So this is chapter one of that whole story deal.

~1~


It was still dark as Racemes woke. He shuffled over to his box of clothing and put on some loose fitting, baggy clothes. His room was the only room with a hard wood floor; it was above ground unlike the rest of the complex. He opened the silk screen of his space and watched the sun rise over the distant hills.
After splashing some water on his face, he grabbed his two scimitars that he lovingly named day and night, and put on his shoes. He headed out to a forest that was about a mile from his dwelling and unsheathed his blades.
He started out by spinning the swords in simple twists and turns but then it evolved into a mysterious, mystical dance of twirling blades. He continued this for a couple of hours and then walked back to his shack, panting and tired.

* * * * *

The sun had risen by the time he returned to his dwelling. When he entered he found Rhea there with two guards standing above her.
“What’s she doing here?” he demanded of the lumbering guards.
“You asked us to do anything she wanted,” said one.
“She asked to see you,” said the other.
Rhea remained silent, looking at the ground.
“You two are dismissed,” Racemes said to the guards, motioning them away.
When they were gone he turned to Rhea. “So you wanted to see me?”
“Yes.”
“And may I ask why?”
“Because I would like some questions answered.”
“Is that so,” He said absent mindedly “would you like some tea?”
“Sure, now about those questions-”
“What sort of tea?”
“I don’t care.”
“I’m sort of partial to cinnamon.”
“Fine, I’ll take that.”
“Now, I don’t want you to feel like you have to-”
“Those questions!” She fumed.
“Now now, no need to shout.” Racemes said as he walked past the open screen.
“Hey…Hey! Come back!” she said after he left. After a couple minutes she sat back and started to look around. His cabin was rather chilly as it was winter and there were only silk screens for walls. She had to admit it was rather nice, completely different than the post apocalyptic world that she was forced to leave behind. It was a pleasant change though, so far, in the couple of days that she spent at the warrior clan’s facility, she was treated well. She was fed well and was allowed to wander as she wished. The only thing that she was not allowed to do was to leave the compound and that changed today when she visited Racemes.
Racemes came back inside. “It’ll be another couple minutes for the tea.” He said smiling to Rhea. “So, those questions?”
“Yes…” She took a breath. “Were there survivors.”
“Doubtful. We took the town in a pincer movement, cutting off all escape routes.”
Rhea looked crestfallen. “Oh…” she looked down, wiped her eyes and looked up. “ Why,” she stammered “what was the motivation behind the assault.”
“We need food, but mostly it was just because the soldiers wanted something to kill…”
She stared him down, coldly. “And what part do you take in these raids?” she asked simply.
“None.”
“None?” she asked, not believing it.
“None.” he repeated and then sighed. “I choose to refrain from the raids, I would have been killed by the others in this clan by now, but they decided that I was not worth the struggle. Instead they left me as a sort of figure head.” He looked out to the forest beyond his shack. “I still take part in their training facilities and eat their food, for all intents and purposes I am part of the clan, but I am not at the same time.”
He got up and walked outside and came back inside a couple minutes later with the tea.
“Here,” he said as he handed her an oriental style chinaware cup. “Careful, it’s hot.” He poured some tea in the cups.
At that moment he looked so human, so fragile. As he sipped his tea and looked out to the rising sun it seemed that she could not hate him.

So about that there stencil: s'kinda delicate so be careful whilst cutting it

This will be the first in a series of posts containing chapters of a short story that I am in the process of writing. If anybody ever finds this I would appreciate critiques.

~Prelude~

Clang, clang …clang, clang... It is the hollow rhythm that echoes throughout this subterranean hell, the constant reminder that has embedded into all of our minds the bleakness of our own existence. This soulless cadence is the only sound as my fellow warriors prepare for another raid. Clang, clang …Clang, clang…
* * * * *
Noise, so much noise thought Rhea as she pressed through the throng. There were rumors of a raid on this town by a bloodthirsty band of warriors, and she was determined to leave the town before nightfall. She felt a sharp pain in her lower leg and winced as she turned to come face to face with a man in heavy armor holding a halberd that was embedded in her lower calf. He jutted it forward and jerked it back out of the wound. She stared gaping in awe as the blunt end of the pole arm came towards her head. The rest of what happened was blackness and so much noise.
* * * * *
It had been 14 years since the bombs fell, 14 years and hope for a civilized world had all but diminished. The years following the war’s end was all politicians bullshitting and trying to push themselves up to the top. Unfortunately for them, the people weren’t buying into it and started perpetuating the chaos with riots and revolts.
The world had collapsed into anarchy, currency was worthless and only goods had value. Luckily the past decade had seen a long stretch of peace until various warrior clans, such as the Soaring Eagle Clan started raiding small defenseless towns of their resources.
* * * * *
Rhea awoke in a daze. She felt a bump and the burning ache in her calf returned her to her senses. Realizing that she was being carried by a young man she stirred.
"So, you’re awake." He was obviously of high rank; he had many decorative feathers and two beautifully wicked curved swords.
Rhea stayed quiet.
"Listen, I can get you a bandage or something if you want me to. Sorry about the rough treatment. So what’s your name?"
"What is this? Who are you? Why am I here?" Her mind raced frantically as she took in her situation.
"Hey, I asked first." He said, faux-childlike
"No, you answer me."
"Alright, I’ll be the adult and take the initiative; I am Racemes Bubonicus, general of the Soaring Eagle Clan, and you are?"
After a long pause she spoke.
"My name is Rhea, I don’t have a last name. I was an herbalist in the town you raided."
"Ah…well you might want to go back to sleep, it’ll be a long ride."
"I can walk," She says as she tried to get down.
"Eh, no your leg-" he tried to say as her wounded leg got caught up on Racemes arm. She then fell on her leg. Blinding, white hot pain pierced up her leg. Racemes sighed, shook his head and picked her up.
* * * * *
Racemes took the woman over to the wagon of supplies and told one of his officers to stop the caravan. He put her down on the ground and pulled out a bandage and a bottle of antiseptic that was stolen from the town.
Rhea stirred.
"Awake again I see."
"Huh…Oh it’s you." She spit venomously.
"Sit still, I need to clean your wound."
She obeyed unhappily, realizing that it was necessary to her survival. She realized that these people only kept her alive for one reason and she detested that and swore that she would live long enough to kill all of them.

So I was thinking...thats all.

Yo, I'm back...not that anybody would notice, seeing as nobody reads these things. Anyhoo, that doesn't matter, what does matter is the fact that I'm back...which I am. I could go on like that for a while but I'm not going to.

Anyway, things are going good. I got a gig doing spots for Jesus Christ Superstar and possibly the rest of the local theatre groups shows. I just made an awesome stencil that came out beautiful, if you want one to cut out for yourself here it is...well actually no it is not because that there image adder dealie is being a horse bugger. But I digress.

I've recently started again with the webcomics. My newest one is a joint venture between my friend and I. He does the writing and I do the art. By the by, doing a decent drawing is suprisingly hard if you are just using Adobe Image Ready and MS Paint. Our comic "The Extreeem Travels of Lao Tzu" is about...well...the extreeem travels of Lao Tzu. Lao Tzu gets amnesia and becomes a kung-fu hero...except not so much.

I am currently reading over a foot high stack of books and hope to finish all of them by fall because I am taking an insane english course a year early.

So Things are indeed going good and I look forward to many manly things happening soon...what?