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Traveler's Will

Iniciado por Kvothe, 16/03/2023 às 17:43

16/03/2023 às 17:43 Última edição: 16/03/2023 às 20:46 por Kvothe
Quem é vivo sempre aparece hahaha. Bom, depois de um tremendo tempo fora dessa comunidade linda, eis me aqui de volta, não para o desenvolvimento de jogos, mas como "escritor amador". Portanto, gostaria de apresentar uma novel que comecei há uns 40 dias. Ela é inglês e irei postar o primeiro capítulo dela aqui, o restante, peço que visitem o link abaixo para continuar a leitura, caso interesse obviamente.

Sobre: This is a tale of a man known as the Traveller. In the pursuit of his own meaning and his thirsty will to craft his worth, he found himself facing the darkness of the world. In a deadly fight for survival, he shall tell his story. And as if each road should have, this is a tale of sorrow, a tale of wandering, a tale of one soul's search for the escape of his own fate, and how that search, and the fearless will that drove it, gave birth to a legend.

Link: https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/64388/travelers-will

Capítulo 1 - The Deliverer (~1.9k de palavras)
Spoiler

The ringing of the bell echoed through as a thick mist rose on the horizon. The farmers halted their labor, glancing at the fields and up at the indigo sky. As the temperature dropped, an eerie stillness gripped the air. Three chimes rang from the first, and the villagers gathered their tools as they hastened toward the largest structure in the village.

The dirt roads bustled with hushed footsteps and mumbled voices. No one spoke, and few made eye contact. A steady line formed into Saint Rose Church. Each person took their turn to get a seat and wait for Father Joe's customary speech. Some fidget with unease, while others intermittently cast nervous glances at the church's rear entrance.

"It's gonna be okay," a mother muffled as she held her child in her arms. "He'll make it!"

Today was not like any other day. Some viewed it as a ray of hope. And those who lacked enthusiasm saw it as the end of the noose of a rope in their necks. The Deliverer arrived in Small Leaf twice a month. And as tough as harvest time, he faced dangers and uncertainty with every step, determined to bring much-needed goods and life-saving medicines to each fairway.

The lamps marked nighttime, and the anticipation in the air was palpable. Excited whispers resonated among the kids. Elders told them to stop to honor the sacred building and the old man beside the stage, while they burned their eyes at the youths.

At a steady pace, the priest stood at the pulpit. His weathered face, lined with years of devotion and wisdom, drew the attention of the crowd. Dressed in a long, flowing robe of a dull shade of gray, marked by time and chore. And despite his advanced years, he towered tall and proud, his eyes still shining with a spark of light that bears a piece of goodwill.

"Everyone," Father Joe said, beaming at the crowd. His arms opened wide as if to grasp the stiffness in the air. "Today is Sunday and before the Deliverer arrives, I would like to say a few words.

Those in the mist have noted the sight of creatures lurking outside. Snow leopards and snow monkeys. And near the river where we clean our clothes. Some women have told me they heard some low and crispy grunts. Which makes me wonder about bears around."

Some paused in their pitch as they took their time to raise their voices, while others tilted their heads left to right with an uneasy look. The muttering grew up in a rebellious cut to the established silence until the priest clapped his hands. This rippled a minor sound wave at the top of their scalp, awakening the chills of everyone.

"I must say, please," the old man looked up, "that we must not forget the protection around the village and that nobody has suffered attacks for a long time. But at the same time, I must urge everyone to be careful as we live in tough times and we must protect each other.

"From the evil in the hills and roots," the priest directed his glances to the children, "to the seed of the future. I fear that in the near future troubling waters will come at us! But also, as Saint Rose once said to us: is it at the dusk we must prevail as the dawn soon arrives, and with it comes the birth of a new day. A new hope."

And in the gap between the villagers holding their breath in awe and the next speech, they heard hushed footsteps at the back of the stage. A middle-aged man broke the commotion with his appearance. Sweating and holding the corners of a near chair, he grasped a round of breath and spoke: "He made it!"

The clicking sound of the doors opening vibrated the floors. At the entrance, a youthful figure emerged. With pale skin and short curly black hair, he made it to the front of the stage. Taking a quick glance at the priest with a smirk on his face, he rotated and faced the public.

"It is in the back. Nothing is missing," the sixteen-year-old grinned, "pills, spirit stones, and a pack of Baurous' ale!"

Waves of laughter and jubilant exclamations filled the air as the mood shifted from one of the anticipations to joy. The priest held his breath, pondering between either calling up the breaking of the atmosphere or holding his smile and staring at the familiar youth.

"Okay, everyone," the old man raised his voice, "Before we end it. Let everyone stand and pray."

The reciting painted the mood. Some men held tight to the chairs, their mouths moving while their hearts claimed the ale. And the women wept at the news of the goods and the promise of better days. And the children gazed with curiosity at the youth near the pulpit.

***

The familiar gathering had convened at the Inn. Though only numbering twenty, it still constituted more than half the population of the village, filling the room to capacity.

Near the balcony, two men are the focus of the room. On the left, holding a mug of ale was Father Joe, and on the right was the novelty of the night. Asdras, fulfilling his role as both a storyteller and a source of news. While the men savored their drinks, and the women tended to their children while sharing meals and topping up the often empty mugs. The Deliverer's words were met with a mixture of rapt awareness and curious observation.

"Listen," Asdras stand, "the Council of North predicts the next Eruption may occur at the end of the next fall. The military is expected to come and enlist the youths to head to Baurous for training and preparation."

The priest scanned the faces of the young listeners. "Do you understand what this means? It's a difficult path, I know, but it's also a chance to better your lives and change your fate and this village."

"Five years have passed since the last Eruption," his face grew solemn. "I still recall the bloodshed and the loss of heroes who fell to the beasts. Some villages were never seen again.

"But at the same time, numeral figures raised, and with that, several places benefited from the improvement and the hope to prosper for a better life. As everyone here knows, our distant neighbor received the reward to move forward and transform itself into a town. And the reason is that one person received the title of champion, his name being Gravious.

"Can you imagine it?" Father Joe's eyes sparked, "better seeds, more tasty milk, and no longer the need for the Deliverer to come and bring us pills because of the doctors. This is what we need to look for!"

The silence grew stronger. In contrast to the men, the women stopped doing anything but sipping on their mugs shyly. Everyone pondered the news about sending their children to war. Some curved their backs in defeat, and a few raised their fists to protest, but did not know what to say or how to fix the issue. It's not like they don't understand the seriousness of the beasts or can't resist the military order.

"Brudder Asdras, kin it be so you aimin' ta stop comin' 'round these parts?" a boy interrupted the solemn air.

"Oh, it's you, Cabbage boy," the kids started to laugh. "Yeah, I guess. You know, the Deliverer must be replaced at each full moon. So someone else will be in my place to bring the goods and news."

"Ain't we got no say 'bout sending the young'uns yonder?" a woman rumbled in a shy voice.

"Ya know it ain't up ta ya, Bettie," a man spoke grave-like. "If'n we hide, we loses them fellers bringing the goods and tonics, we ain't making it till winter comes 'round. Ya knows that cursed fog's gonna take the young'uns if'n we don't git on with it."

Father Joe and Asdras remained silent. They knew the difficulty of the situation and at the same moment; it was their duty to bring the news and paint the scene for the villagers. In a time like these, the church and the military walk side by side for the bigger picture.

"You guys know, I've been preaching about it every week," the elder spoke, scratching his beard. "Yes, it has its risks, but the benefits are more than enough to transform the lives of everyone in this village. And, it's not like the regular conscription that takes place every year. This time, they will guarantee the safety of the village and send a medic to stay here until the end of the Eruption."

"Purty words, preacher, but we know the odds of kickin' the bucket 'fore we git hitched is plumb higher," someone in the back shouted.

With a slight sigh, Father Joe headed to the exit while waving his hand, telling Asdras to follow him up. Apart from his speech, he was aware that the darkness that soon would reach the fairway communities was heavy as rocks in the mountain. Few were going to get the goods from all of this.

The door closing sparked a ruckus as the villagers argued about the news and their future. Punches sound on the table while a few broken glasses showed the time for the kids to end their day as the adults raise their primal selves.

"What about you, Asdras? Will you join the military or enroll in the North's Academy?" Father Joe asked.

Asdras gave a slow nod. "I'm not sure yet. I need to raise money for, y'know, to discover more about myself. The academy is fine, but being a soldier rewards you more in the short term."

"I implore you to consider enrolling in the academy," Joe said gruffly. "You may possess physical strength beyond your years, but I am confident in your intelligence and potential for a bright future there. At least you're not like that fool."

"He is in the same spot?"

"Yes," Joe sighed, "He is in that place. Try to change that hot-headed mind. It's the last thing I ask you before you go. We may not see each other in the future with such a frequency, but I must tell you one thing before you go."

Asdras meet his eyes with a serious expression. The priest was one of the few people he had some relationship with and in his mind, the father he never had.

"You are special, Asdras," Joe patted his head, "don't you dare to forget about it, and I'm sure that one day you'll recover the missing pieces of your puzzle. And, I shall be praying about your future path, being it whatever it may be."

"Thank you, Joe," Asdras hugged him, "I'll not forget you!"

"And one more thing, kid," Joe grinned wide, "In the road we take, one thing we must not discard with such an easy thought and its connections. If someday you find a person that can shed blood with you, like that boy, be brave and don't run away."
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