king would not let his army starve. Even though the village was on the brink of collapse, he still had grain and water to feed the people closest to him.

The village would not stand for this. They demanded their king come and address the issues of the drought.

The night before the king arrived to speak to his people, a bold girl within the village traveled to the Cave of the World. She prayed to the Mother Goddess and all of her children.

The girl heard a voice. And the voice told her to take a rock from the cave and strike the king when he came to speak.

Only a fool ignores the voice of a god.

The king came. He was a greedy and wicked man, and when the people called out for food, he laughed at them and told them to make their bread with sawdust and ash.

Out of anger, the girl threw the rock from the Cave of the World. It soared through the air, above the villagers and soldiers alike. It struck the king in the temple, and he fell dead.

Days later, the king's son took the throne. He was a generous, kindly man. He took all the grain from the castle and distributed it to the villagers. And they were happy.

But, the soldiers and noblemen noticed their rations being depleted from what they once were. One soldier in particular found the rock that killed the king. Out of a sense of irony and justice, he struck the prince in the back of the skull and killed him with the stone Of the World.

Both the castle and the village were now facing disaster. Both were starved and leaderless. Both were set to collapse.

The bold girl of the village found the cursed rock from the Cave of the World. It was the same stone that had tasted the blood of the gods, the blood of the evil king, and the blood of the benevolent prince. Out of bitterness, she threw the unlucky stone off a steep ravine.

Then, the voice of the gods whispered to her. If she threw herself from the ravine and sacrificed more blood, all would be forgiven.

She had no choice. She could kill herself and follow the will of the gods, or she could starve. The girl threw herself off the cliff. Her heart was crushed against the stone, and her bones turned to seafoam. The stone devoured her blood as it promised.

The next day, rain began to fall. It was a hard, weeping rain that cleansed the world and swept the drought away. Crops began to flourish, and the seasons harvest was in abundance. Both the castle and the village was saved.

And that is the end.