Despair Lost

Thank you for checking this out! It's quite short because it's kind of an intro/background piece. I'm going to add on, but I'm not sure if it'll be a (a) role play, (b) choose your own, or (c) regular story. I'm still in brainstorming, so we'll see.

Mostly I'm here to test this piece on a small audience. I want to make sure the emotions come across right and such. Feel free to give me feedback on anything, though I'm okay with simple replies such as "That was awesome!"

One rule: I don't want you to copy this to any other part of the internet, even if it's just Google Docs. I'd love for you to share the link with friends, but don't send them a copy or even a sample. Normally I don't mind this kind of stuff, but because this is a first write, I don't want it available anywhere else. Thank you for respecting this.

Now, you may recognize me from a long time ago. I've been on hiatus (obviously). The character showcased in this story is the first one I signed up with here on CHB: Ker Inumin Mohen. Since I created him, his story has evolved and morphed, though I kept with his original concept. I've finally found a world for him, but, like I said, it's a work in progress.

Without further ado (because I already have a ton), I give you:


Ker staggered from the raft on to precious dry sand. He couldn't get away from the monstrous vessel fast enough, mostly because he found it almost impossible to stand. His abused legs wobbled ceaselessly, but he wouldn't let himself stop. He had to keep moving, had to find food. The repeated mantra of his primary needs kept his scarred feet moving one step at a time, until he forgot the way the sand gritted into his cuts and callouses.

Endless minutes passed away. All thought beyond his stomach fell out of existence. Ker started shivering, but he wasn't aware of it. The sun conspired with his fatigue from lack of food, sleep, and water, as well as the welts, scrapes, and bruises littering his body. The combined aches and sun burns fostered a fever in him.

Keep moving. Find shelter. Eat. Drink. Sleep.

The words continued over and over again, keeping Ker from dropping in his tracks. His stomach growled, adding to the pain. His mouth refused to produce saliva; his throat felt as rough as the sandy beach. Ker's breathing was ragged. Moans escaped his throat with every step. His eyes stung, but he had no tears in him. Besides, he couldn't let himself cry. His eyelids drooped in an effort to keep himself from giving in.

Keep moving. Don't think.

Despite all his pain and dulled thoughts, Ker recognized the sound of approaching footsteps. He cataloged his surroundings as if he had been on red alert the whole time. The ground was smoother, like soft soil ready for planting. There weren't many obstructions near by, except for a copse of trees he had just passed through that wrapped around on his left. The sun was about a handsbreadth above the tops of the trees; he was facing north into a flat but hazy landscape. He spun around, wincing as a few scars complained. A pair of men, both taller than any he'd met, were jogging toward him from within the trees. He wasn't sure if they had seen him yet since they were looking at the ground, but they would soon.

They slowed to a stop just outside the treeline, not quite close enough to reach. The men sneered shoulders and head and shoulders above Ker. His father might have been able to match the height of the shoulders of one, but Ker wasn't quite fully grown yet. They wore full armor of a reflective material he wasn't familiar with. The getup appeared cumbersome, which he knew would prove to be his advantage. Unfortunately, it prevented him from seeing their muscles, so he couldn't tell how trained they were and probably wouldn't be able to predict their moves in battle.

Ker stood with his knees slightly bent and his left foot somewhat forward. His yes flitted over the men, looking for the best way to steal a weapon. He thought he could sweep his leg under one and kick the other on the follow-through. They held themselves like they thought it would be an easy fight. They would soon learn better.

One was speaking to him, but in a language he didn't understand. The man waited for Ker to respond, and when he didn't, the jeered with his companion. They drew closer, keeping their weapons at their sides. Ker tensed in preparation for the moment they would be close enough as they kept talking.

Ker sprang. He kicked his leg toward the right man as he leaned on the other leg. Ker was met with a sudden jarring as his skin collided with the strange material. He twisted in a fall, landing on his face. The men above him laughed. He lay dazed for a while, since his leg wasn't the only part of him injured. He struggled to think straight. A hand touched his arm and he managed to roll to his feet. He shook his head, but that only made the throbbing worse.

One man made a jab at him, so Ker reached forward to yank the weapon out of his hand. He succeeded, but at a price. The weapon was also reflective, and two whole edges had been sharpened. The maneuver resulted in Ker cutting his hand. He flipped the weapon around and found a soft grip. It was a good thing he knew how to fight with both hands.

The men stared at him with mixed levels of surprise. It gave Ker just the time he needed to make a counter attack. He sliced the edge toward the man who still had a weapon. It hit his hand. The man yelled and dropped his weapon. Ker flicked his wrist and caught the unarmed man in the elbow. He felt the weapon point sink and knew his observation had been correct: that area was a weak spot.

The first man ignored his injured fingers and pulled a shorter version of the weapon from his belt. Ker knew he couldn't best both of them in the condition he was in. Already he felt the sun sapping his strength. He parried the small weapon. The men stepped back a bit, so Ker retreated as well. They stared at him with wide eyes, like a cat after it jumped out of a surprise bath. They turned and ran.

Relief quickly gave way to exhaustion. Ker fell to his knees. This time he gave in to the sobs. He dropped the strange weapon and curled into a ball.

I failed, he thought, pulling at his hair. I'm weak.

His father's words from years ago spilled into his mind.

"Are you really my son?"

Ker tensed, pulling himself tighter.

No, I'm not. I failed you.

Caranth's taunting came back to him.

"You are broken now. Your training is complete."

Yes, there's nothing left of me.

A memory came, unbidden. On the battle field, a place all too familiar to him. Few were left standing. Ker had just killed the last man in sight, or so he thought. Another soldier came at him from behind, too fast for him to react. Then the dagger was in Turanth's breast, his guardian. A blood-lust took over him, and he killed the attacker without pause. The battle resumed as more soldiers swarmed at him. Then an arrow buried itself in his shoulder. He didn't even flinch. He pulled the arrow out and used it to slay another...

Ker felt the wound flame, as though the memory were real, and his skin had opened up again. The attack was barely a moon or two ago, not enough time for it to heal properly. Then when Caranth triumphed and added to his pain...

Gone, Ker mourned in the present. Everyone's gone. I failed them all and now they're gone! He wished tears would come. He had cried only once before, the first time his wrist had been slice open. Since then he had learned to defend himself, both from assassins and sorrow, fear.

I'm broken, and I still can't cry. I"m worthless. Worthless and broken. So broken...

It hurts so much!

A tiny sense of warmth wrapped around him. In his fevered state, he didn't acknowledge the abnormality of the feeling. He simply curled himself tighter, trying to escape the embrace.

I'm worthless.

Dear child, do not despair so, said the warmth. I'm here with you now. I will protect you.

I don't need protecting! Ker replied. I can take care of myself.

Dear one, everyone needs protecting some times. Even your father had you and your mother by his side.

The voice conjured an image of his parents in a rare embrace. His mental self reached out to touch the ghosts, but then an enemy soldier cut down his mother. His father slew the attacker and then turned on Ker.

"The enemy is coming and it's all because you failed to kill them first!"

Then a spear truck through his father's gut. He fell with anger in his eyes and blood on his lips. Caranth stood in his place, taunting Ker with a knife.

The vision was pushed away by a golden-white blankness. The voice took vague shape in wisps of gold clouds.

Turn away from your past. I can teach you to continue a happy life without these memories holding you back.

Ker scoffed, Happy life? I've never been happy. Except maybe, when I win a battle. I don't know what happiness is, and I'm not worthy of discovering it.

Of course you're worthy! Everyone deserves to be happy! Please, let me help you!

The gold wrapped around him. Ker pushed back, though why he was resisting, he couldn't say.

Just go to sleep, now. It will be all better in the morning.

Leave me alone! Ker protested, but he found sleep overpowering.

Go to sleep, little one. I will be with you when you wake.