Post by Sangu on Mar 23, 2016 5:32:57 GMT
Part One
Mother Nature's icy fingers grasped at him as he stepped off of the wagon, boots crunching the snow under his feet. He looked up at the kindly old farmer who'd took him up north, offering him his gratitude in the form of the only thing he had, a curt nod and a thanks. Luckily for Sangu, the gentleman driving the mule drawn wagon didn't hop down and slap him senseless. Instead, the old man accepted the Thanks and rode off toward the South, like a bird in Winter time.
He turned to scan his surroundings, emerald probes taking in every inch of snowy land. The firey mane on his head cascaded down over his marked shoulders, mother nature running those icy fingers through his hair, picking it up and causing it to flow like a river behind him as he began to walk.
Sangu had heard of this place amongst the whispers and gossip in the Fukuroh Woods. Ever since he'd learned of the harsh, freezing climate he'd heard his name being called like a whisper on the wind. "Sangu..." he could hear it calling out to him..."Sangu...come North...Yuznabit...". This was the place. This was the place that he would consider his training grounds, a place where he could condition his body.
The snow pulled at his feet like a set of icy dead hands, feet weighted down with his weights around his ankles. He wanted it this way not necessarily because he loved cold weather, no, nor did he want to build a snowman. He'd come here because he wanted to train, but not only that, he wanted to train like an Arcosian. In his mind, this was the closest he'd ever come to learning how it was to be one of the cold killers.
The white blanket clouding his vision as he walked was pierced by shapes off in the distance. For in the distance, through this veil of cold white snow, he could see the lights in the windows of a few houses. Judging from the size of the houses, this was a small village with maybe, at most, five people. He smiled and trudged on through what seemed like a frozen ocean.
By the time he reached the small settlement, his arms were heavy, and his knees were weak. This in itself could be considered training because those who were not used to these conditions would most certainly fall to them. Sangu however was not the type to just turn tail and run. He couldn't feel his hands, nose, or feet.
Finally, he would reach a patch of dry land at the top of a large hill and he found himself looking up, and up, and up, and up at the waving arms of a windmill, with it's icy fingers. He then turned and saw the old driftwood the owners of this settlement would call a fence. He wanted by all rights to call this place "abandoned", but he'd seen the lights in the windows of the old three bedroom shack to the east of the windmill.
Pulling his coat around him as the wind howled, he moved over toward the shack. He felt as if he was stepping on needles now, his ice blocks moving slower and slower as he ascended the steps of the shack painfully. He weakly lifted a hand and knocked on the rickety wooden door, the door seeming to be ready to fall off of it's hinges as he did.
Thump. Thump. Thump. The loud thumps neared the door, and he heard the wooden know jiggle. The light pierced his eyes and he winced so he could barely make out the portly old man at the door, who looked like someone just pissed in his cornflakes. "What?!"
Nature took her embrace of him and he could barely keep still enough to form words. He willed his mouth to speak clearly but it came out as "E-e-e-xcuse.....m-m-m-m....mmmme....s-s-sir....could...c-c-ould you ppppplease...h-h-h-help m-m-me?"
"Son, you're either pretty damned stupid or just plain crazy. I don't know if I oughta let you in, what with you goin' out on a night like this! An' look at ya, wearin' them martial arts clothes, an' no shoes! What kinda fool are ya?!" the old man guffawed at the warrior's apparent lack of common sense. He was the type of person who meant exactly what he said, and stuck to it. But this old fella had a heart, and he heard the boy's stomach just begging for food. He sighed. "Shoot. Git yer arse in here, kid before ye catch yer death!"
The old man welcomed the Crimson haired warrior into his home. Maybe it was against his better judgement, but he was a very spiritual man. He believed in a little thing called Karma. He looked over at the old woman, who looked almost like a fat hen as she wrapped Sangu's shoulders in a wool blanket. "Martha, git this young buck some cocoa. Gotta git 'im warmed up."
"Awright Jim, ah got it." She looked up until her old neck hurt at Sangu, patting him on the shoulder. "You'ins git ov'r by the far an' sit down. Me an' Jim gon' take care of ya son, ya hea'?"
Honestly, he couldn't barely make out her toothless dialect but the young man didn't DARE complain. He shivered as he walked over to the raging inferno in the stone fireplace and had a seat. He could feel his feet tingling as the heat began to return, and nodded as he took the cocoa from the old hen. "Thank you ma'am. I really appreciate it."
Her cheeks crimson, she beamed at him. "Aw, ain't nothin'. We believe in hopin' strang'rs roun' here, son."
The little old man stared at Sangu quizically, and finally he just had to ask "Was a city boy like ye doin' roun' these hea' pars' boy? Ye coulda died out there, ya know."
Sangu stared down at the brown, sweet liquid and sipped, it's warmth filling his chest. He thought about the story he would tell the old man. Would it really be prudent to lie though? No. His father had taught him better, though he had only known the man for about ten years. Finally, he spilled the beans. "Well...my name is Sangu and a long time ago I was involved with some very bad people..." guilt shone in those emerald orbs as he continued. "...my father gave me to their leader when I was about ten years old to protect my village...our...village..." his eyes welled up slightly, burning. He couldn't tell whether it was from the hot cocoa or the pain of what he'd once been. He went on to tell Jim and Martha of his situation, and how he was working hard to redeem himself. Working hard to become a hero..."and so now, I'm training in all parts of the world to become strong enough to defeat "him"."
Old Jim stared into the exhausted eyes of the good hearted young man. He didn't know why, or how, but he'd always been a good judge of character. He could see the truth in the boy's eyes before they suddenly went closed. The boy's chest rose and fell as he slept for the first time in two days of travelling.
Jim glanced over at his wife. "Hon, I reckon he don' seem like no bad guy. I reckon we can let him stay the night, but tomorrow, he's gon' have to earn his keep roun' here."
Martha was in total agreement with her husband, as she normally was. She knew his knack for judging men, and that this kid seemed nice enough. His story had moved her to tears as she'd seen the pain in his eyes. The old lady looked at her husband and whispered. "Aye, ah understan' completely dear. Let's get some rest for ta' night, eh?"
And so she doused the lantern and sat next to her husband in her old rocking chair. The two hard working farmers were tired, so they would fall asleep quickly.
Meanwhile, as the clouds parted and the stars began to twinkle, two falling stars sped toward Earth simultaneously. Where they really stars, though? An ominous feeling descended upon the tiny farm.
To Be Continued