MossyMorel
Merchant
Chapter One: The Culling.
Alec woke up from yet another night of fitful sleep, and turned under his blanket to see Esther, across the room in her own bed, still snoozing. Her auburn hair covered her face, and her breathing was slow and peaceful.
Quietly, carefully, he padded from the room, moving through the bungalow to the kitchen, where his ma was preparing breakfast, and his pa was sat at the table, pouring over papers.
His nose wrinkled as he smelt what was in the pot. "Mushroom soup, again?"
"Right now it's all we've got, so eat up and quit complaining." Said his ma, before asking, "Is your sister up yet?"
"No..." Grumbled Alec, taking a seat at the table that was crammed into their small kitchen.
"Esther! You're going to miss breakfast!" His ma's voice was strained, and still raspy from the nasty chest infection she was recovering from.
A rustle of sheets was heard from Alec and Esther's room, and then; "If it's mushroom stew again I'd rather starve, if it's all the same to you."
Ma glared at pa. "She's your daughter."
Alec's pa glanced up, before chuckling. "I'm not the one with the attitude problem. She clearly got that from you." But he got up, filled a bowl with ice-water from the barrel outside the front door, and stalked into the bedroom, an evil look on his face.
As the screaming of an enraged teenage girl ensued, Alec studied the papers his father had been reading so avidly.
The seal of the major of Tarvell, a modestly sized nearby town, was printed in wax at the top, and it read;
Attention inhabitants of the Yckarel.
The forest surrounding the village has been declared a region of danger. If your people must travel, stick to the roads, and be accompanied by guards.
The exact nature of this danger is not yet apparent to us, but rest assured, it will be dealt with swiftly.
A strict curfew is now placed on your village's inhabitants. Anyone seen venturing out after midnight will be taken for questioning. Anyone seen in the forest, or near the boundary, will be killed on sight.
I repeat, the woods are a danger zone.
I'm sure you're already aware of the disappearance of the inhabitants of Oakfields and Kainsley, as well as many villages around the area. It isn't certain, but we believe that what caused their vanishing was-
A hand slapped into the back of Alec's head, and he hit the table, forehead first. Esther dropped into the seat opposite him, grinning.
“Mornin’, Stinker!” She was shivering, and her hair was wet. “Excited for Choosing?”
Alec shuddered. Choosing day... The day of his eighteenth birthday, when, in his village, he would graduate from his general apprenticeship and become an adult. He didn’t feel ready.
“I don’t feel ready. But it’s not like I have a choice. I just hope I don’t get picked for hunting, or gathering.” He wasn’t fond of the forest. Its low limbs and dark shadows instilled within him a feeling of unease.
“Eh, you’ll be fine, Titch.” Despite Esther being four years younger than him, she was taller. She was mid-way through her general apprenticeship, the rigorous education that all children at the age of eight began, and did not finish until their coming-of-age choosing ceremony on their eighteenth birthday. It was obvious that, in four years time, she would become a huntress. Fast, with good climbing and archery skills, she spent a lot of time in the forest, helping to feed their family more than once when the winter had been particularly harsh one year.
Alec shrugged and toyed with his stew, reluctant to eat. His thoughts flickered to the note on the table, and he found himself frowning. It was unheard of, in his life, that Tarvell directly take control of Yckarel like this, particularly with the threat of violence included. Something bad must have happened.
For the moment, he pushed it from his mind. The choosing was going to happen in a few hours time, and he had to be ready.
Four days later...
BANG! ... And heavy footsteps woke Alec from his sleep. Before he could do anything, his vision went red. It took him a good few seconds to realize his sister’s hair was covering his face, and that she was sobbing into his side.
“Esther! You nearly took the damned door off its hin- Oh.” Pa looked awkwardly at the two of them, before backing out of the room, closing the door quietly.
Recently donned a man, Alec sighed, and remained in his bed, gently stroking Esther’s head until her sobbing eased, and she looked up at him, her eyes rimmed with red.
“I c-can’t be a h-hunter...” Her voice was choked and she looked utterly distraught.
“Why ever not?” Was Alec’s gently reply.
“The woods... They’re going to be set alight... All the game, the wildlife, it will leave, or burn.” She fought back more tears, her chest heaving slightly.
“What?! What on earth for? Yckarel gets most of its food from the forest, how do they expect us to-”
“They think whatever’s been causing all this... Disappearance, the crop failure, dark skies and breathing difficulties... They think it’s in the forest. So they’re going to-” A sob finished the end of the sentence for her, and she collapsed again into Alec’s arms. They laid together for some time, occasionally talking, and after a while, Esther left to dry her face.
Alec was troubled. His sister was loud and excitable, brash even. She held herself as if she were a quick flowing stream; emotions troubled her briefly, and were soon swept up in her fast paced life. It was uncommon to see her so upset, and it had Alec worried.
He sat up in his bed and looked through the grimy pane of the window. Despite it being mid-morning the skies were clouded over, unnaturally dark. Heaving himself off the mattress, got changed, splashed his face with ice water, and left the small bungalow he called home.
There was no wind, and a stagnant, sickly-sweet odor like rotting flesh hung on the air. An eery quiet had descended on the town, and had been there for weeks.
“If whatever’s causing this is indeed in the forest,” Alec thought, “then by Gods, burn it down and be done with it...”
At the choosing ceremony, Alec had been sought out by Roryk, a stout, rough looking man whose profession was carpentry. A class he had done well in, Alec found out that his teacher had recommended him to Roryk as a workshop-hand and senior apprentice.
They got on well enough. Alec learnt swiftly, which was lucky, as his new boss left him little room for error.
He was no more than ten paces aware from his mentor’s workshop, when a cry echoed from the direction of the forest. He turned, and peered between the small house of the village to see lines and lines of men, armed with weapons and torches, marching across the field that separated Yckarel from the forest. Their purple and blue garb gave them away as Tarvell’s militia, a small but efficient task force primed for carrying out their Mayor’s more important commands.
They advanced on the trees, torches aloft, and that’s when Alec saw a flicker of red dancing about in front of the ranks. His sister.
He sprinted in their direction, and the buildings of Yckarel flew past him and were left behind as he ran for the forest. He could hear her now, shouting.
“This is my home! Leave it be! Leave it be! It’s not dangerous!” She was crying, running back and forth down the line of soldiers. Some regarded her with pity, others with scorn. Most stared ahead, carrying out their orders.
Esther paused for a moment as she saw her brother, and beckoned to him frantically.
“Alec! Alec, they’re doing it now! Help me!”
“Get away from the soldiers you idiot!” He was breathing heavily, glaring at his sister. Always getting into trouble, this had to be the worst. Ma and Pa were going to throw a fit when they heard about this...
She flinched, visibly hurt by his words, biting back more tears, she appeared vulnerable for the first time.
“But, the forest... Alec... Help me.”
He shook his head firmly. They had reached the forest now, the trees casting shade over the few first rows of soldiers. The men set down their packs, and began readying their kindling equipment. Esther glared at them, and was about the say something more, when a low rumble sounded, far off in the trees. She blinked, and whipped around to peer between the shadowy trunks. Nothing out of the ordinary could be seen,
but the rumble continued, a sound like distant thunder, growing slowly louder.
The soldiers began to notice it too. A few of them hesitated, frowning in concern, but they had a job to do, and shrugged the noises off as a distant earthquake. They advanced on the trees, their torches ready, and Esther began frantically hurrying down their ranks, shouting obscenities, pleading, trying to convince and persuade them to stop, anything.
The noise changed slightly. There arose rhythmic judders in the earth, like the stampede of a cow herd. Some of the men hesitated, other clear stopped, making their way back to the village. As the sound grew louder, they had to shout to be heard, and behind the rumble... What was that? It sounded almost like-
The trees burst apart as a torrent of figures surged from the forest. Alec had a split second to shout a warning to his sister before they were on them. The soldiers were instantly overwhelmed, disappearing in the throng, and Alec was soon lost in a sea of black. A hand lashed out at him from the mass, and he jerked away, falling into the grasp of something else, fingers clawed at him, rotting mouths gnashed for his flesh, he scrambled and twisted, frantically trying to find a way out. His searching hands found a stone, and he smashed it into one of the faces that was leering out at him from the crowd. The skull collapsed in a squelch, but the eyes still roved in their sockets, staring at him hungrily, wildly. Crying out in fear, Alec wriggled free and began crawling away. He was bleeding, he couldn’t tell where from, or perhaps the blood was someone else’s. All he knew was that there was blood. A lot of blood. Staining the grass crimson, he crawled along, being half trampled as the tide of figures surged towards his village. From what he saw on the ground, they were humanoid, their clothes torn rags, mismatched. The already stagnant air was saturated with the stink of rotting flesh, making Alec gag as he gasped.
With red-soaked hands, Alec dug his fingers into the dirt, pulling himself along as best he could. They kept coming, and occasionally hands would snatch at Alec, bare feet and shoes and boots would crunch into him as they pelted by, bloodshot eyes would seek him out, the things would go for him, giggling and gurgling maniacally as they tried to rip into his flesh. Overwhelmed in the sea of terrors, Alec lost himself to blind naked fear.
After hours, or days, he could not tell, he caught glimpse of the sky. The roar was there, but it was subsiding, and Alec lay on his back in the freshly trampled mud, eyes open, seeing nothing. When his vision slowly returned, the first thing he saw was smoke, rising in a gentle plume, its wispy clouds reaching for the sun. He blinked slowly, and as his eyes opened again, most of his vision was obscured, by a face.
It stared down at him.
“I think this one’s alive, daddy!” The girl shouted at someone out of sight.
“Well, finish it off then. It’s one less that we need to worry about.”
“I think it’s one of us daddy...” There was a pause, then footsteps, and another face appeared. Bigger, with a short beard. It blinked at him with wide eyes.
“By Gods, it’s Alec, Kat! Help me with him!” Roryk the carpenter knelt beside Alec’s still form, and checked his pulse. “We need to clean him up, find out where he’s hurt. Gods, he’s right in the middle of the field, they would’ve been all over him... Help me lift the boy, Kat.” The little girl helped the larger man as best she could, and together, they dragged Alec along the ground, eventually reaching a patch of stone where they laid him gently. His head lolled as it hit the stone, his eyes flickering.
Roryk gently padded along Alec’s beaten body, feeling for broken bones and torn skin. He muttered to himself as he worked.
“Mostly bruising... Scratches, a couple bites. Nasty gouge in his left ribcage...” Frowning, the carpenter pulled the clothing off Alec’s body, and instructed Kat to wash and beat them, and hang them over a tree. Then he rolled his sleeves up, and proceeded to do what he could for Alec’s wounds. The bruises and scratches he left untreated, and the bites he rinsed out with water from his leather skin, and bound them in torn fabric. The worrying one was the wound in Alec’s chest. While none of the ribs were broken or fractured, the cut had reached deep into the flesh. For a while, Roryk feared it may have punctured a lung, in which case the boy was long beyond saving. But Alec’s breathing remained steady, if a little shallow, so he dismissed the thought. He focussed on cleaning the cut the best he could, and before binding it in the cleanest strips of cloth he could find, he sprinkled a pinch of ground up herb onto the torn skin.
Roryk then sat back, waiting for Kat to return with the clothes, and occasionally giving the boy a glance, checking on his breathing.
The girl soon returned, carrying the damp clothing, and they set up camp, hanging Alec’s clothes over the fire, and finding what comfort they could amongst the rocks to sleep. The girl was nestled in the carpenter’s arms, and she sobbed quietly her father stroked her hair. The last thought in both their minds was the image of their broken village, smoking in ruins, not two hundred meters away.
If you want to hear more from these three, tell me!
Also, if you want something specific to happen to them, send me a message, or post a comment here. This is your interactive story, and I’ll write in your ideas as best I can.
Alec woke up from yet another night of fitful sleep, and turned under his blanket to see Esther, across the room in her own bed, still snoozing. Her auburn hair covered her face, and her breathing was slow and peaceful.
Quietly, carefully, he padded from the room, moving through the bungalow to the kitchen, where his ma was preparing breakfast, and his pa was sat at the table, pouring over papers.
His nose wrinkled as he smelt what was in the pot. "Mushroom soup, again?"
"Right now it's all we've got, so eat up and quit complaining." Said his ma, before asking, "Is your sister up yet?"
"No..." Grumbled Alec, taking a seat at the table that was crammed into their small kitchen.
"Esther! You're going to miss breakfast!" His ma's voice was strained, and still raspy from the nasty chest infection she was recovering from.
A rustle of sheets was heard from Alec and Esther's room, and then; "If it's mushroom stew again I'd rather starve, if it's all the same to you."
Ma glared at pa. "She's your daughter."
Alec's pa glanced up, before chuckling. "I'm not the one with the attitude problem. She clearly got that from you." But he got up, filled a bowl with ice-water from the barrel outside the front door, and stalked into the bedroom, an evil look on his face.
As the screaming of an enraged teenage girl ensued, Alec studied the papers his father had been reading so avidly.
The seal of the major of Tarvell, a modestly sized nearby town, was printed in wax at the top, and it read;
Attention inhabitants of the Yckarel.
The forest surrounding the village has been declared a region of danger. If your people must travel, stick to the roads, and be accompanied by guards.
The exact nature of this danger is not yet apparent to us, but rest assured, it will be dealt with swiftly.
A strict curfew is now placed on your village's inhabitants. Anyone seen venturing out after midnight will be taken for questioning. Anyone seen in the forest, or near the boundary, will be killed on sight.
I repeat, the woods are a danger zone.
I'm sure you're already aware of the disappearance of the inhabitants of Oakfields and Kainsley, as well as many villages around the area. It isn't certain, but we believe that what caused their vanishing was-
A hand slapped into the back of Alec's head, and he hit the table, forehead first. Esther dropped into the seat opposite him, grinning.
“Mornin’, Stinker!” She was shivering, and her hair was wet. “Excited for Choosing?”
Alec shuddered. Choosing day... The day of his eighteenth birthday, when, in his village, he would graduate from his general apprenticeship and become an adult. He didn’t feel ready.
“I don’t feel ready. But it’s not like I have a choice. I just hope I don’t get picked for hunting, or gathering.” He wasn’t fond of the forest. Its low limbs and dark shadows instilled within him a feeling of unease.
“Eh, you’ll be fine, Titch.” Despite Esther being four years younger than him, she was taller. She was mid-way through her general apprenticeship, the rigorous education that all children at the age of eight began, and did not finish until their coming-of-age choosing ceremony on their eighteenth birthday. It was obvious that, in four years time, she would become a huntress. Fast, with good climbing and archery skills, she spent a lot of time in the forest, helping to feed their family more than once when the winter had been particularly harsh one year.
Alec shrugged and toyed with his stew, reluctant to eat. His thoughts flickered to the note on the table, and he found himself frowning. It was unheard of, in his life, that Tarvell directly take control of Yckarel like this, particularly with the threat of violence included. Something bad must have happened.
For the moment, he pushed it from his mind. The choosing was going to happen in a few hours time, and he had to be ready.
Four days later...
BANG! ... And heavy footsteps woke Alec from his sleep. Before he could do anything, his vision went red. It took him a good few seconds to realize his sister’s hair was covering his face, and that she was sobbing into his side.
“Esther! You nearly took the damned door off its hin- Oh.” Pa looked awkwardly at the two of them, before backing out of the room, closing the door quietly.
Recently donned a man, Alec sighed, and remained in his bed, gently stroking Esther’s head until her sobbing eased, and she looked up at him, her eyes rimmed with red.
“I c-can’t be a h-hunter...” Her voice was choked and she looked utterly distraught.
“Why ever not?” Was Alec’s gently reply.
“The woods... They’re going to be set alight... All the game, the wildlife, it will leave, or burn.” She fought back more tears, her chest heaving slightly.
“What?! What on earth for? Yckarel gets most of its food from the forest, how do they expect us to-”
“They think whatever’s been causing all this... Disappearance, the crop failure, dark skies and breathing difficulties... They think it’s in the forest. So they’re going to-” A sob finished the end of the sentence for her, and she collapsed again into Alec’s arms. They laid together for some time, occasionally talking, and after a while, Esther left to dry her face.
Alec was troubled. His sister was loud and excitable, brash even. She held herself as if she were a quick flowing stream; emotions troubled her briefly, and were soon swept up in her fast paced life. It was uncommon to see her so upset, and it had Alec worried.
He sat up in his bed and looked through the grimy pane of the window. Despite it being mid-morning the skies were clouded over, unnaturally dark. Heaving himself off the mattress, got changed, splashed his face with ice water, and left the small bungalow he called home.
There was no wind, and a stagnant, sickly-sweet odor like rotting flesh hung on the air. An eery quiet had descended on the town, and had been there for weeks.
“If whatever’s causing this is indeed in the forest,” Alec thought, “then by Gods, burn it down and be done with it...”
At the choosing ceremony, Alec had been sought out by Roryk, a stout, rough looking man whose profession was carpentry. A class he had done well in, Alec found out that his teacher had recommended him to Roryk as a workshop-hand and senior apprentice.
They got on well enough. Alec learnt swiftly, which was lucky, as his new boss left him little room for error.
He was no more than ten paces aware from his mentor’s workshop, when a cry echoed from the direction of the forest. He turned, and peered between the small house of the village to see lines and lines of men, armed with weapons and torches, marching across the field that separated Yckarel from the forest. Their purple and blue garb gave them away as Tarvell’s militia, a small but efficient task force primed for carrying out their Mayor’s more important commands.
They advanced on the trees, torches aloft, and that’s when Alec saw a flicker of red dancing about in front of the ranks. His sister.
He sprinted in their direction, and the buildings of Yckarel flew past him and were left behind as he ran for the forest. He could hear her now, shouting.
“This is my home! Leave it be! Leave it be! It’s not dangerous!” She was crying, running back and forth down the line of soldiers. Some regarded her with pity, others with scorn. Most stared ahead, carrying out their orders.
Esther paused for a moment as she saw her brother, and beckoned to him frantically.
“Alec! Alec, they’re doing it now! Help me!”
“Get away from the soldiers you idiot!” He was breathing heavily, glaring at his sister. Always getting into trouble, this had to be the worst. Ma and Pa were going to throw a fit when they heard about this...
She flinched, visibly hurt by his words, biting back more tears, she appeared vulnerable for the first time.
“But, the forest... Alec... Help me.”
He shook his head firmly. They had reached the forest now, the trees casting shade over the few first rows of soldiers. The men set down their packs, and began readying their kindling equipment. Esther glared at them, and was about the say something more, when a low rumble sounded, far off in the trees. She blinked, and whipped around to peer between the shadowy trunks. Nothing out of the ordinary could be seen,
but the rumble continued, a sound like distant thunder, growing slowly louder.
The soldiers began to notice it too. A few of them hesitated, frowning in concern, but they had a job to do, and shrugged the noises off as a distant earthquake. They advanced on the trees, their torches ready, and Esther began frantically hurrying down their ranks, shouting obscenities, pleading, trying to convince and persuade them to stop, anything.
The noise changed slightly. There arose rhythmic judders in the earth, like the stampede of a cow herd. Some of the men hesitated, other clear stopped, making their way back to the village. As the sound grew louder, they had to shout to be heard, and behind the rumble... What was that? It sounded almost like-
The trees burst apart as a torrent of figures surged from the forest. Alec had a split second to shout a warning to his sister before they were on them. The soldiers were instantly overwhelmed, disappearing in the throng, and Alec was soon lost in a sea of black. A hand lashed out at him from the mass, and he jerked away, falling into the grasp of something else, fingers clawed at him, rotting mouths gnashed for his flesh, he scrambled and twisted, frantically trying to find a way out. His searching hands found a stone, and he smashed it into one of the faces that was leering out at him from the crowd. The skull collapsed in a squelch, but the eyes still roved in their sockets, staring at him hungrily, wildly. Crying out in fear, Alec wriggled free and began crawling away. He was bleeding, he couldn’t tell where from, or perhaps the blood was someone else’s. All he knew was that there was blood. A lot of blood. Staining the grass crimson, he crawled along, being half trampled as the tide of figures surged towards his village. From what he saw on the ground, they were humanoid, their clothes torn rags, mismatched. The already stagnant air was saturated with the stink of rotting flesh, making Alec gag as he gasped.
With red-soaked hands, Alec dug his fingers into the dirt, pulling himself along as best he could. They kept coming, and occasionally hands would snatch at Alec, bare feet and shoes and boots would crunch into him as they pelted by, bloodshot eyes would seek him out, the things would go for him, giggling and gurgling maniacally as they tried to rip into his flesh. Overwhelmed in the sea of terrors, Alec lost himself to blind naked fear.
After hours, or days, he could not tell, he caught glimpse of the sky. The roar was there, but it was subsiding, and Alec lay on his back in the freshly trampled mud, eyes open, seeing nothing. When his vision slowly returned, the first thing he saw was smoke, rising in a gentle plume, its wispy clouds reaching for the sun. He blinked slowly, and as his eyes opened again, most of his vision was obscured, by a face.
It stared down at him.
“I think this one’s alive, daddy!” The girl shouted at someone out of sight.
“Well, finish it off then. It’s one less that we need to worry about.”
“I think it’s one of us daddy...” There was a pause, then footsteps, and another face appeared. Bigger, with a short beard. It blinked at him with wide eyes.
“By Gods, it’s Alec, Kat! Help me with him!” Roryk the carpenter knelt beside Alec’s still form, and checked his pulse. “We need to clean him up, find out where he’s hurt. Gods, he’s right in the middle of the field, they would’ve been all over him... Help me lift the boy, Kat.” The little girl helped the larger man as best she could, and together, they dragged Alec along the ground, eventually reaching a patch of stone where they laid him gently. His head lolled as it hit the stone, his eyes flickering.
Roryk gently padded along Alec’s beaten body, feeling for broken bones and torn skin. He muttered to himself as he worked.
“Mostly bruising... Scratches, a couple bites. Nasty gouge in his left ribcage...” Frowning, the carpenter pulled the clothing off Alec’s body, and instructed Kat to wash and beat them, and hang them over a tree. Then he rolled his sleeves up, and proceeded to do what he could for Alec’s wounds. The bruises and scratches he left untreated, and the bites he rinsed out with water from his leather skin, and bound them in torn fabric. The worrying one was the wound in Alec’s chest. While none of the ribs were broken or fractured, the cut had reached deep into the flesh. For a while, Roryk feared it may have punctured a lung, in which case the boy was long beyond saving. But Alec’s breathing remained steady, if a little shallow, so he dismissed the thought. He focussed on cleaning the cut the best he could, and before binding it in the cleanest strips of cloth he could find, he sprinkled a pinch of ground up herb onto the torn skin.
Roryk then sat back, waiting for Kat to return with the clothes, and occasionally giving the boy a glance, checking on his breathing.
The girl soon returned, carrying the damp clothing, and they set up camp, hanging Alec’s clothes over the fire, and finding what comfort they could amongst the rocks to sleep. The girl was nestled in the carpenter’s arms, and she sobbed quietly her father stroked her hair. The last thought in both their minds was the image of their broken village, smoking in ruins, not two hundred meters away.
If you want to hear more from these three, tell me!
Also, if you want something specific to happen to them, send me a message, or post a comment here. This is your interactive story, and I’ll write in your ideas as best I can.
Give him a break Mich! 