mendoza
02-25-2011, 09:18 PM
The bright sun started to crawl its way up into the sky, brightening the already bustling and busy town of Baschen. The sun's bright beams did little to stir the working folk of the town, and hardly made a difference because of the artificial light beaming through many, many street lamps and store fronts. The long twisting streets were nearly full of people, and many of the stores were already open and selling their wares or services. While the buildings were drab and boring in colour, their towering, twisting and seemingly impossible shape gave quite a strange but unique look to the town. The townsfolk reacted to the strange layout and drab look of their industrious town by wearing the most obscure, bright and strange outfits and accessories. People went to such lengths as to wear small gear parts, or the clockwork of a pocket-watch as necklace pieces, accessories to hats and jackets. The unique town was made even further unique by the strange dress of the people, and many thought the place quite queer. Near the middle of the bustling town, in a wide twisting street lived the Halway family, a semi-famous family of mechanics and engineers. During the last two generations of the wealthy family however, tragic deaths and accidents had occurred and unwise financial decisions have crippled the high status of the family, and they have fallen on hard times. The Halway family house had stood for centuries, but steadily grew and grew, till it became a 5 story tower of rooms, twisting in the sky, seemingly about to topple. It was in this house, in the once esteemed Halway family, lived Alaric Halway. A boy of about 15, ignorant of his part to play in the world, with rogueish curly hair, diminutive stature, and bright blue eyes, lived. Alaric blearily opened his eyes to the blaring sunlight through his window on the 5th floor of the Halway residence. He clambered out of bed and quickly slammed the window shutters closed. Alaric groaned. What a dreadful morning he thought. A dreadful morning for a dreadful day. He scratched his left shoulder-blade, the recently imprinted tattoo was itching awfully. It was one thing to be happy about at least, he thought. He had wanted that tattoo for a long time, and on his 15th birthday, his parents had succumbed and got him it. It was the shape of a gear, about 5 inches across and coloured in. There was a small circle in the middle, left clear of ink except for a small AH, his initials. His parents had wanted him to at least get a tattoo that would represent the family. So he had. He would have preferred it without the initials however. Alaric looked about his messy room. It was quite large, as the fifth floor was just one room. It had been the room of his grandfather, Athla Halway. In his prime, he had been one of the most powerful men in the city, and his name still bears meaning in the busy town of Baschen. Alaric had inherited his grandfathers room after his death, and much of the room still remained his grandfathers, undisturbed, with Alaric unwilling to clear away the dust and his grandfather's things. It was a constant reminder of his grief, but the memories of his grandfather also brought great joy to him. Alaric stepped into his bathroom, an extension to the room, that hung limply over the side of the floor.He showered briefly, and pulled on his clothing.He wore black trousers, with a white dress shirt under a black vest with gear shaped buttons. He viewed himself in a mirror and frowned. Unhappy with his outfit, he stomped down the stairs right down to the 2nd floor to the kitchen, and a house servant brought out a plate of food for him. Bacon and eggs. Again. He sighed. An awful breakfast to go with his dreadful morning. He looked about the kitchen, and saw only one other person on the long oak table, it was his wizened old grandmother, driven mad from grief. She sat slumped at the table, talking to her porridge about the financial difficulties and the recent loss (with a sob) of her dearly beloved late husband. Alaric sighed and pushed his food away. He got up and walked down to the first floor, into the library. It had a wooden plank floor, and massive shelves that filled entire walls, that were packed with books. He sat down on a large sofa, next to his comatose father. His father had taken to heavy drinking, and heavy hangovers were a common sight to Alaric now. His father groaned and looked over to his son. Alaric looked over at his distressed, hungover father. "Morning, father"
"Good morning, son. I got you a job!" Alaric's father exclaimed in a half-drunk, half asleep manner. Alaric positively beamed at this.
"Really? What did you get me?" His mind raced through the possibilities of what his first job could be. Engineer assistant? Perhaps he would be trained to take care of the great (or small) cogs of the massive steam engines that gave power to the city, or help in the further designs of more refined steam engines, to conserve space and the foul pollution of Baschen. He would love to work even in a tinkerers or inventors store. He listened eagerly to what his father was about it say.
"I got you a job working the gears on a Steam Golem." His father said rather blankly. Alaric's mind went wild. A Steam Golem?! A huge monstrosity of metal and gears. A thing that could move mountains, level cities! But to work on one? To maintain the literally tons of metal, gears and moving parts, can be one of the most dangerous jobs you could acquire. Scaffolding that towered into the sky all around the giant metal beast is unstable at best, and workers would hold a metal staff about 7 feet, and prod and move cogs and parts that work deep in the machine to test for problems, and to make minor repairs. Deaths in this kind of work were quite often, with people falling from the scaffolding, or indeed into the machine itself, which is quite a gruesome, bloody death, as it is nearly impossible to get anyone out, and the stains would remain for a long time. Surely his father was joking, Alaric thought. He was merely fifteen, and his first job was on a Steam Golem? His first job was meant to be minor, something to fill time between studies of engineering, literacy and polearms training (a tradition to the Halway family). "How did I get accepted into such a job? I'm only fifteen!" Exclaimed Alaric.
"Oh you know, a few choice words with the lead engineer, a bit of blackmail...The usual stuff you know." Said Alaric's father still in a half-drunken way. Alaric knew what his father meant. Even now, to be a enemy of the Halway family was not a wise choice. "Well, I'll be off now father. Have a pleasant, sober day won't you?" Alaric said.
"Sure son, sure. Farewell." His father said as he dozed off once again on the large couch. Alaric walked down to the entrance garden, a space between the estates high walls and official entrance to the tower. It was filled with flowing streams, grass and trees. A place full of life. It was a stark contrast against the dark, industrial city that closed around it. Alaric strode down the long cobblestone path that led to the massive steel portcullis that served as the entrance to the garden. He reached the giant portcullis and signaled the guards upon the huge stone wall to open it for him. Alaric quickly ducked under the portcullis when he could, to save the guards the silly formality of opening it the full way. The guards gave him a wave with their muskets as he exited the estate and Alaric returned the wave with a smile. He strolled down the busy street, other big estate towers above him like most people in the street. He avoided most of the curious stares from common folk, and his celebrity went mostly unnoticed. He headed down the twisting streets toward the the market district, where he knew it would be massively crowded, but he was fascinated by all the quirky and wonderful shops that lined the long street. Over time, that street became the centre of shops and fashion, and was always populated by upper class folk, wearing the smartest and most expensive fashions. He rounded a corner, and the huge long street stretched before him, showcasing the cities most popular stores and brands, and regal men and woman swaggered down the street in ridiculous yet fashionable outfits, trying to be the envy of the common, less wealthy, working folk. The sun was painfully bright, and Alaric shielded his eyes from its hateful glare. He dug a hand into his leather trousers right pocket for his wallet and pulled it out. A hefty amount of folded paper notes and small flat metal gear tokens (which served as coins in Baschen) wore and tore the wallet quite a bit, and the wallets leather was ripped in places. Suddenly, the wallet seemingly vanished from his hands, and Alaric managed to shout the word thief before a large hand slapped against his mouth and dragged him away into a dim lit alley nearby. Alaric struggled against the huge man that held him, and the taste of metal filled his mouth. He bit down on the mans hand as hard as he could, and instantly regretted it. His teeth hit solid, unyielding metal, and blood spurted from Alaric's gums, as his teeth were driven into them from the rebound. Alaric tried to cry out in pain, but was muted by the mans mechanical arm. Alaric struck with his elbow, and hit the man in the stomach. The huge man's grip faulted for a moment in surprise of Alaric's hidden strength, and Alaric took that brief moment to scramble away, and take a ready stance to face the man. He knew what he was doing was wrong, he should run, he should run back to his family's estate and report the incident, but something took a hold of him, and could no longer will his body to run. Thoughts of kidnapping, death and slavery filled his head, and he started to shake and it felt as if something was rising up within him. Alaric looked at the man at the opposite end of the alley. He was indeed huge, with a bald head and bare chest that were covered in long brutal scars. The mechanical arm of the man looked just as powerful as his other still human arm, and the flesh around the joint of metal strained as the man flexed. The would-be kidnapper started to sprint toward Alaric and hit him squarely across the jaw, and sent the smaller boy sprawling to the ground, landing with a sickly bang as his head hit the hard stone. Lights flashed in Alaric's eyes, before blood clouded his vision from a huge cut in his forehead. The man started to cackle and bellow laughter at the puny boys suffering. Alaric on the verge of blacking out, clenched his fists and growled a primitive bark before getting to his feet to face the man once again. "Oh, you wanna go again boy?" Laughed the horrible man. Alaric just stood there, awaiting the mans oncoming blow. The man yelled and his fist flew at Alaric, who caught the mans wrist just before he was punched again. Alaric took the mans wrist in both hands, and with a yell, threw him against a cold, stone wall. With a sick crunch, the man collapsed to the ground, his now bloodied frame laying limply. Alaric stood dumbfounded at what he had done, and where the immense strength he had somehow summoned was from. He looked down at his shaking hands, palm facing upwards. Blood started to patter onto them like raindrops and he dropped to the ground, losing consciousness.
Darkness enveloped Alaric Halway and he floated in the nothingness of the void. Voices seemed to surround him, low and whispering. A figure appeared before him. A beautiful woman, with massive white wings that stretched out. She smiled warmly at him and started to move toward Alaric. He blearily looked at her, and started to reach with his arms. The woman seemed about to touch his bloodied and bruised face with her hands, when she cried out, just as black mechanical, sickly looking tentacles squeezed her and she was dragged away back into the blackness. Alaric yelled out and tried to move toward where the wonderful being had disappeared when he realized he couldn't move. He looked down at his body and vomited. His body was distorted and broken. Bits of gears, metal spokes and springs were entangled within him, which started to turn and wrench through his bloody flesh, and the sounds of a great machine behind him started. Alaric tried to crane his head around as much as he could but could get no clear view of the machine his body seemed to be attached to, almost like an integral ingredient to some sick process. Alaric's mind could take no more, and he returned to consciousness.
Alaric opened his eyes and looked to the sky, the bright stars twinkling down at him. The bleeding from the cut on his head had stopped, dried blood caked his forehead and cheek which cracked as Alaric got to his feet. A horrible smell reminded Alaric of what he must have done to the man that had assaulted him. The mans body still lay there in a heap, rats and other rodents nibbling at his dead flesh. Alaric retched at the sight. Suddenly a voice called out from the end of the alley. "Hey! You! Get back here!". Alaric looked round at the man. It was one of Baschen's city guards. He mind tried to process what was going on, but was still choking on the strange dream when Alaric had blacked out. Alaric realized his situation didn't look to good, with a dead body next to him, and blood smeared across his face which had also stained his clothes. Panic finally seized him, and Alaric ran as fast as he could. He didn't know where he was going, but it was all too much. The man, the dream and now this. He had murdered a man. Surely, it was self defense, but Alaric couldn't shake the thought he had killed someone. The guard gave chase, and Alaric winded through different small alleys before coming to a dead end. He tried to turn back, but the guard blocked his way, and leveled a musket rifle at him. "Just come with me lad, and we'll sort this out". The guards finger started to squeeze the trigger on his gun gently, and Alaric started to slowly walk toward him. "Theres a good lad, now just come with me..." The guard started, with a grin coming across his face. Alaric had seen how the guard had gently started to squeeze the trigger, but now with the grin, this man seemed just as ill natured as the man who had attacked him hours and hours before. Alaric sprinted the last few yards and took the guard by surprise and kneed him in the stomach. Blood spurted from the guards mouth and Alaric caught his rifle as his grip loosened. Grimacing, Alaric pushed past the fallen guard, gun and all. Before the end of the alley, he saw a small wooden door and pushed into it. Alaric thanked the Machine-God that it opened, and he slammed it behind him, sliding the bolt to lock the door safely. The dark building he had entered looked like it had been abandoned for years, dust and cobwebs covered the place. Alaric managed to spark a lantern with a tinderbox, both found on a large table in the middle of the room. He dropped the gun onto the old metal table and wondered why he had bothered to take it. He sat down heavily and tried to work out all of what had happened. The dream had been so real, but Alaric it was sure it was just that, a dream, yet he still felt queasy just thinking about it. Alaric felt his forehead, a massive scab of dried blood covered the cut, but he knew he would need it bandaged soon. He rubbed his jaw and cheek, massive purple bruises a grim reminder of the man with the mechanical arm. Alaric noticed some stairs to a second floor, which was completely bare except for some large windows which were boarded up and closed. He climbed to the third and last story, where a small bed and chest occupied the room. A single huge glass window made up the roof and some of the walls, and Alaric looked back to the stars. A shooting star came crashing down far in the distance, almost like a fallen angel Alaric thought.
To be continued.
"Good morning, son. I got you a job!" Alaric's father exclaimed in a half-drunk, half asleep manner. Alaric positively beamed at this.
"Really? What did you get me?" His mind raced through the possibilities of what his first job could be. Engineer assistant? Perhaps he would be trained to take care of the great (or small) cogs of the massive steam engines that gave power to the city, or help in the further designs of more refined steam engines, to conserve space and the foul pollution of Baschen. He would love to work even in a tinkerers or inventors store. He listened eagerly to what his father was about it say.
"I got you a job working the gears on a Steam Golem." His father said rather blankly. Alaric's mind went wild. A Steam Golem?! A huge monstrosity of metal and gears. A thing that could move mountains, level cities! But to work on one? To maintain the literally tons of metal, gears and moving parts, can be one of the most dangerous jobs you could acquire. Scaffolding that towered into the sky all around the giant metal beast is unstable at best, and workers would hold a metal staff about 7 feet, and prod and move cogs and parts that work deep in the machine to test for problems, and to make minor repairs. Deaths in this kind of work were quite often, with people falling from the scaffolding, or indeed into the machine itself, which is quite a gruesome, bloody death, as it is nearly impossible to get anyone out, and the stains would remain for a long time. Surely his father was joking, Alaric thought. He was merely fifteen, and his first job was on a Steam Golem? His first job was meant to be minor, something to fill time between studies of engineering, literacy and polearms training (a tradition to the Halway family). "How did I get accepted into such a job? I'm only fifteen!" Exclaimed Alaric.
"Oh you know, a few choice words with the lead engineer, a bit of blackmail...The usual stuff you know." Said Alaric's father still in a half-drunken way. Alaric knew what his father meant. Even now, to be a enemy of the Halway family was not a wise choice. "Well, I'll be off now father. Have a pleasant, sober day won't you?" Alaric said.
"Sure son, sure. Farewell." His father said as he dozed off once again on the large couch. Alaric walked down to the entrance garden, a space between the estates high walls and official entrance to the tower. It was filled with flowing streams, grass and trees. A place full of life. It was a stark contrast against the dark, industrial city that closed around it. Alaric strode down the long cobblestone path that led to the massive steel portcullis that served as the entrance to the garden. He reached the giant portcullis and signaled the guards upon the huge stone wall to open it for him. Alaric quickly ducked under the portcullis when he could, to save the guards the silly formality of opening it the full way. The guards gave him a wave with their muskets as he exited the estate and Alaric returned the wave with a smile. He strolled down the busy street, other big estate towers above him like most people in the street. He avoided most of the curious stares from common folk, and his celebrity went mostly unnoticed. He headed down the twisting streets toward the the market district, where he knew it would be massively crowded, but he was fascinated by all the quirky and wonderful shops that lined the long street. Over time, that street became the centre of shops and fashion, and was always populated by upper class folk, wearing the smartest and most expensive fashions. He rounded a corner, and the huge long street stretched before him, showcasing the cities most popular stores and brands, and regal men and woman swaggered down the street in ridiculous yet fashionable outfits, trying to be the envy of the common, less wealthy, working folk. The sun was painfully bright, and Alaric shielded his eyes from its hateful glare. He dug a hand into his leather trousers right pocket for his wallet and pulled it out. A hefty amount of folded paper notes and small flat metal gear tokens (which served as coins in Baschen) wore and tore the wallet quite a bit, and the wallets leather was ripped in places. Suddenly, the wallet seemingly vanished from his hands, and Alaric managed to shout the word thief before a large hand slapped against his mouth and dragged him away into a dim lit alley nearby. Alaric struggled against the huge man that held him, and the taste of metal filled his mouth. He bit down on the mans hand as hard as he could, and instantly regretted it. His teeth hit solid, unyielding metal, and blood spurted from Alaric's gums, as his teeth were driven into them from the rebound. Alaric tried to cry out in pain, but was muted by the mans mechanical arm. Alaric struck with his elbow, and hit the man in the stomach. The huge man's grip faulted for a moment in surprise of Alaric's hidden strength, and Alaric took that brief moment to scramble away, and take a ready stance to face the man. He knew what he was doing was wrong, he should run, he should run back to his family's estate and report the incident, but something took a hold of him, and could no longer will his body to run. Thoughts of kidnapping, death and slavery filled his head, and he started to shake and it felt as if something was rising up within him. Alaric looked at the man at the opposite end of the alley. He was indeed huge, with a bald head and bare chest that were covered in long brutal scars. The mechanical arm of the man looked just as powerful as his other still human arm, and the flesh around the joint of metal strained as the man flexed. The would-be kidnapper started to sprint toward Alaric and hit him squarely across the jaw, and sent the smaller boy sprawling to the ground, landing with a sickly bang as his head hit the hard stone. Lights flashed in Alaric's eyes, before blood clouded his vision from a huge cut in his forehead. The man started to cackle and bellow laughter at the puny boys suffering. Alaric on the verge of blacking out, clenched his fists and growled a primitive bark before getting to his feet to face the man once again. "Oh, you wanna go again boy?" Laughed the horrible man. Alaric just stood there, awaiting the mans oncoming blow. The man yelled and his fist flew at Alaric, who caught the mans wrist just before he was punched again. Alaric took the mans wrist in both hands, and with a yell, threw him against a cold, stone wall. With a sick crunch, the man collapsed to the ground, his now bloodied frame laying limply. Alaric stood dumbfounded at what he had done, and where the immense strength he had somehow summoned was from. He looked down at his shaking hands, palm facing upwards. Blood started to patter onto them like raindrops and he dropped to the ground, losing consciousness.
Darkness enveloped Alaric Halway and he floated in the nothingness of the void. Voices seemed to surround him, low and whispering. A figure appeared before him. A beautiful woman, with massive white wings that stretched out. She smiled warmly at him and started to move toward Alaric. He blearily looked at her, and started to reach with his arms. The woman seemed about to touch his bloodied and bruised face with her hands, when she cried out, just as black mechanical, sickly looking tentacles squeezed her and she was dragged away back into the blackness. Alaric yelled out and tried to move toward where the wonderful being had disappeared when he realized he couldn't move. He looked down at his body and vomited. His body was distorted and broken. Bits of gears, metal spokes and springs were entangled within him, which started to turn and wrench through his bloody flesh, and the sounds of a great machine behind him started. Alaric tried to crane his head around as much as he could but could get no clear view of the machine his body seemed to be attached to, almost like an integral ingredient to some sick process. Alaric's mind could take no more, and he returned to consciousness.
Alaric opened his eyes and looked to the sky, the bright stars twinkling down at him. The bleeding from the cut on his head had stopped, dried blood caked his forehead and cheek which cracked as Alaric got to his feet. A horrible smell reminded Alaric of what he must have done to the man that had assaulted him. The mans body still lay there in a heap, rats and other rodents nibbling at his dead flesh. Alaric retched at the sight. Suddenly a voice called out from the end of the alley. "Hey! You! Get back here!". Alaric looked round at the man. It was one of Baschen's city guards. He mind tried to process what was going on, but was still choking on the strange dream when Alaric had blacked out. Alaric realized his situation didn't look to good, with a dead body next to him, and blood smeared across his face which had also stained his clothes. Panic finally seized him, and Alaric ran as fast as he could. He didn't know where he was going, but it was all too much. The man, the dream and now this. He had murdered a man. Surely, it was self defense, but Alaric couldn't shake the thought he had killed someone. The guard gave chase, and Alaric winded through different small alleys before coming to a dead end. He tried to turn back, but the guard blocked his way, and leveled a musket rifle at him. "Just come with me lad, and we'll sort this out". The guards finger started to squeeze the trigger on his gun gently, and Alaric started to slowly walk toward him. "Theres a good lad, now just come with me..." The guard started, with a grin coming across his face. Alaric had seen how the guard had gently started to squeeze the trigger, but now with the grin, this man seemed just as ill natured as the man who had attacked him hours and hours before. Alaric sprinted the last few yards and took the guard by surprise and kneed him in the stomach. Blood spurted from the guards mouth and Alaric caught his rifle as his grip loosened. Grimacing, Alaric pushed past the fallen guard, gun and all. Before the end of the alley, he saw a small wooden door and pushed into it. Alaric thanked the Machine-God that it opened, and he slammed it behind him, sliding the bolt to lock the door safely. The dark building he had entered looked like it had been abandoned for years, dust and cobwebs covered the place. Alaric managed to spark a lantern with a tinderbox, both found on a large table in the middle of the room. He dropped the gun onto the old metal table and wondered why he had bothered to take it. He sat down heavily and tried to work out all of what had happened. The dream had been so real, but Alaric it was sure it was just that, a dream, yet he still felt queasy just thinking about it. Alaric felt his forehead, a massive scab of dried blood covered the cut, but he knew he would need it bandaged soon. He rubbed his jaw and cheek, massive purple bruises a grim reminder of the man with the mechanical arm. Alaric noticed some stairs to a second floor, which was completely bare except for some large windows which were boarded up and closed. He climbed to the third and last story, where a small bed and chest occupied the room. A single huge glass window made up the roof and some of the walls, and Alaric looked back to the stars. A shooting star came crashing down far in the distance, almost like a fallen angel Alaric thought.
To be continued.