Post by ZaCloud on Sept 22, 2005 22:16:42 GMT -5
(OOC: Um, I just had to do sumfin with my characters so they wouldn’t atrophy. While this is part of the RPG continuity, I can’t just randomly stick it in there, so I’ll just write some random past event thingie and post it here. I can only go so long without RPing, I need my fix. 
Oh, and the crappy pic was done on a whim in MS Paint; I don’t have Photoshop reinstalled yet.)
*02-18-08 - Post modified to better explain the various situations; the vagueness from before was making me cringe. It should all make a lot more sense now. ^_^;;
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“Ow! Ow ow owie ow!”
Zack stopped and looked over his shoulder, frowning. “Aww, what happened, squirt?”
Claude was sitting down on the cracked, dusty earth, looking at the bottom of his right bare foot. “I’m not a squirt,” he mumbled, lower lip jutting out, “And I stepped on something… Ow.” The ten-year-old’s voice quavered, but he refused to cry.
“Lemme take a look.” Zack knelt down and lifted Claude’s foot to examine it. Lifted it higher and higher until Claude made an annoyed laugh and was forced to lie on his back. Zack’s face took on a look of concentration as he examined the wound, which still had a piece of something jutting out in the arch of the foot, a bit below the heel. This was a common occurrence for both of them, as they hadn’t been able to find shoes in a long time, and he knew it wasn’t good for such dirty skin surfaces to be punctured in a place with no medication.
This was no ordinary splinter or tiny sharp rock, however; it was a very long, barbed thorn. Zack glanced around and sure enough, what they called a Legoff Bush was nestled in between some less dangerous bushes nearby. This was the worst kind of thorn to have the misfortune of stepping on.
“Well shoot, Claude,” he said, scratching the back of his head with his free hand, “You’re a tough little nipper considering what you just stepped on. You know what this means, right?”
Claude frowned and groaned a bit, closing his eyes and resting the back of his head on the ground under him. People had lost limbs due to similar accidents; the backward-facing barbs of the thorn not only tore more flesh on the way out, but often also broke off inside the wound, where they would stay and cause a horrible infection. The only way to survive when it got too bad, was to have the limb amputated. And there were no very effective anesthetics out here.
Zack patted the top of Claude’s foot. “Well, let’s go back to that one lake we saw the other day. If that stream’s still goin’, we should be able to flush it out well enough. I’ll leave it in so it can bleed out when we’re ready to deal with it.” He picked Claude up with little effort, having carried him many times before during tough times, and the younger boy climbed around so he was on Zack’s back. With Claude’s face now close to Zack’s ear, the elder brother could hear the uneven breath of one who was in pain.
But Claude, as usual, was optimistic anyway. In fact, since this wound had not been received by malicious people, that made it hurt way less than what he usually endured... Even though one wrong wiggle could break open one of the mini-barbs and send the poison into his bloodstream. “This is a nice view,” he said, looking over Zack’s shoulder with his chin resting on it, “I’ll be this tall too someday, right?” He was doing his best not to worry about his foot.
Zack smiled and looked back at him as he walked. “Yeah, you will. You might not get as tall as my max height when we’re grownups, but you’re growin’ alright. You’re a twig though; I could prolly carry you with one hand.” Despite him saying this jokingly, they both knew that they were both rather thin due to having trouble finding food. Soon, they would have no choice but to go to other groups of drifters for some, and this would come with a high price…
“Well it’s a good thing I stepped on the thing and not you,” Claude commented, “You’re way too big for me to carry.”
“You’re right,” said Zack, “I’d better watch my step, or else we’ll hafta each hop on one foot like a couple lunatics. That’d be a sight.” They both laughed at the thought.
Their journey continued; since they had already trekked this terrain and knew what to expect, they figured they could arrive back at the water source the next morning, factoring in sleep. A bit of a wait for treating the wound properly, but the only real choice under the circumstances. What little water they carried with them had to go toward drinking, and too little with not enough pressure would do no good for the wound. For a long time, Zack walked with Claude on his back, the two bantering back and forth lightheartedly, both of them inherently optimistic as they’ve had to become, to endure.
Toward the evening hours, Claude slowly began to drift to sleep. His hands started slipping from around Zack’s neck. The elder brother stopped and quickly leaned forward to keep the youngster from falling backwards as Claude startled with a squeak and tightened his grip again. “Hey hey,” Zack scolded lightly, “Ya gotta stay awake a while longer. You coulda hurt the ground with that spiky hair o’ yours.”
“Sorry…” Claude said drowsily, settling again.
Zack began walking again, then abruptly stopped once more, staring ahead. He could see a group of people in the distance. And seeing their pace suddenly increase with a trajectory straight for them, the strangers obviously saw them too. A group of lost wanderers hoping for directions? Not too likely. More likely other drifters, seeing a target of opportunity. And when they got close enough to recognize them…
Zack was frozen in indecision. Running would not likely get them away in time, considering the circumstances, and forcing their pursuers on a chase would make them more angry and dangerous. Then again, just standing and waiting for them didn’t seem a smart thing to do. There was nowhere to hide; they were in an open valley with few rocks, and no trees or caves to hide in.
“Damn it,” he sighed. “Claude, I’ll put you down. Stand like you’re not wounded, but try not to put too much weight down or you'll lose your foot. We’ll toss them our packs and show we don’t got anything on us an’ they should let us be.” He carefully helped Claude stand before letting go and facing the group. Five of them, teenagers. The boys tensed; other kids wouldn’t be too much of a problem in a fight, and adults generally didn’t rough them up much, but teenagers…
As the group neared, their faces picked up smirks. Two were girls, three were boys. The oldest boy stepped forward, his head raggedly close-shaved (most likely done with a knife). “Well, if it isn’t the Strife boys.”
Zack quickly interrupted by holding his knapsack out, and Claude quickly did the same. “We’ve got nothin’ on us,” the elder said calmly, “You can check, just a little clothes an’ water, not worth botherin’ with.” Claude did his best to keep his face straight, neither stern nor scared, though he felt a bit of both, as well as doing his best to appear to stand straight on his foot. Too much pressure would push the thorn in further, or even break pieces of it off, releasing its dangerous sap. To show weakness in front of potentially ruthless people, meant drawing more abuse; he knew this already. Never had it drawn any pity from people they’ve met.
The lead teen snatched the knapsacks and passed them to the others. “Well,” he sneered, “We just happened to be in need o’ bags to carry all the stuff we have, so thanks.”
Claude’s lips tightened slightly in dismay. Zack shrugged slightly. “No problem, we’re generous.” There was no room for pride in these kinds of situations. Usually a small degree of compliance, carefully played with a lack of acting like a real victim, averted trouble.
However, this group seemed rather unruly, and Zack silently cursed as the leader folded his arms and stepped closer to them, looking down on them with an air of superiority. “That’s still not very much though; we jogged out of our way to get somethin’, this ain’t good enough.”
Zack didn’t know how to react without provoking these guys. He and Claude both had knives if they needed self-defense, but wielding them would probably provoke the teens into possibly drawing superior weaponry, and that was the last thing they needed to be up against. Zack tried to be sincerely withdrawn without completely giving in. “Well, sorry about that. We didn’t wave you over or anythin’. We can offer you advice though; there’s Legoff Bushes down back that way.” He pointed over his shoulder. “So watch your step. Thorns all over, might wanna detour.”
The close-cut leader looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded. “Well, that’s somethin’ new. I’ve heard o’ Legoff Bushes. But, I never seen their effects first hand. Wonder what would happen if more than just a foot snagged in ‘em. That’s it, we’ll have a little experiment.” He snatched Claude by the arm and quickly jerked him forward, two of his cohorts catching and holding onto him. The child cried out in shock, and pain as his foot struck the ground in his upset balance.
“Spiky hair,” one of the girls commented, “We’ll make you all spiky!”
Zack gasped and lunged forward on instinct, trying to pull Claude free, but he too was grabbed by the others. Struggling, he screamed, “No! You know damn well, we didn’t do anything, there’s no reason to do that!”
One of the girls holding him muttered, “Seriously, Buff… there isn’t, let’s just go.”
The one she called Buff turned and slapped her across the face. “Not in front o’ the kids, you little bitch!” The red-haired girl reeled back a bit, holding her cheek. “Or do you wanna swim in the bush with him?”
“…No,” she said, lowering her head.
“Good girl, Liz,” Buff sneered. “Now c’mon guys.”
Zack began to struggle viciously, slamming his head back into one of his captor’s faces, twirling and pulling the other into his fist. Turning and lashing out quickly like a surrounded panther, he caused the crowd to initially draw back, then with the exception of Liz they all dove at him, Claude being thrown aside in favor of stopping this unexpectedly rabid kid.
Rolling to gain distance, Claude rose to a kneel and looked on with wide, frightened eyes. He knew Zack was strong, and Zack insisted Claude was pretty strong too, but the danger lying in his foot and the pain that would come with movement made him useless right now. But Zack would certainly be overwhelmed any moment by sheer numbers and strength. Indeed, now more of their fists and feet were landing on him than his were on them.
No… No… Why? This isn’t fair… They’re gonna kill him… They’re gonna kill my brother! I have to do something… I HAVE TO DO SOMETHING!!!
Claude drew his knife and held it in the air. “STOP!!!” he screamed, still kneeling, tears streaming from his eyes and flying outward in droplets. “STOP NOW!!!”
“Claude, no!” Zack protested from within the throng, blood running from the corner of his lip and one eye swelling shut. He was afraid Claude would now provoke the use of deadlier force from their foes, at the sight of the weapon. And Claude was in no condition to fight them.
But Claude plunged the knife right into the top of his foot.
As the boy shrieked and squalled with agony, the crowd was frozen with wide eyes and gaping jaws. Slowly, the blade dug deeper and wider into the flesh, between the bones of the foot, tears and spit and sweat pouring down Claude’s face, and blood gushing from the growing wound. His throat emitted scream after scream of determination, rage, and horrible pain. There was a mild scraping sensation through the knife, and he pulled it out and reached into the wound with his fingers, bringing a new pitch to his outcry. Moments later, he slowly pulled up, and his shaking fingers held up a two-inch blood-covered potentially-poisonous thorn, a nasty weapon of nature. It quickly fell from the quivering hand of the child, who lifted his head to glare daggers at his brother’s assailants, the pain not having drained his determination in the least.
Had he only pulled it out from the entry wound, the backward-facing barbs would have surely severed, remaining anchored in his flesh, and spewing forth their infectious poison. But by pulling the entire thorn forward through the top of his foot, the barbs remained intact.
Now, with the deadly thorn out of his foot, there was nothing holding him back from tearing into his brother's assailants with all the strength he could muster from his rage.
But the boy's grisly first-aid had completely drained the group of conviction. They slowly backed away, leaving Zack sitting on the ground frozen in shock. “You’re… You’re crazy,” Buff said tonelessly, shaking his head slowly as the distance grew. Liz meanwhile dropped to her own knees, staring at the ground. All the others kept backing away, until one tripped on a rock and stumbled. They all spooked at that moment and ran away, leaving the three figures behind.
Liz was stunned at the display of devotion the young boy had shown. She couldn’t help but feel deep admiration… for the moment. But then she realized that in sticking up for these boys, she had become an outcast from her group. She would have to redeem herself in the future to regain trust from other drifters… She felt angry at these two for being the cause of what would be a lot of trouble for her.
She slowly stood up and began to walk off another way.
“Thank you, Liz,” Zack muttered, his head down in a pause of fatigue. “We’ll remember you for this.”
“I’d sooner you forgot,” she likewise murmured, and she took off running.
When all else was still, Zack swayed slowly up to his feet, quite beaten and bruised, scuffed and sand-burned. He staggered over to Claude, who had his head lowered as he struggled to breathe through sobs, the bloody pocket-knife and thorn lying in the growing pool of blood. Without a word, the elder brother knelt and wrapped his arms around Claude, pulling him against his chest. Words could not express the gratitude, admiration, and sorrow Zack felt.
But, to Claude, this was enough.
Oh, and the crappy pic was done on a whim in MS Paint; I don’t have Photoshop reinstalled yet.)*02-18-08 - Post modified to better explain the various situations; the vagueness from before was making me cringe. It should all make a lot more sense now. ^_^;;
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“Ow! Ow ow owie ow!”
Zack stopped and looked over his shoulder, frowning. “Aww, what happened, squirt?”
Claude was sitting down on the cracked, dusty earth, looking at the bottom of his right bare foot. “I’m not a squirt,” he mumbled, lower lip jutting out, “And I stepped on something… Ow.” The ten-year-old’s voice quavered, but he refused to cry.
“Lemme take a look.” Zack knelt down and lifted Claude’s foot to examine it. Lifted it higher and higher until Claude made an annoyed laugh and was forced to lie on his back. Zack’s face took on a look of concentration as he examined the wound, which still had a piece of something jutting out in the arch of the foot, a bit below the heel. This was a common occurrence for both of them, as they hadn’t been able to find shoes in a long time, and he knew it wasn’t good for such dirty skin surfaces to be punctured in a place with no medication.
This was no ordinary splinter or tiny sharp rock, however; it was a very long, barbed thorn. Zack glanced around and sure enough, what they called a Legoff Bush was nestled in between some less dangerous bushes nearby. This was the worst kind of thorn to have the misfortune of stepping on.
“Well shoot, Claude,” he said, scratching the back of his head with his free hand, “You’re a tough little nipper considering what you just stepped on. You know what this means, right?”
Claude frowned and groaned a bit, closing his eyes and resting the back of his head on the ground under him. People had lost limbs due to similar accidents; the backward-facing barbs of the thorn not only tore more flesh on the way out, but often also broke off inside the wound, where they would stay and cause a horrible infection. The only way to survive when it got too bad, was to have the limb amputated. And there were no very effective anesthetics out here.
Zack patted the top of Claude’s foot. “Well, let’s go back to that one lake we saw the other day. If that stream’s still goin’, we should be able to flush it out well enough. I’ll leave it in so it can bleed out when we’re ready to deal with it.” He picked Claude up with little effort, having carried him many times before during tough times, and the younger boy climbed around so he was on Zack’s back. With Claude’s face now close to Zack’s ear, the elder brother could hear the uneven breath of one who was in pain.
But Claude, as usual, was optimistic anyway. In fact, since this wound had not been received by malicious people, that made it hurt way less than what he usually endured... Even though one wrong wiggle could break open one of the mini-barbs and send the poison into his bloodstream. “This is a nice view,” he said, looking over Zack’s shoulder with his chin resting on it, “I’ll be this tall too someday, right?” He was doing his best not to worry about his foot.
Zack smiled and looked back at him as he walked. “Yeah, you will. You might not get as tall as my max height when we’re grownups, but you’re growin’ alright. You’re a twig though; I could prolly carry you with one hand.” Despite him saying this jokingly, they both knew that they were both rather thin due to having trouble finding food. Soon, they would have no choice but to go to other groups of drifters for some, and this would come with a high price…
“Well it’s a good thing I stepped on the thing and not you,” Claude commented, “You’re way too big for me to carry.”
“You’re right,” said Zack, “I’d better watch my step, or else we’ll hafta each hop on one foot like a couple lunatics. That’d be a sight.” They both laughed at the thought.
Their journey continued; since they had already trekked this terrain and knew what to expect, they figured they could arrive back at the water source the next morning, factoring in sleep. A bit of a wait for treating the wound properly, but the only real choice under the circumstances. What little water they carried with them had to go toward drinking, and too little with not enough pressure would do no good for the wound. For a long time, Zack walked with Claude on his back, the two bantering back and forth lightheartedly, both of them inherently optimistic as they’ve had to become, to endure.
Toward the evening hours, Claude slowly began to drift to sleep. His hands started slipping from around Zack’s neck. The elder brother stopped and quickly leaned forward to keep the youngster from falling backwards as Claude startled with a squeak and tightened his grip again. “Hey hey,” Zack scolded lightly, “Ya gotta stay awake a while longer. You coulda hurt the ground with that spiky hair o’ yours.”
“Sorry…” Claude said drowsily, settling again.
Zack began walking again, then abruptly stopped once more, staring ahead. He could see a group of people in the distance. And seeing their pace suddenly increase with a trajectory straight for them, the strangers obviously saw them too. A group of lost wanderers hoping for directions? Not too likely. More likely other drifters, seeing a target of opportunity. And when they got close enough to recognize them…
Zack was frozen in indecision. Running would not likely get them away in time, considering the circumstances, and forcing their pursuers on a chase would make them more angry and dangerous. Then again, just standing and waiting for them didn’t seem a smart thing to do. There was nowhere to hide; they were in an open valley with few rocks, and no trees or caves to hide in.
“Damn it,” he sighed. “Claude, I’ll put you down. Stand like you’re not wounded, but try not to put too much weight down or you'll lose your foot. We’ll toss them our packs and show we don’t got anything on us an’ they should let us be.” He carefully helped Claude stand before letting go and facing the group. Five of them, teenagers. The boys tensed; other kids wouldn’t be too much of a problem in a fight, and adults generally didn’t rough them up much, but teenagers…
As the group neared, their faces picked up smirks. Two were girls, three were boys. The oldest boy stepped forward, his head raggedly close-shaved (most likely done with a knife). “Well, if it isn’t the Strife boys.”
Zack quickly interrupted by holding his knapsack out, and Claude quickly did the same. “We’ve got nothin’ on us,” the elder said calmly, “You can check, just a little clothes an’ water, not worth botherin’ with.” Claude did his best to keep his face straight, neither stern nor scared, though he felt a bit of both, as well as doing his best to appear to stand straight on his foot. Too much pressure would push the thorn in further, or even break pieces of it off, releasing its dangerous sap. To show weakness in front of potentially ruthless people, meant drawing more abuse; he knew this already. Never had it drawn any pity from people they’ve met.
The lead teen snatched the knapsacks and passed them to the others. “Well,” he sneered, “We just happened to be in need o’ bags to carry all the stuff we have, so thanks.”
Claude’s lips tightened slightly in dismay. Zack shrugged slightly. “No problem, we’re generous.” There was no room for pride in these kinds of situations. Usually a small degree of compliance, carefully played with a lack of acting like a real victim, averted trouble.
However, this group seemed rather unruly, and Zack silently cursed as the leader folded his arms and stepped closer to them, looking down on them with an air of superiority. “That’s still not very much though; we jogged out of our way to get somethin’, this ain’t good enough.”
Zack didn’t know how to react without provoking these guys. He and Claude both had knives if they needed self-defense, but wielding them would probably provoke the teens into possibly drawing superior weaponry, and that was the last thing they needed to be up against. Zack tried to be sincerely withdrawn without completely giving in. “Well, sorry about that. We didn’t wave you over or anythin’. We can offer you advice though; there’s Legoff Bushes down back that way.” He pointed over his shoulder. “So watch your step. Thorns all over, might wanna detour.”
The close-cut leader looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded. “Well, that’s somethin’ new. I’ve heard o’ Legoff Bushes. But, I never seen their effects first hand. Wonder what would happen if more than just a foot snagged in ‘em. That’s it, we’ll have a little experiment.” He snatched Claude by the arm and quickly jerked him forward, two of his cohorts catching and holding onto him. The child cried out in shock, and pain as his foot struck the ground in his upset balance.
“Spiky hair,” one of the girls commented, “We’ll make you all spiky!”
Zack gasped and lunged forward on instinct, trying to pull Claude free, but he too was grabbed by the others. Struggling, he screamed, “No! You know damn well, we didn’t do anything, there’s no reason to do that!”
One of the girls holding him muttered, “Seriously, Buff… there isn’t, let’s just go.”
The one she called Buff turned and slapped her across the face. “Not in front o’ the kids, you little bitch!” The red-haired girl reeled back a bit, holding her cheek. “Or do you wanna swim in the bush with him?”
“…No,” she said, lowering her head.
“Good girl, Liz,” Buff sneered. “Now c’mon guys.”
Zack began to struggle viciously, slamming his head back into one of his captor’s faces, twirling and pulling the other into his fist. Turning and lashing out quickly like a surrounded panther, he caused the crowd to initially draw back, then with the exception of Liz they all dove at him, Claude being thrown aside in favor of stopping this unexpectedly rabid kid.
Rolling to gain distance, Claude rose to a kneel and looked on with wide, frightened eyes. He knew Zack was strong, and Zack insisted Claude was pretty strong too, but the danger lying in his foot and the pain that would come with movement made him useless right now. But Zack would certainly be overwhelmed any moment by sheer numbers and strength. Indeed, now more of their fists and feet were landing on him than his were on them.
No… No… Why? This isn’t fair… They’re gonna kill him… They’re gonna kill my brother! I have to do something… I HAVE TO DO SOMETHING!!!
Claude drew his knife and held it in the air. “STOP!!!” he screamed, still kneeling, tears streaming from his eyes and flying outward in droplets. “STOP NOW!!!”
“Claude, no!” Zack protested from within the throng, blood running from the corner of his lip and one eye swelling shut. He was afraid Claude would now provoke the use of deadlier force from their foes, at the sight of the weapon. And Claude was in no condition to fight them.
But Claude plunged the knife right into the top of his foot.
As the boy shrieked and squalled with agony, the crowd was frozen with wide eyes and gaping jaws. Slowly, the blade dug deeper and wider into the flesh, between the bones of the foot, tears and spit and sweat pouring down Claude’s face, and blood gushing from the growing wound. His throat emitted scream after scream of determination, rage, and horrible pain. There was a mild scraping sensation through the knife, and he pulled it out and reached into the wound with his fingers, bringing a new pitch to his outcry. Moments later, he slowly pulled up, and his shaking fingers held up a two-inch blood-covered potentially-poisonous thorn, a nasty weapon of nature. It quickly fell from the quivering hand of the child, who lifted his head to glare daggers at his brother’s assailants, the pain not having drained his determination in the least.
Had he only pulled it out from the entry wound, the backward-facing barbs would have surely severed, remaining anchored in his flesh, and spewing forth their infectious poison. But by pulling the entire thorn forward through the top of his foot, the barbs remained intact.
Now, with the deadly thorn out of his foot, there was nothing holding him back from tearing into his brother's assailants with all the strength he could muster from his rage.
But the boy's grisly first-aid had completely drained the group of conviction. They slowly backed away, leaving Zack sitting on the ground frozen in shock. “You’re… You’re crazy,” Buff said tonelessly, shaking his head slowly as the distance grew. Liz meanwhile dropped to her own knees, staring at the ground. All the others kept backing away, until one tripped on a rock and stumbled. They all spooked at that moment and ran away, leaving the three figures behind.
Liz was stunned at the display of devotion the young boy had shown. She couldn’t help but feel deep admiration… for the moment. But then she realized that in sticking up for these boys, she had become an outcast from her group. She would have to redeem herself in the future to regain trust from other drifters… She felt angry at these two for being the cause of what would be a lot of trouble for her.
She slowly stood up and began to walk off another way.
“Thank you, Liz,” Zack muttered, his head down in a pause of fatigue. “We’ll remember you for this.”
“I’d sooner you forgot,” she likewise murmured, and she took off running.
When all else was still, Zack swayed slowly up to his feet, quite beaten and bruised, scuffed and sand-burned. He staggered over to Claude, who had his head lowered as he struggled to breathe through sobs, the bloody pocket-knife and thorn lying in the growing pool of blood. Without a word, the elder brother knelt and wrapped his arms around Claude, pulling him against his chest. Words could not express the gratitude, admiration, and sorrow Zack felt.
But, to Claude, this was enough.
