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Hey folks. I've been writing the backstory to the parents of my FFXI character, Xhaz, and I wanted to post it here and maybe get a critique. It's the first draft, and this is only the first third or so of chapter one, because I realize it's pretty short.
Anyway, if you've got the time, give it a read.
“Hand me the pruning-uning shears, dear,†came a voice. Its speaker was obscured by a large pompous breed of cactus, rigidly trying bloom with feeble flowers. A small, round woman obliged, setting a small pair of worn shears into her partner’s hand. Small, child-like thumbs touched for a brief moment in the exchange.
“Thank you, Yemli,†said the squat man on the other side of the plant. He began again his routine of trimming the larger thorns of the cactus, collecting the clear juices that seeped slowly to the exposed tips into a clean glass jar.
“Look, this one is dying,†said the woman named Yemli, gingerly cupping a small, dry bud in her gloved palm. Indeed, the sweltering conditions of the area had killed the tiny flower’s chance at survival. “Nothing beautiful can survive out here.†She laid it back down in its powdery deathbed, examining the rest of the failing flowers comprising the depressing garden.
Each summer, the conditions of the vast Meriphataud Mountain range got steadily worse, as stagnant gusts traveled forth from the barren Sauromugue Champaign, blowing pale dusts into the air, refracting light and heating the already warm soil. Lesser generations of wildlife had begun to seek shelter in the more fertile Tahrongi Canyon, leaving behind the decaying plants that used to provide them food.
“Harko, they’ll be coming soon,†remembered Yemli, standing, brushing the sand from her trousers. Her partner and husband followed suit, stuffing the remaining specimens into his pouch and getting to his feet. A sudden gust of wind excited them both, and in their jolt, they grabbed hands and jogged.
It was unusual the amount of Goblin caravans that now ran through the mountains, and even more strange that they attacked Windurstians openly and savagely if seen. There are limitations to diplomacy in times of war, but the sudden aggression of the Goblins was a danger to reckon with. The Federation of Windurst had all but abandoned its efforts in the area, providing the couple with a stable biome to conduct research in, although, herbology seemed to be a useless trade in such a wasted stretch of land. In this time, Goblin raiders had secured the north and south roads leading to and from the mountain pass, making travel to the Grand Duchy of Jeuno a perilous trip.
“This way,†issued Harko, pulling his wife down a small ravine that she recognized immediately. It had been one year ago today that they had begun their campaign in the range, and their series of escape paths and hideouts had become second nature. The ravine split in two, jarring their current course to the right and so deep into a rut that they were soon in a tunnel. In months previous, they had dug this hole to investigate the roots of a tree above, but after concluding that experiment, they finished the excavation through to the other side, providing them a passageway to their eighteenth camp of the year.
“Almost there!†hissed Yemli, shallow on breath. Small, stubby legs weren’t exactly ideal for long-distance running.
The tunnel opened into sunlight again, and before them was the only difficult part of the journey back. An open plain lay between them and the last ravine, which led to the small encampment they called home. By now, the creaky wheels of an approaching wagon were getting louder. On their left side, the trade road stretched out, clearly visible. The Goblins were approaching from behind them, and they decided on duties.
Harko quickly opened his pack, issuing forth a small crossbow. With nimble accuracy, he loaded a bolt. He turned his gaze to Yemli, who had clenched her fists, holding generous pinches of prism powder. They could not risk wasting the powder, as they wouldn’t be able to make the border crossing into Tahrongi without it. Harko closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. He lifted the crossbow and aimed to his left, sight set on the crest of a hill. Yemli held her breath.
Within moments, the creaking increased and a Goblin trader stepped over the hill, lumbering down the road, backpack stuffed and overbearing in size. Harko’s target has yet to come into view. Wrenched into the Goblin’s shoddy gloves were two reins. Following their master, two large, ruffled, and apparently mistreated Chocobos stepped roughly in unison, yolked to the wagon behind them. Harko knew Yemli was now preparing to leap into the open. He confidently let his aim settle on the nearest Chocobo’s right leg.
The chaos that ensued after the bolt impaled its target was frightening. The injured Chocobo, warking uncontrollably, had ripped forth from its yolk and nearly tossed the rein-holder straight into the air. Yemli sprang from her spot and broke into a mad dash towards the ravine. Adrenaline pumping to every corner of his tiny body, Harko leapt forth from where he was and followed his wife, ducking behind small bushes and aiming more shots, which in his anxious state, missed indefinitely, causing more confusion among the Goblins.
“Tar tars!†shouted the foremost Goblin, pointing wildly in their direction and trying to gain control over his crazed Chocobo. Yemli and Harko each issued a silent yelp and rolled their way quickly across the field, kicking up sand and dust, enveloping themselves in as much of a cloud cover as they could muster. At last they stumbled, head over heels down their safety ravine, out of sight. They quickly got to their feet, panicked and bruised, and maintained their sprint. This new ravine cut even deeper into the earth, running alongside, and at points, under the road. Yemli, constantly checking over her shoulder, managed to hook her small toe under a root, sending her hurtling at the ground. Surprised and aloof, she flung out her right arm and opened her hand to catch her fall. The bit of prism powder she had been clutching sprayed out before her, grains of it dusting her front side.
Harko, overhearing her stumble, turned immediately and helped his wife to her feet, noticing that she was already fading from view, the magic of the powder making her halfway visible. They continued on, Harko leading the way, with the torso, left arm, and feet of Yemli trailing him. After what seemed to be twenty minutes of running, the scrambling sounds of the Goblins had all but disappeared, and they were standing before a large boulder as wide as the ravine. The walls had become canyon-like, and as they looked up, they could see that night was falling.
“Are you alrightaru, Yemli-Lemli?†Harko said compassionately, holding her small hand and dusting away the remaining grains of prism powder from her garb. She was now fully visible save for a few splotches upon her face and arms, which made her appear like an unfinished jigsaw puzzle.
“Yes, Harko, I’m alright,†she replied, noticing the look of concern had not faded from his dusty face. “I’m…sorry that I dropped that pinch of powder…â€
Harko-Mizarko took little Yemli into his arms. He rubbed her back and whispered in her ear, “Don’t worry. We will get back. It will just be tougher this time.â€
With great effort, the couple routinely moved this boulder out of the way and shimmied inside the cave it was blocking, lighting a lantern as they crept. Their season was over, and the trip back to Windurst would be arranged for the morning. Certainly their attack on the Goblin caravan would have already reached an outpost, and their journey would be more perilous than it ever had. With only enough prism powder for one taru-taru, changes would have to be made. As Harko retired for the evening, pulling the small hand-knit blanket over his squat form, Yemli kept the lantern dimly lit, writing out the day’s quota. She rolled the parchment when she had finished, and set the quill next to it. Creeping up next to her companion, she couldn’t help but think she was fortunate today. Fate had dealt them the tarut of luck, and hopefully not for the last time.
Anyway, if you've got the time, give it a read.
Banished
Chapter One – Mazurka of the Meriphataud
“Thank you, Yemli,†said the squat man on the other side of the plant. He began again his routine of trimming the larger thorns of the cactus, collecting the clear juices that seeped slowly to the exposed tips into a clean glass jar.
“Look, this one is dying,†said the woman named Yemli, gingerly cupping a small, dry bud in her gloved palm. Indeed, the sweltering conditions of the area had killed the tiny flower’s chance at survival. “Nothing beautiful can survive out here.†She laid it back down in its powdery deathbed, examining the rest of the failing flowers comprising the depressing garden.
Each summer, the conditions of the vast Meriphataud Mountain range got steadily worse, as stagnant gusts traveled forth from the barren Sauromugue Champaign, blowing pale dusts into the air, refracting light and heating the already warm soil. Lesser generations of wildlife had begun to seek shelter in the more fertile Tahrongi Canyon, leaving behind the decaying plants that used to provide them food.
“Harko, they’ll be coming soon,†remembered Yemli, standing, brushing the sand from her trousers. Her partner and husband followed suit, stuffing the remaining specimens into his pouch and getting to his feet. A sudden gust of wind excited them both, and in their jolt, they grabbed hands and jogged.
It was unusual the amount of Goblin caravans that now ran through the mountains, and even more strange that they attacked Windurstians openly and savagely if seen. There are limitations to diplomacy in times of war, but the sudden aggression of the Goblins was a danger to reckon with. The Federation of Windurst had all but abandoned its efforts in the area, providing the couple with a stable biome to conduct research in, although, herbology seemed to be a useless trade in such a wasted stretch of land. In this time, Goblin raiders had secured the north and south roads leading to and from the mountain pass, making travel to the Grand Duchy of Jeuno a perilous trip.
“This way,†issued Harko, pulling his wife down a small ravine that she recognized immediately. It had been one year ago today that they had begun their campaign in the range, and their series of escape paths and hideouts had become second nature. The ravine split in two, jarring their current course to the right and so deep into a rut that they were soon in a tunnel. In months previous, they had dug this hole to investigate the roots of a tree above, but after concluding that experiment, they finished the excavation through to the other side, providing them a passageway to their eighteenth camp of the year.
“Almost there!†hissed Yemli, shallow on breath. Small, stubby legs weren’t exactly ideal for long-distance running.
The tunnel opened into sunlight again, and before them was the only difficult part of the journey back. An open plain lay between them and the last ravine, which led to the small encampment they called home. By now, the creaky wheels of an approaching wagon were getting louder. On their left side, the trade road stretched out, clearly visible. The Goblins were approaching from behind them, and they decided on duties.
Harko quickly opened his pack, issuing forth a small crossbow. With nimble accuracy, he loaded a bolt. He turned his gaze to Yemli, who had clenched her fists, holding generous pinches of prism powder. They could not risk wasting the powder, as they wouldn’t be able to make the border crossing into Tahrongi without it. Harko closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. He lifted the crossbow and aimed to his left, sight set on the crest of a hill. Yemli held her breath.
Within moments, the creaking increased and a Goblin trader stepped over the hill, lumbering down the road, backpack stuffed and overbearing in size. Harko’s target has yet to come into view. Wrenched into the Goblin’s shoddy gloves were two reins. Following their master, two large, ruffled, and apparently mistreated Chocobos stepped roughly in unison, yolked to the wagon behind them. Harko knew Yemli was now preparing to leap into the open. He confidently let his aim settle on the nearest Chocobo’s right leg.
The chaos that ensued after the bolt impaled its target was frightening. The injured Chocobo, warking uncontrollably, had ripped forth from its yolk and nearly tossed the rein-holder straight into the air. Yemli sprang from her spot and broke into a mad dash towards the ravine. Adrenaline pumping to every corner of his tiny body, Harko leapt forth from where he was and followed his wife, ducking behind small bushes and aiming more shots, which in his anxious state, missed indefinitely, causing more confusion among the Goblins.
“Tar tars!†shouted the foremost Goblin, pointing wildly in their direction and trying to gain control over his crazed Chocobo. Yemli and Harko each issued a silent yelp and rolled their way quickly across the field, kicking up sand and dust, enveloping themselves in as much of a cloud cover as they could muster. At last they stumbled, head over heels down their safety ravine, out of sight. They quickly got to their feet, panicked and bruised, and maintained their sprint. This new ravine cut even deeper into the earth, running alongside, and at points, under the road. Yemli, constantly checking over her shoulder, managed to hook her small toe under a root, sending her hurtling at the ground. Surprised and aloof, she flung out her right arm and opened her hand to catch her fall. The bit of prism powder she had been clutching sprayed out before her, grains of it dusting her front side.
Harko, overhearing her stumble, turned immediately and helped his wife to her feet, noticing that she was already fading from view, the magic of the powder making her halfway visible. They continued on, Harko leading the way, with the torso, left arm, and feet of Yemli trailing him. After what seemed to be twenty minutes of running, the scrambling sounds of the Goblins had all but disappeared, and they were standing before a large boulder as wide as the ravine. The walls had become canyon-like, and as they looked up, they could see that night was falling.
“Are you alrightaru, Yemli-Lemli?†Harko said compassionately, holding her small hand and dusting away the remaining grains of prism powder from her garb. She was now fully visible save for a few splotches upon her face and arms, which made her appear like an unfinished jigsaw puzzle.
“Yes, Harko, I’m alright,†she replied, noticing the look of concern had not faded from his dusty face. “I’m…sorry that I dropped that pinch of powder…â€
Harko-Mizarko took little Yemli into his arms. He rubbed her back and whispered in her ear, “Don’t worry. We will get back. It will just be tougher this time.â€
With great effort, the couple routinely moved this boulder out of the way and shimmied inside the cave it was blocking, lighting a lantern as they crept. Their season was over, and the trip back to Windurst would be arranged for the morning. Certainly their attack on the Goblin caravan would have already reached an outpost, and their journey would be more perilous than it ever had. With only enough prism powder for one taru-taru, changes would have to be made. As Harko retired for the evening, pulling the small hand-knit blanket over his squat form, Yemli kept the lantern dimly lit, writing out the day’s quota. She rolled the parchment when she had finished, and set the quill next to it. Creeping up next to her companion, she couldn’t help but think she was fortunate today. Fate had dealt them the tarut of luck, and hopefully not for the last time.
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