Child of None - Richart Carr

For character backgrounds and journals.
Haymarket
Posts: 8
Joined: Wed Oct 27, 2021 5:25 pm

Child of None - Richart Carr

Postby Haymarket » Fri Nov 19, 2021 3:12 pm

Act One

The woman who would of been his mother screams. Her midwife whoms arms convene in tattoos and ritual scarification croaks push push breathe breathe in her raspy barbarian tongue.

This is not right a man says his face stained with worry.

He is born wrapped in shadow and his skin hot to touch burning her alive from the inside and she gives birth to shadows too and they rip her in half.

A man shouts and a heavy sword is raised high and the midwife paints runes in the air frantically with the long nail of her pointer finger but the shadows and the black curse of this infant rip them in half as well.

It's quiet the white silence of snow and winter and cold.

The baby cries he is hungry and pines for his mother.

Haymarket
Posts: 8
Joined: Wed Oct 27, 2021 5:25 pm

Re: Child of None - Richart Carr

Postby Haymarket » Sat Mar 12, 2022 7:24 pm

Act Two

A wagon paces west sat by a pair of hooded men the baby's cries are silent now coiled in warming furs.

And if this one's power never manifest?

Then we find another.


The baby is a young boy holding a dead mouse a precious pet in his hands he sobs.

Maybe it's him?

Maybe it is.


The young boy is a teenager handsome even now as he's beaten by fists that feel as heavy as stones a loud smacking against a wall his blood boiling he digs sharp nails into the other boy's eyes several mouths agape in this small Waterdhavian study.

Our apologies we understand.

Yes he needs to learn restraint.


The teenager is a man now and the two men are old and lay at his feet awash in blood but he knows the truth of them and their naked humanity and he feels no pity nothing except perhaps the elation of freedom.

Am I not only a child of fate my fathers?

The man is in Impiltur now turning the pages of a journal his caravan setting a leisurely pace on the Royal Road. A distant voice in his mind a woman's maybe. A crow circles the wagon above.


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