Spizak's Story

[Nick Shogun]

[OOC: I apoligize if my geography of Gaera isn’t up to par-- I’m not too familiar with the
Nekonia regions of Igala. Thankies!]

Noises of blaring thunder and explosions echoed through hollow halls and empty rooms lain
with floors of hay and dirt. Crude metal objects lined the walls, along with massive black
chamberpots. There was a feeling of despair, but only from the blind man’s perspective.

This was the blacksmith’s home.

“Hey Sigmund!” came the shout of a burly man lumbering down mainstreet toward the hay-
thatched roof that covered the blacksmith’s work area. A bald man looked up, frowning, but
lightened his expression when he saw his company. He was tall and lanky, as well as skinny,
with a pair of black eyebrows and a cut on his cheek that was nearly indistinguishable but still
ever present. The name he answered to was Sigmund Lockhart, and not much else. As the town’s
only blacksmith, he made a modest living and had friends by the handful.

The large fellow that now towered over him was known as Gimmel Trask, the Bear, an
enormous farmer who dwelled on the outskirts of the small town of Flora, which was established
near a lake some two-hundred years prior. Always capable of making himself known with a
single loud greeting, the Bear was revered as a soft-hearted giant who could easily beat up every
man in the town if he would choose to.

“Gimmel! Well, if this isn’t a pleasant surprise! I don’t believe I’ve seen you all week,” greeted
Sigmund as the Bear took a seat on one of the cooled rocks that Sigmund had piled on the
ground.

“Oh, I’ve been busy with harvest, Lockhart. Ya know, the tomatoes are coming in quite nicely. I
can give ya a discount if you want-- I still owe you one for those replacement horseshoes you
made for ol’ Maria.”

“Never. I can’t accept handouts from you. I’ve always thought of the farming business as a risky
one. Keep your tomatoes; I’ll buy them at market when I need some.”

“Heh, just like you, Lockhart. Hey, I just stopped into the pub on the way here. Seems there’s a
new family just moved into the old Celluk house. They’ve got a right pretty daughter, probably
just your type. I’d snatch her up but for I’m already hitched.”

Sigmund merely smiled. “In a profession like mine I’m always busy. I wouldn’t have time to
take on a wife. And who wants to marry the town blacksmith? Especially when he looks like I
do?” the young man asked, rubbing his sweaty forehead.

“Aww, I think some ladies do find the bald look attractive, Lockhart. Go ahead down there and
introduce yourself!”

“Maybe another day, my friend, maybe another day. As you can see, I’m fairly busy with my
current duty. I’m making a new shovel for the Knowles. Their old one’s a piece of cow @#%$.”

“Gotcha, Lockhar--”

Gimmel stopped his sentence as quickly as he started it. His gaze fell to the ground, and after a
while Sigmund heard it too-- the faint sound of hoofs-- a great deal of them as well. As he
looked in the direction of mainstreet that was close enough for him to see the edge of the town,
his eyes locked on a peculiar sight-- a large group of men on horseback, riding toward the village
at a remarkable speed. Sigmund was shocked. What could be going on here? Who were these
men? He didn’t have to wait long for answers. The riders entered the town soon enough,
swinging swords and axes and weilding spears. These people weren’t friendly, it seemed.

“Trask, gather the men! We’ve got trouble on our hands!” yelled Sigmund, but Gimmel was
already heading in the opposite direction to get together as many fighting men as he could.
Sigmund watched as some of the horsemen tossed nets on the bystanders who were too petrified
by fear to run. He also noticed the horse-drawn carriages taking up the rear. But they weren’t
carriages-- they were cages! He had heard of such men before. These were slave-traders, men
who ransacked small towns and captured innocent villagers who they sold into slavery off in
distant areas of the contienent. Slavery was not unheard of in Igala, of course. A very select few
of the people in Flora even owed one of two slaves. But what was happening right now-- women,
children and men being forced into cages to be sold-- was barbaric!

An instant later he had the shovel, still heated from being over the flames, in his hands, and an
expression of pure hatred on his face. This was not acceptable! But before he could do anything,
they were upon him. Three dark-skinned men with bushy black beards, weilding axes, rushed
toward him with a net in tow. He swung his shovel once, missing the first man, and that mistake
was all that was needed. The swing threw him off balance and sent him sprawling into the dirt,
as the net closed down upon him. Then he lost consciousness.

[OOC: Wordperfect>Forum=Craponastick!]

[pd Rydia]

This reminds me that a while back, I was creating a nation heavily into slave trade and labor...hm...maybe I should get back on that, or something...

Oh, and story bump.


<p><div style="text-align:center">

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"On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me...an F.N.W.C.!"
-- VampireJesterJinx (VA by...Dia! :D!)</div></p>Edited by: pd Rydia&nbsp; at: 6/10/05 17:12