Part Forty One... Back to the Xavier Team... Haven't had many comments lately, except for my short story parts... I better come up with my new comment contest soon for comments :P
Part XLI: Detour
Date: Yippah 8th, 114 A.U.
The rising sun cast its healing beams abroad to touch the rocky mountainside and the air ship that moved past it. Jroldin yawned as he left his quarters toward the front of the ship. Reynyagn was already out and staring intently at something up ahead. Jroldin moved next to Reynyagn and cocked his head to peer around him to see the mountains ahead.
“What is it?” Jroldin asked, seeing Reynyagn’s intent stare.
“Out there,” Reynyagn said, gesturing. Jroldin looked at where Reynyagn was gesturing and thought he could make out what Reynyagn was pointing at. It looked like a gray mass in the distance—almost looking like one of the mountains from Jroldin’s distance, though Jroldin thought it might be flying.
“What is it?” Jroldin asked.
“I’m trying to get some readings on it,” Reynyagn said. “But I think…” Reynyagn paused. “It’s rather far out and large enough that I suspect it to be an elven city.”
Jroldin focused on the small grey mass in the distance. “What?”
“A huge flying city,” Reynyagn said. “Picture it like one of the above-ground cities of old—just on a large base and having massive powerful thrusters on the bottom side that keep it afloat. It is in such cities that many elves live.”
“You mean…” Jroldin said. “That that’s-” The computer beeped and Reynyagn moved to see its reading.
“Yes,” Reynyagn said, looking at the screen. “That’s a huge floating elven city. And trust me. We don’t want to get anywhere near it.”
“We could go around it,” Jroldin said. “It looks like-”
“I’ve been checking that out,” Reynyagn said. “But the options aren’t terrible alluring. To the right, once we avoid the city we’d be moving toward a place blanketed by storms. And without a lot of tools in case the airship is hit, I’d rather not go there. And to the left we’d be moving back to the elves’ traditional homeland…”
“So?”
“I suppose it should be fine…” Reynyagn said. “But I worry about there being more cities there… I know that there are a fair amount of elven ground cities and labor camps there… And it will be higher elevation; I suppose this machine is supposed to do that, but given that we’ve only been trying it closer to the ground, I’m not sure how well it will withstand the higher elevation.”
“Well, if the problem there might be cities, given that there’s a flying city here, unless being off track is that bad…” Jroldin began.
“True,” Reynyagn said. “Better to go for a lower chance there than an automatic chance here of hitting a city. We go left then…” He began punching numbers into the computer as Rider came out.
“Greetings,” Rider said as he joined them. “What are you doing?” Jroldin quickly explained the problem and their solution.
“Very well, I suppose,” Rider said, and he pursed his lips as he clenched his hand into a fist. “I came from the elves’ traditional homeland.”
“Oh!” Jroldin said, intrigued to hear some of Rider’s mysterious past. “What did you do there?”
Rider said nothing for a moment before speaking. “I was a slave,” he said. “It’s unusual for an elf to be a slave, yes, but I was one. My parents had done something horribly wrong and so they got stripped of their status as an elf and were sent to work with the other races in the labor camps.”
“Labor camps?” Jroldin interrupted.
“It’s what the elves have done with most of the survivors from the other races,” Rider said. “They capture them and bring them to many of their labor camps where they do much of the menial labor required to keep their weak bodies from doing any work. It was at that labor camp that I spent the first ten years of my life at before I managed to get an opening and escaped. I nearly died, but I managed to escape. Fortune smiled on me so that I met with a dwarven scout party and joined them, and by that means managed to come into the mountains away from being constantly hunted.”
“Oh…” Jroldin said. “So that’s why you are an outcast.”
“Aye,” Rider said. “They treat them worse like animals, the elves do to the other races. Mind my words, Jroldin. There are few fates worse than being in the labor camps. I would sooner befriend a dog than one of those mongrel elves. I could strangle them all with my bare hands.”
Jroldin stepped back at the harshness of Rider’s words.
“You wouldn’t react so if you’ve seen the things that I have seen,” Rider said. “And I have seen things, Jroldin. Scenes that few, except perhaps you, Reynyagn—especially you given that you were a witness of the massacre—have seen. If you ever wonder why it is that you are fighting against the elves, go no further than to ask me. Or visit one of the labor camps for yourselves.” Rider spat on the ground. “Wicked beings.” And with that, he spun on a heel and left. Jroldin watched him go, unsure of what to say.
“He’s seen awful things,” Reynyagn said, as if he was reading Jroldin’s mind. “Things that have taken me over a century to wipe out of my mind. There are many horrible things in life, Jroldin. Take heed that you do not dwell upon them.”
Question of the Week: What do you think about Rider?
Part XLI: Detour
Date: Yippah 8th, 114 A.U.
The rising sun cast its healing beams abroad to touch the rocky mountainside and the air ship that moved past it. Jroldin yawned as he left his quarters toward the front of the ship. Reynyagn was already out and staring intently at something up ahead. Jroldin moved next to Reynyagn and cocked his head to peer around him to see the mountains ahead.
“What is it?” Jroldin asked, seeing Reynyagn’s intent stare.
“Out there,” Reynyagn said, gesturing. Jroldin looked at where Reynyagn was gesturing and thought he could make out what Reynyagn was pointing at. It looked like a gray mass in the distance—almost looking like one of the mountains from Jroldin’s distance, though Jroldin thought it might be flying.
“What is it?” Jroldin asked.
“I’m trying to get some readings on it,” Reynyagn said. “But I think…” Reynyagn paused. “It’s rather far out and large enough that I suspect it to be an elven city.”
Jroldin focused on the small grey mass in the distance. “What?”
“A huge flying city,” Reynyagn said. “Picture it like one of the above-ground cities of old—just on a large base and having massive powerful thrusters on the bottom side that keep it afloat. It is in such cities that many elves live.”
“You mean…” Jroldin said. “That that’s-” The computer beeped and Reynyagn moved to see its reading.
“Yes,” Reynyagn said, looking at the screen. “That’s a huge floating elven city. And trust me. We don’t want to get anywhere near it.”
“We could go around it,” Jroldin said. “It looks like-”
“I’ve been checking that out,” Reynyagn said. “But the options aren’t terrible alluring. To the right, once we avoid the city we’d be moving toward a place blanketed by storms. And without a lot of tools in case the airship is hit, I’d rather not go there. And to the left we’d be moving back to the elves’ traditional homeland…”
“So?”
“I suppose it should be fine…” Reynyagn said. “But I worry about there being more cities there… I know that there are a fair amount of elven ground cities and labor camps there… And it will be higher elevation; I suppose this machine is supposed to do that, but given that we’ve only been trying it closer to the ground, I’m not sure how well it will withstand the higher elevation.”
“Well, if the problem there might be cities, given that there’s a flying city here, unless being off track is that bad…” Jroldin began.
“True,” Reynyagn said. “Better to go for a lower chance there than an automatic chance here of hitting a city. We go left then…” He began punching numbers into the computer as Rider came out.
“Greetings,” Rider said as he joined them. “What are you doing?” Jroldin quickly explained the problem and their solution.
“Very well, I suppose,” Rider said, and he pursed his lips as he clenched his hand into a fist. “I came from the elves’ traditional homeland.”
“Oh!” Jroldin said, intrigued to hear some of Rider’s mysterious past. “What did you do there?”
Rider said nothing for a moment before speaking. “I was a slave,” he said. “It’s unusual for an elf to be a slave, yes, but I was one. My parents had done something horribly wrong and so they got stripped of their status as an elf and were sent to work with the other races in the labor camps.”
“Labor camps?” Jroldin interrupted.
“It’s what the elves have done with most of the survivors from the other races,” Rider said. “They capture them and bring them to many of their labor camps where they do much of the menial labor required to keep their weak bodies from doing any work. It was at that labor camp that I spent the first ten years of my life at before I managed to get an opening and escaped. I nearly died, but I managed to escape. Fortune smiled on me so that I met with a dwarven scout party and joined them, and by that means managed to come into the mountains away from being constantly hunted.”
“Oh…” Jroldin said. “So that’s why you are an outcast.”
“Aye,” Rider said. “They treat them worse like animals, the elves do to the other races. Mind my words, Jroldin. There are few fates worse than being in the labor camps. I would sooner befriend a dog than one of those mongrel elves. I could strangle them all with my bare hands.”
Jroldin stepped back at the harshness of Rider’s words.
“You wouldn’t react so if you’ve seen the things that I have seen,” Rider said. “And I have seen things, Jroldin. Scenes that few, except perhaps you, Reynyagn—especially you given that you were a witness of the massacre—have seen. If you ever wonder why it is that you are fighting against the elves, go no further than to ask me. Or visit one of the labor camps for yourselves.” Rider spat on the ground. “Wicked beings.” And with that, he spun on a heel and left. Jroldin watched him go, unsure of what to say.
“He’s seen awful things,” Reynyagn said, as if he was reading Jroldin’s mind. “Things that have taken me over a century to wipe out of my mind. There are many horrible things in life, Jroldin. Take heed that you do not dwell upon them.”
Question of the Week: What do you think about Rider?
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