Vines

[Akallabeth]

Eleanor walks slowly into a great forest of oak. It is springtime, and flowers are spread amongst the pillars of the trees. For as far as the eye can see, there is nothing except the great grey tree trunks, and the small flowers, which cover the floor of the forest in a medley of green, white, and red.

As she glides amongst the oaks, she feels that there is something wrong, some discord disturbing the placid wood. No birds sing, and the forest seems to almost be in mourning. She moves silently through the trees, searching for this thing that darkens the entire forest. She softly walks amongst the trees, looking and listening for something. Suddenly she sees a glint! It is as if sunlight is reflecting off polished metal, yet somehow different, a more ruddy glint. Eleanor begins to rush, ghosting amongst the trees, for she feels in her heart that this must be the source, the base of the discord. She moves around yet another grandfather of an oak, and halts. For in front of her, a man lies on the ground, leaning against a tree. His formerly shining armor is dented and blood covered. His breath comes in gasps, and it is clear that he will not remain in this world for long. The man lolls his head to the side, revealing his face. Grey eyes, high cheekbones, and a narrow head. This is not a man of her land, Eleanor realizes. She reaches out to touch the traveler, to wipe some of the blood from his brow.

As her hand reaches out, the man suddenly grabs her wrist by the man’s gauntleted hand. Startled, she draws back, and seeks to withdraw her arm from his grasp. He gasps out a single word:

“Wait.”

She stops trying to escape, and looks at him. There is a look of earnestness on his face, and he releases her wrist. In the same slow voice, which clearly is slowly draining the remaining life out of him, he continues.

“I have a tale I must tell to you before I pass on. One must know why this occurred, why I am dying. Please say that you will listen, and remember my words.”

Eleanor nods her head in assent, unsure of how she could respond otherwise to such a simple request.

The dying man gives a weak smile, and begins his tale, speaking in the same laborious, life draining manner.

I am from a town a great distance from here. In this town, I had been counted among the bravest and most noble soldiers from since I was young. Thus, it was no surprise to me when our town’s chief came to me with a request. He wished me to go to another town, not far from here, to deliver a message. There seemed to be something strange in the way he said this, as if he was suppressing some emotion, what emotion, I could not tell. And the message. . . was different. For some strange reason, it was enclosed, sealed within a glass tube, which had been embellished with green and gold vines, obviously glazed on by some of my town’s master craftsmen. There was certainly a paper inside, but having such a simple piece of paper in this ornate tube seemed illogical to me. Before I left, the chief instructed me to treat the paper with the utmost care, and to return immediately upon delivering it to the leader of the other town, with absolutely no loitering. He made this last part explicitly clear, and then wished me a good trip and a safe return.

Though this did pique my curiosity, I had been asked to deliver various other trifles to other town leaders before. I made the lengthy journey, and personally delivered the message to the leader of the other town, a kind elderly man. He looked at me with wizened eyes, and bade me to wish the chief of my town well. The man seemed somewhat familiar to me, but I did not learn why until much later. He bade me a safe journey to my hometown, and I left immediately.

My town’s chief had been anxiously awaiting my return for some time, or so I was told by other citizens. I reported that I had a safe journey, and that the message had been given to the leader in immaculate condition. I had nearly left his house when I remembered the message that the other town’s leader had given me, that I should wish the chief well. At my saying this, a great pallor spread over his face, and he bade me leave. The next morning, the chief was gone. No one ever found him again, living or dead. Evidently, I had been the very last person to talk to him, as he left without saying a word to his wife or children. A new chief was chosen, and life went on, leaving the matter of the old chief’s disappearance as a legend of sorts.

Several years went by. Towards the end of summer, an elderly woman appeared in our village. Her skin was white and wasting, and she claimed to be the last surviving citizen of a town that had experienced a strange pestilence. She saw me several times, but somehow she recognized me the last time. Her eyes grew wide, and her mouth grimaced in hatred.

 

‘You! You!’ she said, ‘You brought it upon us, you and the cursed vine!’

 

After saying this, she fell into a coma, one which she never did recover from. She died that very night, despite the best efforts of the town healer.

Needless to say, this proclamation by her did incite a great deal of shock in me, and suspicion in others. Several weeks after this, the chief ordered me to leave. No pity was on his face when he said this, clearly believing that I had somehow killed this woman, and if she was telling the truth, her town as well. She had never said exactly which town she was from, but now the message in the tube of vines returned to me, and the strange disappearance of the old chief. As I was left without house or home, with nothing but my horse, gear, and some food from a few kind souls to take with me, I thought that I might as well venture to the town where I had delivered the message.

Strangely enough, the road was gone. While before there had been a fine, cleared path through a beautiful forest, now there was merely a spot where younger trees grew, with a few brave clumps of grass clinging to life amongst the overcrowding canopy of the trees. Soon enough even these disappeared, and I was left to wander blindly, always moving on in the direction that I believed to be correct. I had gone a good ways (several miles, at least) into the forest, when a light sound pulled me aside. I saw then a great basin of granite, carved out of the rock, into which must have fell a small stream, now reduced to mere drops in this large stone bowl. The drops, coming down one by one, sounded as though they were teardrops, endless tears. Sadly, this was all too true.

As I looked up again, listening to the softly tinkling sound of the water, I saw that I was amongst many great hills, or so they appeared to be at first. With a great shock, I realized that this was not so! The hills were vine covered houses, stone houses. Most were so covered that the stone could no longer be seen, but here and there, the square, precise corners placed by the stonemason were visible. Some of the green barrows had holes in the sides, formerly occupied by windows or doors. As I moved on, farther into the town, I dismounted from my horse, to wonder at the beauty that the town still possessed in its covered state. As I continued to walk, entranced by the always audible tears of the waterfall, I saw that I had come to the town square.

It was completely different from my memories, and yet not so. There was the fountain in the center, now a pinnacle of green leaves and snaking vines, and dry, with no more joyous bubbling water. Off to one side, why, there was the house where a small child had waved at the big man in armor passing by on his horse. Now it was armored also, in a thick leafy mat. And over to the side... oh, that was no tree there. One of the lamps still stood, appearing to be a weeping willow with the vines trailing off its four arms where lanterns had been hung at night. And wasn’t that the building that had appeared to be an inn? If only I had taken time to look when I had the chance! Indeed, if not for the vines covering all the structures and roads in the town, it would have looked as the same as when I saw it first, though devoid of human life.

This drove into my head what the woman had said, that I had brought this upon them. How could this be? Where were all the people? Then I thought of the message. What had it contained? Foolishly, I thought that it still might exist. Of course it would be in the leader’s house.

I turned, and began to walk across the square, the strange vines with green leaves, which actually hid the gold beneath them, seemed to crunch underfoot. When I got to the house, I could not find the door. I knew where I had entered, but I could not see any trace of a door or window. Indeed, this house seemed to be the most covered of all. I easily sliced through the first vines with my sword, and was immediately cut back, or so it felt. When I looked down at my chest plate, there was a line across it, dented in deeply, as though someone had tried to cut me in the same manner in which I had cut the vines. Startled by this, I looked up, and saw nothing except the vines I had separated, with some lying limply on top of those coating the ground, and the others hanging still, held up by their fellows. There was nothing to be seen that could have possibly made the dent in my armor, except my own sword.

 

‘Ah,’ I thought, ‘this is foolishness. You must have dented it at some other time, and only now became aware of it.

 

Yet this did not comfort me. Apprehensively, I tried again, as I saw that but one more stroke should open up the door. Again, the vines parted, and again I felt the same sensation. This time, however, it had not only been on my chest plate, but also slipped between armor plates and cut myself as well. Blood dripped down from my wounded shoulder, onto the leaves, causing them to turn gold, and, strangely enough, grow wherever the blood hit. I did not wish this to deter me from entering the house, so I did my best to ignore the pain and the strange reaction of the plant and move on into the house.

Once I entered, I was astounded. While I expected to see decay and mold throughout, due to the moistness caused by the numerous plants, I had certainly not expected what I saw. The furniture looked as though it was as good as new. Plates, paper, and all the paintings were just the same as when I left. Nothing had changed inside. I went to the room where I had given the leader his message, and there saw it just as if I had left. Except for several changes. There, upon the desk, was the vine covered tube, opened. The scrap of parchment which was obviously the message lay beside it. Also, there was another partially finished letter written, with the pen left upon the paper, as if the person had merely left to eat, or perhaps answer a door. Other than that, there was nothing different, save for the vines nearly filtering out the light coming through the old window.

I picked up the scrap of paper that had sufficed for the actual written message within the vine encrusted tube. I was astounded by the words, astounded that the old chief could have said such things. Here’s what it said:

 

Father-

Do you realize what it is like to be your son? To constantly have to live up to your image in everything, whether it is something as simple as building a shelf, to being a leader of a town? I cannot ever seem to do anything that comes close to you! You do not seem to care about anything I do, from how my life goes to how my family is, and my town is doing. I want you to be able to feel what this is like, how harsh this cuts. In this vial, there is a type of seed, which creates a vine like no other. It will grow on its own at first, very rapidly. I do not doubt that it is now climbing your house as you read this. After this, it becomes far more interesting. All the energy that you use in trying to destroy this vine, or in any way harm it, will be used to injure you, cutting you back after all your hard work. This is to let you experience how it feels when hard work is done, and devalued, much as all my work is when it is compared to yours. After it has drawn blood from repeated efforts, it will slowly take over your body, making you become a part of it. It will kill you eventually, at least your body. However, this plant will keep your mind with it, allowing you to see and feel the hurt of striking at others who strike at you, just as I am doing by sending you this. Though this will grow on its own, it will be greatly accelerated by the hopeless efforts of your townspeople in trying to destroy this. For every person it consumes accelerates the process.

 

I trust this will make you feel my pain, at not even wishing me well once, as I go through my separate life, soon to be freed of your influence.

 

Your son

 

 

“The other message was the father’s response, never finished, as a last letter to his son. I felt that he would not wish for others to read it. As you may guess, I escaped from the town destroyed by my old chief’s excessive pride and wish to succeed. However, I have fallen prey to the vine also, for I was mortally injured in my attempt to leave, and do not have long left. Please, I ask you for but one more favor: stay near me until I die, and then leave me, that the vines do not cut you also, as they have cut me, and these two towns.”

 

Eleanor stayed by the man, holding his hand until his breath slowed, and finally stopped. She then left him as he requested, and pondered his sad story in her heart, as the green and gold vines grew.

 

 

 

 

I'd appreciate it if you'd post or PM any suggestions or advice. I don't quite feel that this is a well finished work, but I hope it's good enough.

 

(EDIT: Fixing indents, adjusting some things I didn't care for, and changed "restaurant" to "inn" in paragraph 15)

Edited February 14, 2005 by Akallabeth

[Tanuchan]

A wolf enters the Recruiter's Office once more, looking around warily to be sure there's no trap of arms and limbs* in any place nearby. Then, she picks the last application that lies on Wyvern's desk.

 

Looking at Akallabeth and grinning, Tanny shimmers into her human form.

 

 

I think you're too demanding on yourself... it is a good story, gripping, and well-written. The only think that caught my notice was the use of "restaurant"... I think it doesn't fit the setting, as you're talking about armors and swords... probalby the word 'inn' or 'tavern' would be better.

 

I do hope to see more of your stories around!!

 

Meanwhile, I'll make you company. Wyvern must have been caughty by the deb... erm... I mean... by his duties... elsewhere...

 

She looks for a nice chair and sits beside Akallabeth, after pushing a cup of coffee and a tray of cookies into his hands.

 

 

 

*An inside joke... starting some threads back involving Wyvern's activities at the Recruiter's Office...

 

(Edit: typos)

Edited February 18, 2005 by Tanuchan

[Wyvern]

Akallabeth sighs and turns to Tanuchan, his coffee mug half-empty and the corners of his mouth spotted with cookie crumbs. Frowning and casting a quick glance towards the entrance of the Recruiter's Office, the applicant stretches out in his easychair and mumbles a few curses under his breath, his eyes slowly shifting their focus to the grandfather clock in the corner of the room.

 

"Duties, huh?" Akallabeth brushes a restless hand through his tangled hair.

 

"Yeah." Tanuchan frowns and glances towards the Office door, shaking her head as if to apologize. "Although, I'm not sure if 'duties' would be the best wor-"

 

Tanuchan is interrupted as the Office door slams open, almost as if on cue, and Wyvern barges into the room. The reptilian Elder skids across the messy floor and causes Akallabeth to drop the empty cookie tray as he comes to a halt, cringing as it clatters on the floor. Shooting a quick nod to Tanuchan and grinning a razor sharp grin, the overgrown lizard turns towards Akallabeth and vigorously shakes his hand, hissing:

 

"Greetings Akallabeth. My apologies for the lack of punctuality, lemme see that application."

 

Before Akallabeth can so much as raise a hand, Wyvern snatches the sheet of paper from his reach and begins reading over it with his beady eyes. Once he's finished, the lizard breaks into an even larger grin and scratches his scaly thin , eyeing the applicant as a hungry lion might eye a limping antelope.

 

"Well, I must say, that sounds like quite a curse. Good thing that Waterlily isn't anywhere near this stuff... and to think that I thought that breeding him with a Saguaro cactus was a frightening idea."

 

Akallabeth raises a confused brow as he watches the reptilian Elder shiver, and pauses for a moment before quietly clearing his throat.

 

"So, uhhh, am I in?"

 

Wyvern stops shivering upon hearing the question, and immediately grins and places a scaly claw on Akallabeth's shoulder.

 

"That can certainly be arranged. Before I give this application the official stamp, however, I'd like to offer you a product that I think you might be interested in. Almost Dragonic Brand Weed Weakeners™: because you never can be too certain when a plant curse might roll around your way, and breathing in fumes that hurt vengeful plants sure beats trying to cut them down."

 

Akallabeth, having heard disturbing rumors of Wyvern's products and noticing the concerned look on Tanuchan's face, pales a little and shakes his head.

 

"Awwww, c'mon." Wyvern's tail flails left and right in an agitated manner as he stares at the applicant with pleading businessman eyes. "I even have the botanist credentials for it, if you'll give me a moment."

 

Akallabeth and Tanuchan eye Wyvern curiously as he turns his back to them and takes out a small leather-bound folder, waving a claw over it and muttering something about "avocados" and "slowly whining." After a few minutes of fumbling with his words, the lizard gives up in frustration and stuffs the folder back into his pouch.

 

"Must have left'em in my one of my other Hawaiin shirts." Wyvern turns and raises a claw to his head, scratching at it in a nervous manner. "Let me at least show you how Almost Dragonic Brand Weed Weakeners™ work by testing it out on some of the fungi that's still clinging to the ceiling. Whoever said not cleaning didn't have its advantages was wro-"

 

Tanuchan cuts Wyvern off by casting him a menacing glance, acting out the role of Melba in her absence. Wyvern sighs and slowly nods to this before stamping Akallabeth's application ACCEPTED, handing it to the eager applicant and bowing as he does so. As the lizard turns and exits the Office, he shuts the door behind him, which causes a fungi patch resting on the ceiling above Tanuchan's head to come undone. Several artificial mannequin arms and legs stored there tumble from their secret hiding place, burying poor Tanuchan in the process...

 

;-)

 

OOC: An interesting story and an ACCEPTED application, Akallabeth. Welcome to the Mighty Pen! It's great to see that you've taken such an interest in the Pen community, and I apologize for any waiting period you had to endure for a response. I look forward to reading more of your writing and participating with you in community projects. Once again, welcome!

[Akallabeth]

(OOC: Glad to be here Wyv. Perhaps I shall learn more of Almost Draconic merchandise)

 

Akallabeth feels a smile growing upon his face, and stands up, walking over to help Tanny out from under the various appendages that have buried her. Arms and legs fly through the air, only to land on top of a nearby bookshelf. By the time Tanny is freed from the tangled mess of limbs, there is a large, teetering stack on top of the bookcase, waiting for the next violent opening or closing of the door. Carefully and quietly, Tanny and Akallabeth leave Wyvren's office to the next applicant, as the assorted mannequin limbs teeter precariously above the desk.

[Tanuchan]

Tanny gives a last look at the unsteady pile of arms and legs, then giggles softly. Reaching out to earth, and finding a thread of energy linked to Door, she weaves it into the pile, assuring that just a violent opening or closing of Door will make them fall . Turning to Akallabeth, whe grins.

 

"Just making sure that no applicant gets buried by those... unless, of course, an applicant barges in in Wyvern-like style."

 

 

lol

 

Welcome again to the Pen, Akallabeth!! Thanks for your help in digging me out of those limbs

[Sweetcherrie]

Sweetcherrie strolls by and sees all these happy people in the recruiters office.

She sticks her head in and hears the word, "Accepted"

 

"Accepted?" It takes a while for the information to seep through her blond hair.

When the info is finally translated and understood, she runs in and flings herself at Akallabeth, almost strangling him.

 

"I knew it, congratulations!!!"

 

- Sweetcherrie

[Zariah]

Yey! Welcome to the Pen!!!

I hope to see you around often!

(I'm Zariah btw...and my description in the Portriat of Piazza is not finished yet...but that's where u can find out about my roleplaying character)