John Spiegel Posted July 16, 2013 Share #1 Posted July 16, 2013 Feel free to make remarks of your undying love or petty remarks of hatred (because you're so jealous that your wife/husband/girlfriend/boyfriend loves me more than you). This is my first attempt at a full story after many years of not writing. I have done my best to not be too boring as well as exhibit a little bit of JJ's crazyness. This is five "chapters" long and being posted in its entirety. Feel free to comment below. I know I have a lot of rough edges to smooth out, I'm better as a call-and-response RPer than a write-something-you-didn't-RP-RPer. Also still working to get my RP chops back! Storywise, there's not much hard evidence of who JJ is in that he isn't out to prove who he is --- actually being a "fresh face" is beneficial in his line of work since he's made a lot of enemies over the years. He's out to chew bubblegum and find his family, and all his bubblegum got chewed before the Calamity. As you see in short in the start of chapter 1, which is my best attempt to show JJ's unorthodox fighting style since he's had to survive by his blade since a young age and is essentially self-taught in all aspects of combat. Some might argue I'm down-playing the HOLY CRAP TIMEWARP thing, but I'm not. JJ has kind of a one-track mind and all that's on there is making sure his remaining family (Alex & Grace) are okay. As JJ sees it, the timewarp already happened and five years is a long time to lose touch with family. He'll worry about the repercussions AFTER he finds them. Enough of my rambling, here you go! The moments leading up to those suspended in time were spent differently by everyone. Some fell to their knees in awe or shock of Bahamut's wrath. Some ran away in a feeble attempt at reaching safety. John, though most notably probably not the only one, had other plans. Everyone has their problems with the Empire. John's was how they slaughtered his loved ones in the brief resistance during the takeover of Ala Mhigo and its surrounding region. Though, if Theodorac remained in power, John would have easily focused on him. A haunting smile has crossed John’s face for the majority of the combat. Through the battle, John's darksteel armor has taken a lot of damage. He's ripped his breastplate and helmet off as he charges forth. John uses his scythe two impale two Garlean soldiers and then swings the scythe around as a living greathammer, knocking enemies down before his scythe-hammer gets shot from his grasp by a Magitek armor. Undeterred and with a guttural warcry, he pulls one of two greatswords on his back and launches it at the Magitek, rendering it useless and impaled horizontally. As Bahamut prepared to unleash some almighty attack, John charged towards the immeasurable god. With a leap assisted from a Magitek armor John impaled with a greatsword, he leaps towards certain death with a horrifying grin on his face. And then... then there was light.... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ SMASH! John's momentum of his leap landed him face first into a giant tree. A brief recovery - by which he plinkered down smashing into branches as he fell and hit the ground with a muffled “thud” - of wiping blood off his face and some groans, John freezes. Surprised, shocked and scared that he was -just- surrounded by death but now surrounded by greenery and life. Snorting and spitting blood, he holds his sword at the ready. Suddenly, he hears a scream! A feminine voice shrieks "I-it's a monster!" John moves with a carnal vigor towards the voice, only to find nothing but an Elezen woman running from -him-. Being naked from the waist up, covered in his (and others’) blood and people bits and running around with a giant sword generally tends to have one seen in bad light. Well, this scream-a-thon did not set well with the local creatures of the deep Shroud. Suddenly, the trees themselves began to move. About a dozen treants, awoken from the cries of an unfortunate onlooker, began forming a large circle around John and the poor Elezen woman. Through his labored breath, John spoke up at the Elezen woman “Stay down lady!” Through events in his past, as well as just giving off this dark vibe, no wonder John has accumulated Woodsin. The Elementals no doubt saw John as a threat. [insert battle with treants here] Within a few minutes, John dispatched the treants. “Halt!” A voice orders from the trees. Wood Wailers appear from the trees. “Come quietly otherwise we will send you to the Hells!” Still running on fear and power, John stands his ground full ready to take on another perceived threat. *huff, huff....THUD* John collapses as a result of his injuries and fatigue. “Is... is he.... it? dead?” A Wood Wailer pipes up. “If that blood’s his he might be. Get a healer up here but restrain him first!” Cautiously, five Wood Wailers approach the unconscious John. “By the... what is this man? His body looks like... what is that mark?” Three days later... A young male Wildwood Wood Wailer and an elderly Highlander female medic stand over a patched up and restrained John, who has not regained consciousness since the other day. “Where’d he come from? We had multiple trackers in that area trying to figure that out. There’s no Aether crystals out there, it’s like he just appeared out of thin air. The blood trail begins right near the tree he crashed into...” A Wood Wailer ponders. A medic speaks “...and what was he fighting to get this ragged looking... by the Elementals, this isn’t his first battle, either. Can’t tell you how old he is either. When someone is this scarred, one can only assume many years... were there any report of Ixal in that area at all?” “Nae... it’s really as if this man just plopped out of the sky... the poor woman that saw him claims he just fell out of a tree, got up, and looked like death... then the treants came. No doubt the Elementals’ doing. This fellow seems to use a large sword, not a particularly common practice.. he’s a Highlander... do you think he’s one of -them-? Didn’t escape that horrible onslaught and became a...?” The medic releases a slight gasp. “....a Garlean soldier...?” “G-G-Gar-*grunt*-leans? Where?!” As if jolted with lightning, John awoke and began struggling in his restraints. The Wood Wailer readied his lance. “Gods dammit! Get me out of here and I’ll fight them! Give you time to escape! I’ll tear them apart with my bare hands and teeth!” All John managed to do was cause the stretcher he was tied down onto to flip off the table and land on his face. A strained pain grunt, followed by him calming down his breathing followed. “Ow....” The Wood Wailer relaxes his stance. “...that answers that question.” The Wood Wailer motions to two other Wailers and together they lift John back on the table. “Now where are these Garleans?” With a groan “Laddie! Have you -not- looked to the sky at all! The smaller moon fell on Mor Dhona! This dragon came out! The Empire...” “Wait one second. Mor Dhona was FIVE years ago.... dragon?” the Wailer says. “Bullshit! I was right there! Then I hit a tree! Stop messing with me! I’ve got to get back out there!” The medic whispers to the Wood Wailer “He has the mark on his back...” “You’re in the Black Shroud and that night happened five years ago! We remember it because we don’t remember it... we can’t remember those that went to fight. Only that we knew some of them. They appear as silhouettes against a bright light. Their names we can’t even remember...” “If yer trying to make a joke, I’m -not- laughing! If ya ain’t lettin’ me go, just kill me now. My ghost got a giant dragon and Garleans to fight back.” SLAP! The Highlander medic slaps John across the face. “You’re not fighting anyone in your shape.” She then switches to Highlander old tongue “Kraftig Sjel, hvile trette ben. Kjempe igjen i morgen.” Placing a hand on John’s cheek and switching back to common tongue “You’re one who’s been lost to time. If we were indeed in combat, do you think Wood Wailers wouldn’t have killed you when you passed out?” John settles down. “... well... what a Hells of a day.. untie me?.” The Wood Wailer speaks “That decision's above my head....Do you have a name?” “John Spiegel.” “Peculiar name for a Highlander...” “Peculiar being on a battlefield one second, then kissin’ a tree the next, lad.” The Wood Wailer shrugs. “Fair enough.” "You tore your wounds back open! Kinsman, you're not going to like me if this happens again..." The Highlander cracks her knuckles. Three Means Free? That night... John lays in silent as he reflects on recent events. His restraints loosened so he can use the facilities. Wood Wailers remain on watch, cautiously. What in the Seven Hells is going on? I... don’t thinka whole squadron of Wailers can be jestin’ with me and seem so sincere about it. I was -just- in Mor Dhona now I’m here... He puts a hand over his heart as if gripping an old wound. I didn’t collapse when I ran into Hirilonde.. does that mean it’s broken? John’s glance switches to the window where only one moon hang in the sky. No one here can recollect what happened... by the Twelve... five years? I need to find Grace and Alex. I need to know they’re okay. If nothin’ else is right, all I want is for them to be okay. Slowly, John sits up with a groan. The Wood Wailers shift their relaxed stance to one of action. In a rather irritated tone, John barks “If yer gonna skewer me, least give me a sammich. Can’t kill a hungry man now can ya?” ...if I ain’t under arrest fer somethin’, then why are they so uppity... pretty sure I pissed off those Elementals one way or another... John stretches before laying back down. None of this is makin’ sense. It’s one of the strangest things I’ve heard, yes... was I dreamin’ that whole fight? Then how’d I get busted up? How’d I lose five years? It has been four days since John was transported to Girdania and had his Woodsin cleansed, making him "alright" in the non-eyes of the Elementals. He looked like a prisoner but surely didn't act as one. He wasn't under arrest, but he wasn't free to go. But more importantly he got to eat! The lady that John accidentally death charged at presented John with a feast. Three lamb legs, a pound of crayfish and some orange juice. At the time, John thought it was his last meal. Perhaps he was just really hungry. Either way, he enjoyed it. While in Girdania, John was examined at the Fane. He had some bruised ribs and cuts on his arms and legs and a nice knot on his face from when he a tree got to know each other. Those were his physical wounds gained. John remembers but a couple months ago (to him) that Girdania looked different... and it doesn't even look like Hells broke loose recently. Was he really transported five years into the future? Where and how were his children? Where did a dragon the size of a city go? His most aching question, though, was if he was free or not. During his transport to the heart of Girdania, he studied the roads and landmarks. This was a habit long built up from his life as an adventurer and done pretty much automatically without much thinking on his part. He can read the land, so to speak. It's a skill any trained tracker or scouter has. John was not in the company of trained trackers. At least ones that weren't focused on -him-. He noticed faded track marks of Iaxals of varying degrees of depth. Iaxals seemed to have been coming closing and closer to Girdania and repeatedly is what he deduced. Despite not being charged with any crimes, mostly out of caution, John remained restrained during transport. John earned himself a bed at the Fane out of no abilities of his own. Guards relaxed their watch since he was now in the middle of the city, but remained vigilant. No one but one examiner and one assistant were allowed near him accompanied by no less than three Wood Wailers. Growing irritated with this, but thankful to them for taking care of him, John quietly went along. He has no reason to retaliate but their behavior was odd. Then again, John's past two weeks have been odd. Six weeks have passed since John emerged from the past. Upon giving his name, John Spiegel, he was met with discrepancy due to neither having identification nor anyone that remembers him -- even if someone did, that was years ago the last he was in the Stillgate Fane. His vivid memory, along with the strange tattoo on his back, brought his would-be naysayers to at least accept that he is who he says he is. It was not like John was claiming he’s a nobleman, just JJ. “A Warrior of Light, ya say? But I wear dark armor... I ain’t light, I’m dark! I ain’t got a torch on my head! Wait! Is that a bald joke?” John seems to be in high spirits as he puts his remaining darksteel armor on. The attending nurse just puts his hand in his hands “You got it wrong. you folks are called Warriors of Light because people don’t remember yo-” “I never metcha till a month ago... how can ya have forgotten who ya never met till a month ago, lad? Or are you a Warrior of Light too? Perhaps we BOTH are!” “I- you.... ugh!” The nurse gives up, having lost an argument with an apparent idiot. “Ah-haha!” John gives the nurse a big slap on the back, which results in a stagger from the nurse. “Take care of yerself, y’all do nice work!” “Omph! Just... take it easy with your ribs, they’re still-” “Bruised a bit, I know. They hurt like Hells.” John holds his hand up “I promise I won’t go have fun-I-mean-get-in-trouble till they’re healed up.” ~~~ In Bentbranch... Young Wood Wailers are following John, interested in his greatsword, pestering him. “Ah, leave me be! Thanks fer takin’ care of me and not killin’ me and all but... git!” John shoos them away with a chuckle. He apporaches a giant tree and puts a hand on it “Five years... huh? Ain’t mean anything ta ya, friend?” From a rock behind the bushes, a duskwight woman speaks up “Um.. hello?” THE END f g Link to comment
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