The Isran Empire
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 105 
Registered: May 23, 2017 16:46:10 GMT -8
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Spindle
Dec 11, 2018 15:32:53 GMT -8
Post by The Isran Empire on Dec 11, 2018 15:32:53 GMT -8
 SpindleIt can be hard to tell whether little village of Spindle ever had good times, or whether it has simply spent its entire existence in a state of hardship. Lack of rainfall and poor, sandy soil have left the town impoverished. Most of its unhappy inhabitants spend their time tending to sickly turnip fields and malnourished animals, with little time or energy left over for leisure. As with any poor village, the temptation to seek a better life through unscrupulous means is too great for many to resist, leading the villagers to be mistrustful of their neighbors. |
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Rafe Shadowborn
New
Roleplay posts: 3
Age: 32
Physical Description: Average height, average build. Easily described as an average individual. Easy to miss, easy to forget, hard to notice.
Clothes and Equipment: Dark grey clothing, usually appearing as rags and are described as nondescript.
Registered: Dec 14, 2018 10:14:52 GMT -8
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Spindle
Jan 1, 2019 19:55:22 GMT -8
Post by Rafe Shadowborn on Jan 1, 2019 19:55:22 GMT -8
It had been many many years since Rafe had seen the village of his youth. This was not the Spindle he had been raised in, however, it still displayed whispers of the past he had known.
The turnip fields were full of withered tops, the cursed soil barely supporting the growth. Rafe seemed to remember the turnip tops having more green when he was younger, not the sickly black-grey currently wilting in the sun, covered by dust. Dilapidated fences, weathered and grey, separated the fields from their neighbors, but were unnecessary in keeping out the livestock. Not even the few pigs would touch the tops, leaving the fields untouched by scavenging animals.
Rafe strode down the dusty road, his clothing as grey as the fence, as tattered as the fences, and as nondescript as the houses and shacks. The evening sun cast shadows that played across the road, shadows that Rafe seemed to float across. Any bystanders would almost say that Rafe became shadow as the darkness flowed.
Approaching the ruins of a shack at the end of the village, Rafe slowed. This was the first time in nearly 20 years that he had seen his childhood home. The fence around the property was only evident in the posts left behind, all other portions had been taken by the neighbors to repair their own fences. The roof had collapsed, and anything of value had long since been taken and sold.
The conditions of the village made Rafe recall his experiences over the past quarter century. He remembered picking his first pocket when a group of travelers had made a short stop to rest their horses. He had left the village to seek a living in a larger populace at age 12, turning his back on his family and friends. The past ten years had been spent in and out of labor-intensive sentences, punishment for the cons, thefts, and crimes committed. Whips cracking, chains rattling, and the disdain all the prisoners felt for each other had developed a pessimistic outlook, which Rafe then focused on the drab world around him. He had only returned to Spindle to bide his time and determine the direction he intended to take next in life.
This may have been a mistake.
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The Isran Empire
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 105
Registered: May 23, 2017 16:46:10 GMT -8
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Spindle
Jan 1, 2019 22:44:27 GMT -8
Post by The Isran Empire on Jan 1, 2019 22:44:27 GMT -8
A cold, damp wind blew through Spindle, causing the few citizens walking in the streets to clutch their rags tightly around themselves. An old man passing by eyed Rafe suspiciously, but said nothing as he hobbled his way down the pitted dirt road. A small group of dirty little children ran around behind the house, spinning in circles as they sang a nursery rhyme.
Ten bad men all standing in a line
When dawn breaks it'll be their time
One by one by their necks they'll hang
Put an end to their dirty gang
One, two, three, from the hangman's tree
Four, five, six, see them thrash and kick
Seven, eight, nine, make them pay for their crimes
Ten, the end, till we do it again!
The children all flopped on the ground, then sat up and giggled to one another. It seemed that even in such a harsh environment, there was still a place for some joy. As the children stood up and began singing again, Rafe would feel a prod on his back. An ancient, wrinkled crone stood behind him, raising the cane with which she'd just poked him.
"I know you," she croaked. "Don't tell me...you're little Rafe, aren't you? The boy who was always getting into trouble? I recognize those sneaky eyes anywhere. I thought you'd died, or left for good. What brings you back to this little slice of hell, boy?"
Rafe would recognize her as Old Missus Bitters, an old spinster who had always terrorized the children when he was young. It had seemed at times that she had nothing better to do than shake her fist and shout at little ones as they ran through her yard, and many a young lad had felt the smack of her walking stick. She'd been old back then, and seemed positively fossilized now. It was anyone's guess as to how she wasn't dead yet. Perhaps she kept herself alive through pure grouchiness.
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Rafe Shadowborn
New
Roleplay posts: 3
Age: 32
Physical Description: Average height, average build. Easily described as an average individual. Easy to miss, easy to forget, hard to notice.
Clothes and Equipment: Dark grey clothing, usually appearing as rags and are described as nondescript.
Registered: Dec 14, 2018 10:14:52 GMT -8
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Spindle
Jan 6, 2019 11:36:21 GMT -8
Post by Rafe Shadowborn on Jan 6, 2019 11:36:21 GMT -8
“Grandmother Bitters!” Rafe said with forced surprise. “It has been ages since I saw you last, and your ability to stroke fear and respect into people has not lessened, I see!”
Rafe turned around to face the old woman. His grey eyes scanned her wrinkled face, noting that her skin hung much more frail than he had remembered. This was no real surprise, as he recalled that he had been away for quite some time.
Rafe’s eyes darted around the village before settling back on the old crone. “I’ve recently returned from some travels and figured that I’d see how Spindle is faring before continuing elsewhere.”
The dust strewn road was barren of even the most sturdy weeds, leaving the sand and dust to be kicked up by the gusts of wind which plagued the region. Nothing could grow here, thought Rafe, not even children it seemed. I was fortunate to leave.
His escape had been a difficult one, especially as he was still quite young when he had left, carrying his only belongings, a change of clothing and a small, hard loaf of bread. Rare recalled the night of his parting. It had been dry, dark, and cold. The sky had been cloaked in dark clouds that had whispered lies of rain, and the lightning had cast eerie shadows with each strike.
Shaking himself from his memory, Rafe asked the elderly woman, “Pray do tell Grandmother, how fares Spindle?”
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The Isran Empire
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 105
Registered: May 23, 2017 16:46:10 GMT -8
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Spindle
Jan 7, 2019 21:27:33 GMT -8
Post by The Isran Empire on Jan 7, 2019 21:27:33 GMT -8
Old Missus Bitters let out a derisive snort, gesturing vaguely with her cane at the surrounding town. A cold wind blew through, whistling over broken rooftops and abandoned shacks. The sickly turnips swayed and bowed in the wind, their brown stalks threatening to snap off from the pressure. The children shivered, clutching their ragged coats around themselves before returning to their play.
"Look around you, boy," said the old woman. "How does it look like Spindle is faring? It's worse than ever. Or did your time away make you forget how to use your eyeballs? How is Spindle faring? What a ridiculous question."
She harrumphed grumpily, then sighed. She glanced back at the children as they sang and played, watching them for a moment before speaking again.
"It's gotten worse in the past couple of weeks, though. Do you know Carl Whist? No, he was born after you left...good boy. Nice young lad, and very strong, too. He didn't leave like the others, he wanted to do everything he could to keep this town going...poor boy. He got locked up by the authorities, you know. Imperial guards. All he wanted to do was to get something worth some money...he tried to sneak into the Estate. I don't know why the Isran Guard cares so much about the place to guard it, it doesn't belong to them...but they caught him sneaking out. Do you know what they caught him with? A dozen silver spoons. For a dozen silver spoons, they beat him and took him to the city to be thrown in a dungeon. All because he wanted to help the village."
Shaking her head, she gestured with her cane towards the south. Rafe would recall that the old Bitterglass Estate was off in that direction, although it had been closed off as long as anyone could remember.
"I lived there as a little girl, you know. It was my Uncle's...before the accident. Everything in there should belong to me, but then the guards came and told us that it was closed off, that nobody was allowed inside, and that the whole place belonged to the government. I remember the chandelier that hung in the dining room. It was beautiful, held sixty candles...and it was covered in perfect diamonds. If someone could bring that back, we could turn this village around...but the guards seized it and closed the gates. To this day, I don't know why."
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Rafe Shadowborn
New
Roleplay posts: 3
Age: 32
Physical Description: Average height, average build. Easily described as an average individual. Easy to miss, easy to forget, hard to notice.
Clothes and Equipment: Dark grey clothing, usually appearing as rags and are described as nondescript.
Registered: Dec 14, 2018 10:14:52 GMT -8
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Spindle
Jan 13, 2019 11:30:29 GMT -8
Post by Rafe Shadowborn on Jan 13, 2019 11:30:29 GMT -8
Rafe recalled tales of the estate. There wasn’t a child of Spindle who hadn’t. Tales of hauntings, intrigue, and untold treasures. This was the first time he had heard a first hand account of the wealth hidden within the gated holdings.
“Grandmother Bitters, I am afraid that I indeed have never heard of Carl, however the family name of Whist slightly rings a bell.” Rafe responded, attempting to hide the excitement in his voice. A chandelier of diamonds? If wealth such as that had been left hanging in plain sight within the estate, what could those gates be hiding behind walls and locked doors? “Grandmother, you speak of the chandelier, what else do you recall? I have only heard tales of the estate, never fact.”
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The Isran Empire
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 105
Registered: May 23, 2017 16:46:10 GMT -8
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Spindle
Jan 14, 2019 23:38:33 GMT -8
Post by The Isran Empire on Jan 14, 2019 23:38:33 GMT -8
Old Missus Bitters shook her head, rubbing her temples with her hand.
"The line between fact and tale often smudges and smears in old age, boy. Some tales may be true, but I may have forgotten. I might recall something as a truth, when in fact it was merely imagination. Who can say? What is a fact, but a tale that many people believe to be true? I do remember the chandelier though, I remember that as clear as I'm seeing your face right now. That chandelier...well, to a little girl, it was the thing of dreams. I felt like royalty eating my dinner under that chandelier. The way it glittered and sparkled and shone...yes, I remember that clearly. Everything else, though...gosh, I don't recall much at all. Especially the accident...it was all such a rush, such a blur. He told us we had to go, had to leave, that he'd follow us after he finished something...and then the guards were there, blocking the gate, telling us that nobody would ever be allowed back in there. That we'd have to move out. I went from diamond chandeliers and silver spoons to this pile of mud and misery."
She kicked a rock with a derisive snort, sending it flying in the direction of a particularly unfortunate chicken. The scrawny bird squawked as the rock bounced off its back, knocking off a handful of dirty feathers.
"I never spent all that much time inside, anyways. I spent all my time playing outside, on the grounds or in the forest. I was so young, back then. Why go inside, anyways? It was cold inside, always so cold, and my uncle said that I was never to go upstairs. Tanned my hide when I so much as set a toe on the first step. No, I really only went inside to sleep in my little bed with the silk sheets and to eat meals under that beautiful chandelier."
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