The Wanderer - Part Four

PART ONE (click here)
PART TWO (click here)
PART THREE (click here)


PART FOUR
The sharp sound of steel colliding with steel shocked her back to the moment. She opened her tear soaked eyes to see the Bandit’s hideous blade held at bay by an old rusted sword. With a fully extended lunge the Wanderer remained frozen, the rusted sword digging into the wall of the shrine, holding back the Bandit’s attack.

“Sorry about the delay, Priestess,” apologized the Wanderer. “There was a hole in the bucket.”

Stepping back, the Bandit took an offensive stance. The Wanderer, never losing composure, extended his hand to the Priestess, who gladly accepted the help to her feet. The Wanderer then slid his sword into the ill-fitting sheath on his back, his hand never leaving the hilt.

“This doesn’t concern you, Wanderer,” hissed the Bandit. “Leave this place, now!”

“I would,” stated the Wanderer. “But she had planned on making dinner for two, and wasting food makes her most upset.”

With a battle cry only one who had truly been touched by darkness could make, the Bandit took two swipes at the Wanderer, each one deflected.

“After taking my crystals back I will burn this place to the ground,” threatened the Bandit. “Only now, your body will join the ashes of this shrine.”

A fevered barrage of attacks came down on the Wanderer; the Bandit drooled with delight as he backed the Wanderer through the door and toward the altar. The Wanderer felt something on his back; it was the broom handle and the Priestess standing guard over the crystals.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t allow anyone to damage these crystals”, She stated.

The crystals dimmed, cringing from his presence, the Wanderer saw this and nodded.

“How about we take this outside?” smiled the Wanderer as he went on the offensive.

The Wanderer advanced on the Bandit, driving him backward through the great door, through the shrine and back into the courtyard. There they stood, warrior to warrior.

“You know, I didn’t want to damage the crystals either.” The Bandit stated. “I stole them first, they’re mine.”

“You could never truly treasure them.” The Priestess shouted from the top of the steps. “They need to be loved and tended to, not used as a means of manipulation. You have no respect, no honor, what makes you think you could truly care for them?”

“Have you not learned your place, witch?” asked the Bandit, cocking his blade back to charge at her. “Perhaps I should remind you.”

Light glinted off the few places where rust did not cover the Wanderer’s blade.

“You won’t make it past the first step,” advised the Wanderer.

“And you.” The Bandit stated, turning his focus back to the Wanderer. “You must really want to die, what makes you think you have any say in what happens here?”

“Tough talk for a man who bullies a Priestess.” The Wanderer retorts, charging the Bandit.

The blades collide once again; this time the Wanderer could see that the Bandit really was holding back near the crystals. The strikes are at a much faster pace, some slice through his kimono, drawing thin lines of blood. The Wanderer’s blade also strikes true, but the black armor continues to deflect the attacks. Evenly matched, the Wanderer can see that eventually he will wear down first. A momentary lapse in the assaults gives the Wanderer a moment to catch his breath, in doing so he looked to the Priestess. In her eyes he sees everything in the world worth fighting for, his passion for her gives him strength to continue.

Again the blades collide, when the warriors lock blades a series of blows are exchanged, again, nothing penetrates the cruel armor of the Bandit. With his kimono nearly shredded the Wanderer pants, weary from combat. The Bandit’s armor also shows a great deal of wear, but he is in far better condition than the Wanderer. Again they attack one another, until the dark blade’s hilt smashes down onto the Wanderer, knocking him to the foot of the shrine steps. The Bandit quickly pursued the fallen Wanderer attempting to end the battle with a final blow. Much to his dismay, the Priestess took this opportunity to swing the broom handle with all her might. The sheer force of the swing snapped the thick wooden handle in half, splintering it into a sharp spear. Reeling from the Priestess’s fury, the Bandit staggered back to the courtyard clutching his head.

“There are buckles on the back of his armor,” she revealed. “I saw them while you were fighting, slice them off and the armor should fall.”

With a caress from on the cheek from her soft hand, the Wanderer regained his strength to continue the fight.

“Oh you little bitch,” yelled the Bandit. “I’m going to make you beg me to kill you when I’m done. You hear me!”
“Hey yak shit,” the Wanderer called, rising to his feet. “We’re not done yet. Let’s finish our little chat.”


PART FIVE


Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com

And Now For Something Completely Different...

A momentary break from the the world of The Wanderer...

This weekend, I went against my usual budgeting strategies and decided to go snowboarding with Peaches. If you're going to run out of money, you might as well enjoy it, right?

This trip was Peaches' second time on the board


Needless to say it was a bit bumpy... "Oooof!"


But soon she was up...


And she stayed up!



I have to say that this little trip was totally worth it. It was great to see her take to snowboarding so well, and it was the perfect day for it. With all the concerns I've had lately with work and money it's not often I get a chance like this to enjoy myself.

And now, back to the story...


Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com

The Wanderer - Part Three

Part One (click here)
Part Two (click here)


PART THREE
The Priestess watched the Wanderer reach the edge of the clearing and disappear into the woods, and then turned to her chores with a twirl of contentment. With no one around to see her she allowed her smile to shine through. Washing her humble dishes took on a new life, knowing that she would have someone to share her meal with tonight. Then, with a devious smile she skipped over to the bed, which was in much need of straightening.

“You don’t need to tidy up just for me.” Growled a voice that sent horrifying chills up her spine.

She spun around and saw a man she had hoped she would never lay eyes on again. The Bandit stood tall and ominous, clad in black armor. Armor so dark it looked as if it had been cast from pure evil, forged in terror.

“What are you doing here? You were banished from this place!” Shouted the Priestess, assuming a defensive stance.

“I’m here for my sacred crystals,” sneered the Bandit. “And you won’t stand in my way.”

“They’re not yours,” she said with conviction, taking her broom in hand. “And you will not lay a hand on them.”

“Oh they’re not?” questioned the Bandit. “I’m the one that stole them, that is, until you stole them from me.”

The Priestess snapped the head of the broom from the handle and steeled herself in front of the enormous door. Menacingly, the Bandit walked toward Priestess and watched as her eyes slid off his pitch-black armor.

“I’ve devoted my life to protecting them,” she warned. “Especially from you.”

The Priestess waited.

She waited for him to step within striking distance.

Step by step she drew him in.

“Out of my way, witch.” The Bandit snarled.

With that the Priestess struck the side of the Bandit’s head. With pain ringing through her hands she saw the anger in the Bandit’s furrowed eyes. Drawing back his leather clad hand he struck her, throwing her to the ground and away from the door. He didn’t watch where she landed, but he didn’t care, he was fixated on the door.

“Cute lock,” He chuckled, drawing the dark blade from its sheath.


She screamed for him to stop as the blade stabbed into the lock, shattering the steel. The Bandit laughed as he tugged his sword free from where it was embedded in the door.

“You soulless bastard,” she screamed, lunging at him with the broom handle. She jabbed the handle hard into his side, but the armor absorbed the majority of the impact.

“Whore.” The Bandit stated, striking her with the hilt of his sword.

The blow knocked her to her knees, and in that moment she was defenseless. She attempted to grab hold of her senses while she looked up into the heartless eyes of the Bandit; he drew his sword over his head. A look of joy shot across his face as he targeted her head for his strike. With all his might he swung the weapon, time slowed to a stop for the Priestess as she closed her eyes to the impending strike. Her mind drifted to the Emerald Of Wisdom and the Jewel Of Innocence, she thought of how she would not see them reach their true potential. Her heart ached with the thought of failing her charge.

PART FOUR


Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com

The Wanderer - Part Two

(PART ONE, click here)

PART TWO
He awoke to the sound of straw rustling on the other side of the room. The shrine was now filled with the cool dawn light. Illuminated, the Priestess continued her cleaning rituals, but this morning contentment occupied her thoughts. Her smile seemed impossible to contain as the morning air swirled around her. The Wanderer groggily sat up in the bed and placed his feet on the cold stone ground. The Priestess smiled and walked out of the room as the Wanderer lifted his frayed kimono from where it rested in a folded stack with the rest of his clothes and belongings.

Fully dressed, the Wanderer stepped out of the shrine’s opening, sheath in hand, and looked for his kindly hostess. Buckling down the sheath as he walked out into the temple courtyard, he found the Priestess working in a small vegetable garden.

“Beautiful garden,” complimented the Wanderer.

“Of all the things you could find beautiful, you pick my garden?” she asked in a playfully affronted tone.

“Praising the beauty of one’s garden is far less offensive than complimenting one directly.”

“Compliments,” she said, lifting the basket of vegetables, “Can only offend in their absence.”

“Of course.” He replied, disguising his limp by lifting the basket of vegetables at the edge of the garden. “I never thought I could sleep that well, is there any way I can repay your kindness?”

“One does not commit acts of kindness to be repaid.” She edified, only to take a far more coy tone. “But, one doesn’t turn down an offer to do chores either.”

With parcels in hand the two lone occupants of the temple returned to the shrine. The Priestess set down her basket, then quickly took his. A momentary brush of hands sent a hot flash across the Priestess’ cheeks. With a quick turn, the blushing Priestess retrieved a bucket from beneath the table. A very intentional brushing of hands took place as he took the bucket and walked out of the room.

Out of sight of the priestess, the Wanderer’s limp returned as he made his way to the shrine entrance. On his way he stopped to admire a great door consuming nearly an entire wall of the shrine. He had slept an entire night by the enormous door, but never noticed it until that moment. Curiosity gave way to any forethought as he grasped the handle to the door and began to pull, but the door would not budge. The Wanderer looked at the solid steel lock and marveled at its craftsmanship.

“You’re definitely intended to keep someone out,” the Wanderer said to the lock.

“That’s what locks are for.”, replied the Priestess on behalf of the lock.

Startled, the Wanderer fumbled with the bucket in his hands, barely keeping it from dropping to the floor.

“So what’s beyond this door?” he asked, stepping back from the door, his eyes never straying.

“The future,” She said, placing her hand softly on the door. “But I can’t just open this door for anyone.”

“I understand,” he replied, returning his focus from the door to the Priestess, who proceeded to remove the lock.

“These sacred crystals must remain untouched by darkness until they are ready,” she sighed. “And while it may take an entire lifetime for them to mature, their protection is my sole responsibility. I will show them to you, but you must not come any closer than you are.”

“Of course,” he replied, bowing his head to her.

Slowly creaking open, an azure glow slowly slipped through the door’s opening. The glow continued to grow as the door opened; there the source of the aura was revealed. Resting on a modest altar, two crystals, one green, one blue, continued to radiate a glow so amazing, it was the only thing the Wanderer could imagine to be as beautiful as the Priestess herself. The Wanderer looked away from the glowing crystals to realize that the combined light nearly matched the color of her eyes. Unwittingly, the Wanderer stepped past the threshold causing the blue crystal to dim slightly. The Priestess’ hand darted out in front of the Wanderer indicating that he should step back.

“What did I do?” the Wanderer asked, fearing his offense.

“This is why I cannot allow anyone past that door.” She warned.

“I’ve never seen anything like this, what are they?”

“The green one is the Emerald of Wisdom, the blue is the Jewel of Innocence.” She said walking close and waving her had above them both. “They are the greatest of treasures, and must be protected at all costs.”

The Jewel of Innocence began glowing brightly again as her hand passed over it. She then turned back to the Wanderer and walked him out of the room. Clutching the bucket tightly, the Wanderer walked into the courtyard leaving the Priestess to secure the shrine. There in the middle of the temple courtyard the old decrepit well stood, weathered and neglected. When he reached the well he rested his weight against the rim, dislodging a small stone that went plummeting into the darkness. The ominous sound of the stone colliding with the dry bottom of the well implied that his chore would be far more effort than he originally thought. With quiet reserve the Wanderer adjusted his sheath buckle and limped out into the clearing surrounding the temple. He remembered a small stream beyond the path that brought him to the shrine. He felt himself actually looking forward to the walk, now that he actually had a place to return to.

PART THREE


Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com

The Wanderer - Part One

Deep within the hills and cliffs of a long forgotten land a Wanderer travels through a thickly wooded forest. Days of walking caused the fresh wounds beneath the poorly dressed bandages to bleed through his kimono. On his back he carried a rusted sword concealed in a tattered sheath. The blade did not belong to the sheath, much as he did not belong in the peaceful hills he traveled. Purple flowers fluttered down from the trees, adorning the path he walked with their beauty, but not one petal landed on him.

As he walked past a bend in the path a clearing opened in front of him. Like a diamond in the rough, a modest temple sat at the opposite edge of the clearing. Every step he took began to feel like he was falling towards the temple. With fatigue gripping him tightly his vision blurred with every step. Closer now, he could see a Priestess sweeping the steps of the shrine. He stumbled, fixated on the Priestess, the exhaustion and excitement of seeing the vision before him becoming intoxicating. As she locked eyes on him his pain slipped away, as if shedding threadbare garments. The Priestess froze as the Wanderer approached. He reached the edge of the shrine and the Priestess dropped her broom simultaneously as the Wanderer collapsed.

His senses began to return to him with the sensation of his eyelids burning; it was all he could do to force them open. There, at the end of a modest bed of straw he saw the Priestess preparing soup. Her caution had given way to compassion, he would never truly fathom what a difficult feat this was for her. But he was grateful that she had. Seeing that the Wanderer was now awake she brought forth a wooden bowl and spoon and positioned herself to feed him.

“No,” he muttered. “I can’t.”

“You need your strength.” She whispered, forcing the spoon into his mouth.

“I can’t,” he said with bits of carrot in his mouth. “I can’t take your food.”

“Well,” she said, with a devious smile. “I made enough for two, and I’ve already eaten. So if you make me throw this away I will be most upset.”

As he tried to reposition himself for his meal the blanket slid off his chest. All of the bandages he had dressed himself with had been replaced with clean white bandages. Each one wrapped with surgical precision, even his skin had been washed clean. His feeble attempts at modesty only result in further exposure. A wry smile crept across the Priestess’ lips as her vermilion eyes sparkled with delight. Spoonful after spoonful of soup slowly crossed the Wanderer’s lips until only the sounds of wood scraping upon wood was left in the bowl. The Priestess gathered up the bowls and set them to rest in a large tub of water. Returning to the bedside she began laying out a thin blanket on the frigid stone floor.

“Priestess, no,” he whispered, attempting to get up. “I cannot let you sleep on the floor, you belong in this bed, not I.”

“You can barely move, let alone crawl,” she whispered back in her softest voice. “I cannot allow you to sleep on the floor either.”

She settled herself at his side and gazed into his dark, weary eyes. Through drooping eyelids she could see into his heart, that he meant her no harm, and had only the most honorable of intentions. Without an exchange of words the Wanderer moved as much as he could to give his host a place to sleep. She gladly took a place beside him on the bed. When she pulled the blanket close the Wanderer draped his arm over hers. As the Priestess’ rhythmic breathing synced up with the sounds of the night, the Wanderer leaned forward and kissed her bare shoulder before concealing it. Sinking into the bed he slipped into unconsciousness never knowing of the smile worn by a Priestess pretending to sleep.



PART TWO (click here)


Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com

A New Blog Project

Seeing as though I've neglected my blog-fans, but I have a little treat in store for you. Consider it a consolation prize for being exileless.

I'm am going to post the story I wrote for Mitzee (which I finally finished), she asked "for a story about me that's not about me."

It's long and dripping with symbolism (like my...)

The more you know her, the more you'll get it. But I digress, the story is called The Wanderer, enjoy...


Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com

HNB- Half Nekked Biker

She says that the two greatest loves of her life are her Bandit and me.
She says that greatest exhilaration she gets in life come from the Bandit and me.

I can't say that I go as fast as the bandit, but I do have a vibrate feature.


(note: there are no training wheels on the bike, but the kickstand is down)


Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com

Best Girlfriend EVER!

How do I describe the perfect girlfriend?

Like this:

Exile- So what do you want to do?
Peaches- Well, let's have sex. Afterwards we can either play video games* or watch Babylon 5**.
Exile- God I love you.



*She's currently playing Jak & Daxter
**Babylon 5 is the greatest show ever!


Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com