Raccoon/GawainHistory
History of a Self-Styled Hero
The sun shines down on a field of dirt cordoned off by pennants tied to strings. A crowd of people stand just outside of the strings, cheering, drinking and generally being merry as they watch the events transpiring inside the cordoned off area.
Today is the day of the festival, where the villages of Cornwell and Buckcreek face off in a sports tournament and have for as long as anyone can remember. The children look forward to it and are always fiercely competitive when it comes to the sports. After all, all sorts of benefits are earned for the players who win.
Currently, the Buckcreek team is several points in the lead. Most of those points have been earned by the star player, Gawain, but by now he has become the target of the larger Cornwell boys. Despite this, he always seems to worm free and score more points... and as the gap grows, tempers begin to flare.
Once again the whistle sounds and Gawain tears off running, a smile on his face. He has always been naturally light on his feet, excelling at sports, but today he has been doing exceptionally well. He watches the sand filled sack go flying through the air with one eye, as he watches one of the Cornwell brutes charging towards him.
He waits until the last moment before digging in his heel and spinning to the left, the Cornwell player diving past him by just a hair's breadth. As his spin completes, he plants both feet, bending at the knees and leaps high into the air. His hand closes around the sack at the same time as another player strikes the back of his knees, sending him careening end over end to the ground.
While he hits hard, he manages to retain most of his breath, but it is lost in the next instant as a body slams into him. Opening his eyes, he has just enough time to see an angry, sweat-covered face before it is blocked from view by a fist. Being much smaller than the Cornwell player, he has no way to resist as the fist descends several times in quick succession, pain ripping through his skull each time...
Sometime during it he must have closed his eyes, for when he stops feeling the blows he has to open them, to see the Cornwell boy scrambling backward. He canfeel the caste mark on his forehead burning, he can see the light of the glow above his eyes, and he can feel the undeniable power flowing through him. Realization of what else he sees, however, quickly comes to him. From the referee, to the other players, to his own family... there are only looks of fear.
With wet blood running down his face, dripping off his eyebrows and chin, he stands and immediately goes over to his parents. Even they have looks of fear, but surely it can't be him can it? As he approaches, they back away, and he knows for certain that it is him. He stops in his tracks, giving them a confused look, and asks uncertainly, "What is it, mother? Father?"
For a moment, neither answer. Whispers begin going up and down the gathered villagers, and the few bits he manages to capture are simply, "Anathema!" and "Call the militia!" He looks once again to his parents, as people begin to run towards the village, and his father wraps his arms around his mother.
He will never forget his father's words. "Run away, Gawain," his hoarse voice whispered, eyes turned away. "Run or they will kill you. We will leave something at your special place, but never come here. Leave, and never come back."
For a moment, he can't move, he can't seem to understand his father's words. He starts to step forward, but his father's shouted "Leave! Now!", finally penetrates his shocked brain. Still not understanding anything, he turns on his heel and runs. He runs from his family, his village, and everything he has ever known.
He runs until he collapsed from exhaustion, his father's words filling his mind, "Run or they will kill you". He ran leaving the roads and entering the forests. He ran, ignoring the branches that caught his clothes, the creeks he stumbled into, and anything he may have heard or seen along the way.
As he lay there on the mattress of grass, fallen leaves and branches, he cries himself to sleep, not understanding a thing.
---
Much later, he awakens to a dark forest, the sounds of nocturnal animals all around him. For a time, he stays there, trembling in fear of everything around him, seeing shadows move and hearing the rustling of some unseen thing. In time, when nothing leaps form the shadows and devours him, he stands and begins making his way to his special place.
A tall boulder sitting in the middle of a small alcove of trees is his special place. From the top of this boulder he could see the entire valley, from the village of Buckcreek to the rooftops of Cornwell, and everything between. At the base, a hollow has been formed between the large rock and a smaller rock, and it is here that his parents have left something for him.
A small note tells him how much the both of them love him, and tries to explain his birth as an anathema, but so much is simple superstition and not enough fact. It does get the point across that if he returns, someone will kill him. It goes on to tell him that he may have hunters behind him soon, people that want to kill him for what he has become. It warns him of showing the mark on his forehead to people, and then goes on to tell him what he might ought to do next.
Other than the note, a small pouch contains coins for his journey, and a backpack contains clothes more suitable for traveling and a few days provisions.
Taking up the backpack and pouch, he stands slowly, a small smile on his face. Despite everything, just knowing his parents still love him and are worried about him is enough. While fear and doubt nag at him, he at least has this to keep him strong. And so, he begins his journey -- lost, alone, and filled with fear and doubt... but with a small boost to start him off.
His journey across the land takes him from village to village, his caste mark fading after several weeks and from then on his journey becomes somewhat easier. His young age allows him some relief as people offer him food and shelter for a time. While many offer to allow him to stay forever, he has to decline no matter how much he wishes he could, for he knows that -- as his parents said -- there are people pursuing him.
It isn't until nearly a month after leaving his village that he begins on his path as a hero. It happened on a main road between a village and somewhat large town. He had seen the carriage pass him, filled with rich young men and women who didn't even spare him a glance. All he felt was a bit of amusement that they are spared the need to walk.
Some time later, however, he scales a hill to find the carriage pulled off to the side, one of the horses standing free of its harness and wandering aimlessly. He lifts one of his eyebrows in bewilderment, hooking his thumbs through the straps of his backpack, and slowly approaches. His eyes move over the back of the carriage carefully, listening for the sounds of giggling or something, like he had heard when they passed him earlier. Listening as he was for small sounds, he is rather startled when a scream comes from the other side of the carriage.
Not thinking at all, he sprints around the carriage to find a group of men surrounding one of the young women. Unlike the rich boys that were inside the carriage earlier, these are wearing ragged clothes, suited to villagers or thugs. They each have a small sword or dagger at their hip.
As one grabs the girl by the wrist and presses her against the carriage, his dirty face descending towards hers, Gawain steps forward. His voice quivers ever so slight as he says to them, "Hey. What's going on here?"
The girl has enough presence of mind, and some degree of kindness, to immediately scream, "What are you doing? Run! Run, they will kill you!"
The man holding her, however, nods his head towards the newcomer. "We don't need no witnesses. Kill 'im." He pays the boy no more attention as he lowers his head back toward his prize, his hands groping over the rich girl's chest.
A large man slowly approaches Gawain, a cruel grin forming on his lips. "Sorry kid, should've minded yer own business, yeah?" Without warning, he pulls the blade free and slashes with it straight from the sheath, aimed for the young boy's face.
That same warmth from that first day that began his journey away from home surrounds him, fills him, and motivates him for what he should do. Without really understanding how or why, he uses that warmth, channels it, and casually ducks away from the blow. The blade practically just seems to move in slow motion as he leans back away from it.
The look of shock on the thug's face is nearly identically mirrored on his own, but he has the urge to press the advantage while he still can and gives in to that. His small hand grips the thug's wrist as it moves to the end of its arc, his body unnaturally light as he twists himself around it, and slams his foot forward into the thug's face. More startling than what he just did is the strength he could feel behind the kick, his foot connecting solidly with the thug's face, flattening then breaking the nose, the cheek bones following shortly after.
As he flips over the man's wrist and settles gently to the ground, he blinks in surprise as the thug falls backwards, a short jet of blood rising from the remnants of the man's face. Gawain had fought before, many times, but never like that. In truth, he was a little bit reviled at himself for causing that much damage to the man. In fact, the man really needs help!
Lifting his head, he calls out to the men and points at their fallen comrade. "I'm sorry, he tried to hit me with the sword. You should really help him. I don't know what to do."
Instead of helping their fallen comrade, they each seem to growl in unison, getting menacing looks on their faces as they draw their weapons. "Yer gonna regret doin' that, you li'l punk!" Even the leader has tossed away his treasure, as she has apparently fainted, falling to the ground as soon as he releases her.
Gawain can only back away slowing as the group of thugs approach, a slightly worried look on his face... but then the warmth fills him again and all worry vanishes in and instant...
Nearly ten minutes later, Gawain finds himself kneeling next to the ditch, emptying the contents of his stomach. As he catches his breath, bringing a hand up to wipe his mouth off, he whines quietly, "I don't like this. I really don't like this." He doesn't even attempt to look behind him.
All of the men lay on the grass, staining it red with their own blood. Some of them are dead, others quickly dying. One even has a sword sticking through his belly; he is one of the ones dying slowly, still twitching as the blade is sunk all the way through to his spine.
After a moment, sure his stomach has finished being reviled, he crawls over to the young woman. A quick look to the right sees a few bodies that he didn't see before, but he is forced to turn away as his stomach begins turning again. Reaching away with a bloodstained, quivering hand, he gives the girl a few slow shakes. She comes to after a moment, but when she does, it is with a resounding slap that makes his ears ring.
As he falls back, she quickly realizes her mistake and crawls over to him... but she never touches him. He slowly opens his eyes to see her peering at his face, then slowly retreating backwards. Sitting up, his hand going to his cheek with a wince, he frowns at her. "What is it?"
Her finger lifts to him, and he knows what she's pointing at before she says a thing, "Anathema." When he tries to go to her, he earns a scream of, "Don't come near me. Don't touch me!"
With a sigh, he holds up his hands and slowly backs away. He speaks to her calmly and carefully. "I'll go, but I want to make sure you're okay." He waits for a time, and she slowly nods but says nothing further. "Okay. The men that hurt you are.... are dead, so you don't have to worry. Just... you can ride the horse back to the village for help. It's closer than the next town." No reply comes from the girl as she stares at him, a bit of what could be hatred overwhelming the fear, which he sighs at. "I'm going now..."
He turns and immediately begins walking off, sighing once more as he looks at his bloodstained hands. "... I don't like this..."
---
It is nearly two months later before he is found by his familiar. He had made a bed out of leaves, covering himself in a waterproof tarp he had found, lying down to go to sleep beneath the stars. Sometime later, hours perhaps, he awakens to something resting on top of him.
Shifting beneath it, he realizes that whatever it is, it is heavy. Pulling back just the edge of the tarp, he peers over it to find himself face to face with a very large wolf. Despite everything else he had faced up until this point, he could not have held back his reaction to this no matter what. He screams in terror, causing the wolf thing to leap back, taking its head off the boy he had been resting on.
The wolf, only a foot shorter than the boy at its shoulders, stares wide-eyed at the him until he stops screaming and simply sits there, staring at it with his own wide eyes. They both stare at each other for a time until the wolf opens its mouth and simply says, "Hello."
All fear vanishes from Gawain as the creature speaks in such a friendly tone, not a hint of malice to it. He smiles shakily and says in return, "Hello." He pushes back the tarp and sits up, looking at the wolf creature as it slowly approaches again.
"My name is Ansar. I am glad I finally found you."
Gawain slowly starts to feel a stab of fear, the note from his parents coming back to him. The wolf creature, Ansar, must have seen this, for he quickly shakes his head. "I am not going to hurt you," he says softly, his voice taking on almost a warm tone. "I want... to be your friend again."
The 'again' barely registers in his mind. All he hears is that this creature, Ansar, wants to be his friend. With a wide grin, he tosses off the tarp and barrels into the wolf, much to Ansar's surprise, and wraps his arms around its neck. "You want to be my friend?" he asks rather loudly, a bit too close to Ansar's sensitive ear.
The wolf pulls back from the boy in surprise, but finds that he has quite a good grip on his neck. "Yes?" he says slowly, hesitantly, and is rewarded with an even stronger hug.
In time, Gawain releases the wolf and sits back, all the warm feelings he has running through him clear on his face. "My name is Gawain! I've been alone for so long!"
Ansar bows his head deeply, eyes turned upward to still rest on Gawain. "As have I, but together, we do not need to be alone any longer."
As the two talked into the night, the bond they share throughout every reincarnation slowly forms together. Even Gawain in his innocent can feel it, and when he asks about it, Ansar explains about the bond... though he leaves out details of the boy's reincarnation. In time, Gawain is overjoyed to make the pact official, not hesitating at all in swapping blood and completing it.
From that moment on, Gawain is no longer alone. Never again.
---
Gawain crosses his arms over his chest, standing on the edge one of the stone towers in this city, his red hair waving in the wind. In the last year he has grown quite a bit, both physically and mentally. He has been a hero in his mind more times than he can count yet the times that people actually thanked him for it are far outweighed by the times the same people he saved have ran him out of town.
Standing next to him, Ansar looks off into the distance, the rapport their share passing on his master's thoughts. He has never quite understood Gawain's desires to protect those that will never thank him for it, but if it is what his master wishes, he will do it as well and protect his master should those he saves actually be able to harm him.
"Ansar," the sixteen year old says softly, reaching out a hand to brush it through the white flames that feel so much like fur. "We have to find that serial killer tonight. We can't let him hurt anyone else."
The wolf lifts his head against the hand, pulling his lips back from his teeth in his form of a smile. "Yes, master. We will capture him tonight. His patterns are becoming predictable."
"Let's go!" Gawain shouts, leaping forward. His fall is cut short by the next rooftop, his shoes digging in for purchases as he dashes forward, his footfalls making barely any sound. He hears Ansar land behind him, the heavy creature making no more sound than him, and not falling through the rooftop as a creature of his size should have.
His hand moves to his back, gripping the circular piece of metal and pulling the full two and a half feet of metal free. As he brings it to bear, his thumb flicks the mechanism to 'open'. The four blades that had been set parallel to each other are then released to spin around the circle, locking into place at their assigned points. Holding the now fully opened 'comet' away from his body as he runs, he leaps off the edge of the building and smiles, I will protect everyone! I'll protect everyone can't defend themselves from monsters like this guy!
