Blisters Chapters 1-2 (Derick Keyman Tale)

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Blisters Chapters 1-2 (Derick Keyman Tale)

Post by Derickkeyman » Thu Nov 03, 2016 6:48 pm

Chapter One- Arrival of the Fittest

“Welcome to the Hellmouth, boy. Try to avoid the demons. It doesn’t look like you would last a minute against an imp.” And that was how the guards to the city of Kasyr greeted Derick as he entered. The desert had been hard on his bare feet, and his skin was chalky and cracked. Red had developed in patches along his arms as the sun seared his skin. Slung across his back was a large leather pack that contained most of his personal effects: his bashrah skin armor, an iron short barrel rifle, spare arm and leg parts, an empty bottle of rum, and the two remaining Swamp Ass cigarettes. Derick himself was wearing nothing more than a loose white tunic, white cloth pants, and his starmetal earrings. The pirate had managed to maintain the grass beard over the course of his journey and his shaggy hair had managed to become more ragged and matted. On his side sat his clockwork revolver kaalcite coach gun which gleamed in the hot desert sun. He looked like a homeless wanderer, which is essentially what he’d become.

Derick had no delusions that once he had embarked upon this journey that there was no turning back for him. He had stopped briefly in Windsong to sell the house and get some coinage from that. It was a quick sell, so he only made two hundred keshra off of it, but it was better than nothing. He figured that he would need some money if he was to do what he wanted to do here. Bribes always helped everything.

So, he passed through the boromandite city walls and into the bustling fortress city of Kasyr, where he planned to join the city guard. Simply put, he wanted to find a way to curb his tendencies. Derick had no delusions as to what he was, a drinking, sinning, fighting, dirty slut. It just wasn’t until recently that he’d discovered just what all that debauchery had brought upon himself and those around him.

He accidentally stepped on a piece of metal, further singeing his blistered foot and wrenching him out of his moment of self reflection. He stifled a curse and looked at his surroundings. He wanted to find a cheap inn to start with. A place where he could stay the night and not have to worry about smelling like gutter stink in the morning. No, he couldn’t do that anymore. Disgusting habits were to be strictly forbidden. Derick had placed himself on a regimen of strict self control.

As he walked down the main street of the city heading towards a town square, Derick eyed the shops. Each one was special and unique, a little business that reflected the very nature of the Kasyr, a microcosm of what Derick was looking for.

A bakery had an elderly woman behind the counter, showing off her goods to hungry customers. She took orders and yelled them back to where, presumably, there was a baker taking requests. The woman herself was a Tashrani, her skin darkened by the sun and wrinkled with age. She reminded Derick of the walls that he had just passed through. Aged and weather worn yet stalwart and fighting. He could see how she limped as she moved along the counter. Her hip joint was out of shape, probably from a wound long ago. A brief pang of admiration washed through him. He had given up multiple times due to his injuries but this woman, she didn’t give a flying testicle whether she was in pain or not. There was work to be done, damn it, and she was going to do it.

That was something, a city that reflected upon itself. Part of Derick wanted to look upon the stars over this city to see what they were like, but it was too early in the day for that, yet. He had many more wanderings to do… but part of him did stay outside the bakery. Part of him did wonder if he could actually look up at the stars for once and not wince away.

Chapter Two- Sing Me a Note

He grumbled and moved on, eager to find a place to get off of his wearing legs and perhaps get a drink. That was something he desperately needed. After a few more hours of wandering, he found himself a cruddy little inn just off of a secondary street. The entrance was in an alley that stunk of shit, so it naturally attracted Derick, something that when he noted it added to the self loathing he’d developed.

He walked towards the door and placed a metal hand on the knob, pausing there for a second. What in the name of fuck was he doing here? He shook for a moment, doubt coursing through him as he stared down at his hand. His hand. He lost his real one over twenty years ago fighting a war he had no stake in. There, among the chaos and bloodshed that tinted the stars red, he had felt truly happy and at home.

Derick wondered whether that was what he was truly trying to get here. Happiness. He tried to count the emotions he was feeling then. Doubt. Doubt as to whether was he was doing was right. He’d left Kaeli home alone with a former Reaver. He’d left Reiko in a house steeped in sin. He’d sold his past and abandoned Xanni at her tomb. Doubt was present.

Anger. There was a lot of anger right now. Some of it was directed at other people. Archer, Cecilia, Berwyn, Kaeli, even Xanni caught his wrath as he stared down at the gears barely visible beneath their metal casing. They wound and turned and clicked like his mind, a confused chaos the untrained mind couldn’t hope to understand. Derick was woefully untrained and this angered him.

Disgust. It was different from anger in that it was deeper, truer, farer from the surface. It sat in Derick’s stomach like a stone and ate away his insides like acid. He was disgusted with himself. He didn’t wince at the smell of shit, he was comforted by it. He wallowed and mired in filth and his soul and morals were filthy because of it. He needed to change, and he knew that.

The first step was opening the door.

The inn’s name was the C Note, but should have been more aptly titled the Pit of Shit. There were maybe six tables in the smoky bar room that served as the main dining room and front counter as well. Among the smoke and tables was a small gathering of men who looked like the kind of people you go to a shady place to hire to kill people or smuggle drugs or burn down houses… oh wait. He slowly and carefully made his way towards the front counter, which also served as a bar, and said, “Oi, ya’ go’a room f’r rent? I be stayin’ here a day ‘r two.”

The bartender turned to stare at Derick with grey eyes for a moment, “Yeah, we have a room available. Ten silver a night, plus room and board.”

“Deal.” Derick reached into his pockets and paid for a couple of nights before taking a key from the man and heading upstairs. Tomorrow he would begin his actual mission here. And no, it was not going to be easy to do. But, that fact drove him to further depths of disgust for himself which in turn fueled his drive to go through with this. Derick had become, if nothing else, a man of resolve.
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