Very quick doodle-type of deal. Really have been wanting to continue to write for Fractures, but I'm left... uninspired in that direction, I guess. Not sure if this is gonna ever become anything, but who knows?
It was dusk on the island. The sun bathed the small beach with warm orange light as it set, its rays hitting a stone face carved from the rock of a series of large cliffs. Waves gently crashed against the sand as seabirds flew overhead. It was a spectacular sight. One of the avian creatures broke from its group, having seen an oddity in all the serenity. It gracefully landed on a large metallic grey cylinder and pecked at the object curiously. Suddenly, a loud hiss and a creak could be heard from the cylinder, scaring the bird away. The rounded edge fell off, exposing its contents.
A figure emerged from the mysterious object. He was in a daze, as if he had just awakened from a long sleep, and walked out clumsily. He felt as if he had never taken a step before. After a few strides, he fell down to a knee, murmuring something under his breath. He picked himself back up and inhaled deeply, observing his surroundings all the while. He recognized nothing. Delving into his mind for some sort of memory, he was both surprised and a bit angered to find almost nothing. All that he remembered were fragments, pieces of dreams, but nothing coherent. How could that be? No, there had to be something, he knew. He had an identity, and he could never forget who he was entirely.
Tahu, he thought. My name... is Tahu.
He walked slowly back to the cylindrical object. A quick look at the interior revealed that it was meant to be sort of transport. Inside it was a type of harness, no doubt where he had been kept all this time, and a set of controls. More interesting, however, were the two crimson objects stored beside the harness. One was a large sword shaped like the flames of an inferno. The other was a type of mask, a sleek shape with two wide slits for the eyes and three slashes on each cheek. It seemed vaguely familiar, as did the sword. He decided that both were his, or else he would not have them in his possession.
It was then that a sensation came over him that he had not felt in a long time: thirst. How long had he been lying in the transport? He decided not to think about it and instead walked to the gentle waters of the ocean, knelt down, cupped his hands, and drank. He gazed at his reflection inquisitively.
He was a relatively young man of about six feet with fair skin and mid-length dark brown hair. His eyes were a hazel color, a fiery expression in them at almost all times and he sported a black goatee. Most unusual, however, was his attire. He wore a black vest, and over his torso, shoulders, elbows, knees, and feet were pieces of bright red armor. What did he need to wear armor for? He shook his head, having gotten more questions than answers.
Stepping into the transport, he grabbed the sword and placed the mask over his face. He let out a long exhale. Somehow, the headgear just felt right, as if he were shielded by some unknown presence. He could not be harmed by the outside world, he felt. Nothing could stop him. That said, nothing could stop him from... what, exactly? What was he meant to do? Surely, he had to have some purpose here in this strange new land. Surely, he had to have some sort of...
Duty, he realized. I... I have a duty to... someone. He grimaced behind his mask. Why? Why can’t I... remember?
He sighed, glancing over to his left. He saw a sort of path leading a forest-like area. Waves of heat came over him as he walked in that direction. He was satisfied. He didn’t know why, but he liked the heat. Something about it was so intoxicating, so welcoming. The beach soon gave way to an earthen path that split into two directions. One way led to the forest, but the other would take him to what looked like a massive fortress, complete with what appeared to be armed guards stationed all about.
Something tells me that I’ll not be so well-received. His right hand gripped on the hilt of his sword ever-so-tightly. Well, I hope for all of us that they’re ready for me.
My Name... Is Tahu
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Posted Nov 06 2011 - 05:40 PM
"That's the problem with heroes, really. Their only purpose in life is to thwart others. They make no plans, develop no strategies. They react instead of act. Without villains, heroes would stagnate. Without heroes, villains would be running the world. Heroes have morals. Villains have work ethic."
—Narrator, The Last Avengers Story
—Narrator, The Last Avengers Story
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