Staz’ Stanzas

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Rei_Jin
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Staz’ Stanzas

Post by Rei_Jin » Sun Apr 04, 2021 1:31 pm

Written in a neat but large hand, the following is scribed with care to ensure even spacing and placement; clearly the work of an ordered mind.

Entry 1 - Beginnings

About thirty years ago, give or take, a basket was found outside the front gate of a stone and timber fortified compound on the outskirts of Ankhapur. No note was attached to the basket, nor was anyone seen putting it there.

Of course, the basket did not contain fruit or bread, or something else that would be valued. This became apparent when the contents started wailing, which brought one of those within the compound out to investigate.

He, was a novice monk of the Red Knight. This was the House of Strategy, one of two strongholds of the faith. And the contents of the basket was a small, pale, half-orc child.

Not knowing what to do, the novice brought the basket in, which started a chain of events which included the flogging of the novice, messages sent back and forth, and finally a meeting of the church hierarchy.

Some investigations turned up helpful bits and pieces; an orc incursion eight months prior to which they’d sent a unit of the Red Fellowship had resulted in the loss of the unit, as well as the town they had gone to defend. A woman had been seen, covered and concealed, moving through the city before dawn.

And now, what to do.

Figures around a table discussed it at length.

“Can’t we just put it back out there?”
“No. It is only a child.”
“A half-orc child. They’re barely more than beasts!”
“It may be the offspring of one of the faithful.”
“And it may just be an abandoned runt, left to burden us!”

Whilst this was happening, unbeknownst to the men and women locked in debate, the child was not being left unattended. Even if some of those in authority were harsh and uncaring, rarely could the same be said of a cook. Martha had had six of her own, and half-orc or no, she couldn’t leave a babe to starve.

Several hours later, a decision was made.

The child, if it survived, would be given a chance to prove itself worthy of becoming one of the faithful.

IF it survived.

Of course, when informed of this Martha had plenty to say of her own.

And so it was that the little beast, or “Staz” in orcish, found his first home. A wet nurse was brought in (Martha’s sister Bernice), and the child lived with the cook and her family until it was old enough to be weaned; about 4 years of age.

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Re: Staz’ Stanzas

Post by Rei_Jin » Sun Apr 04, 2021 1:48 pm

Entry 2 - Decisions

Now four years of age, the child was no squalling infant. Already bigger than the human children around him of the same age, he was more akin physically to the six and seven year olds, and yet he still retained his alabaster skin and pitch-black hair.

Weaned and removed from his home, he stood before the leaders of the compound, tears in his eyes and every fibre in his body telling him to run.

What was that? Oh, the one in the shining armor with the eye-patch was addressing him.

“Sorry?”

A barked order, and a soldier stepped in and backhanded him, sending him sprawling.

“You WILL stand and pay attention when I am speaking to you, beast!”

Sniffling, wiping his face, Staz stood up and looked at eye-patch.

“There, that’s better. As I was saying, beast, you have two choices. You can leave here and try your luck on the street. Or you can submit to our authority, become one of the novices, work hard, and maybe, just maybe you will earn the favour of the Red Knight, and a place here for yourself.”

The child looked towards the city. Even though he was still so young, he knew enough of what awaited him out there. Hunger, violence, and probably an early grave.

What were they offering him? Most likely the same thing... but at least here, he would be near Mama.

He knew they’d never let him go back to her house. They made that much clear when they took him from it, warning her that she’d be turned out herself if he was found there again after today. Mama had cried more than Staz had.

At least, here, he was near her still.

“Well, beast? What’s your decision?”

He wiped his nose on his sleeve, and looking at the ground he spoke the words that would shape his world for the next ten years.

“I will submit. I will serve.”

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Re: Staz’ Stanzas

Post by Rei_Jin » Sun Apr 04, 2021 2:06 pm

Entry 3 - Training; the Early Years

His body was young, but strong and agile.

His mind was young, but quick and alert.

Easily the equal of his peers, he excelled at every task they put him to, and yet they always found a way to criticise him.

“Too fast, beast! You left your classmates behind!”

The fire was stoked.

“You hit too hard, beast! You have to know how to control your strength!

The iron was prepared.

“Too slow, beast! They needed you to lead the way, are you afraid to lead?”

The child was pinned down.

“You hit too soft, beast! This enemy had to be taken down fast, and you wasted time.”

The press. The sting. The aroma of his flesh cooking, but he mustn’t cry out, mustn’t snarl and scream.

“Alright, again.”

And so he would do it again, and again, and again. Practice after practice, trial after trial, punishment after punishment.

As he grew in size and skill, by all rights he should have grown in anger and resentment as well.

And as he grew, and his body became literally covered in branded marks, his teachers tried to understand why he did not either turn on them, or flee.

It’s not that he didn’t think of those options.

Especially when he lay awake at night, sleeping on the stone floor, weeping from the pain of his punishments and the training.

It’s not that he didn’t consider revenge.

Especially when they found fault where he could see none for the hundredth, the thousandth time.

It was that when he saw her face. When he saw Mama’s face at meal time.

It was then that he knew why he would put up with it.

To be near her.

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Re: Staz’ Stanzas

Post by Rei_Jin » Sun Apr 04, 2021 2:40 pm

Entry 4 - Training; a Moment of Fate

The first milestone came.

Aged 12, he stood before eye-patch and a few others... silver-hand, bare-chest, and tattoo-face were all there. He didn’t know their real names, but he wasn’t allowed to address them, so it didn’t matter.

“Beast, come forward, and show us your kata.”

Nodding, he moved forward and bowed to them.

Right leg back to short-stance, rising block, swinging block, shift forward into rising block, reverse strike, double hand grapple and throw...

He moved, he flowed, and as he flawlessly executed the kata he had been taught over the last few months as a showpiece for his dedication and skill, something happened.

“KiiiAAII!”

His voice, amplified, caused a burst of energy that sent the dust flying.

But the child did not notice.

As he thrust his foot down, shockwaves rolled out from him, causing the ground to shake.

And the child did not notice.

And as he executed his final defensive block, a blue glow settled on his body, bolstering his defenses.

And the child did not notice.

Nor did he notice the shock on the faces of his assessors.

“STOP! What have you been teaching this child?”
“Nothing my masters, nothing other than what you approved me to teach all the novices!”
“LIES! He is using the Weave, he is CHEATING!”
“That’s impossible! We’ve taught him nothing of that, only how to channel his ki.”
“Then HOW is he doing that?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know!”

But one was there that day, who did. An old hinnish woman stepped forward from the group of faithful who had come to watch, and she raised her hand.

“Stop this bickering. He is using a rare art, known to few.”

Eye-patch looked at her incredulously, whilst the child himself had finished his kata, and was trying to make sense of what was going on around him.

“What do you mean, rare art? And who are you to speak to the council like this?”

The hinnish woman dropped her hood, and spoke clearly, silencing the room.

“I am Marie Scuttlestone, Master of the Way of the Open Hand, Pawn of the Red Knight. And he is a novice of the Way; I see it in him now.”

Gasps went up... few had heard of her, but those who had knew enough to step back from her.

Eye-patch shook his head.

“No, he is a cheat, and we will..”

She waved her hand, cutting him off mid-sentence.

“He is not, and you will do nothing except turn him over to me. Unless you think you can beat me Derrick. I mean, it shouldn’t be hard if I’m just an old woman with a cheater’s way of fighting, should it? Clearly the Red Knight would give you the victory, wouldn’t she?”

First he turned red with indignation, then pale as he realised what she was saying.

“But no-one has bested you in fifty years.”

“Mm. So which will it be? Release the child to me, or beat me in a duel so you can do as you wish with him?”

*****

Ten minutes later, Staz was leaving the monastery, following this old hinnish woman, with no idea what was happening, or why, or where this might lead to.

All he knew was that he was leaving Mama behind.

But he couldn’t cry.

He wasn’t allowed to cry.

Emotion was a weakness, and weakness was not acceptable.

Weakness had to be crushed ruthlessly, lest it cause you to fail.

So he nursed his broken heart, and walked with her, away from all that he had ever known.

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Re: Staz’ Stanzas

Post by Rei_Jin » Wed Apr 07, 2021 2:28 pm

Entry 5 - Training; watershed

The child followed her as she led him away from not just the stronghold of the Red Knight, but the only life he had ever known. His head down, his hands by his sides, he walked obediently with her.

What else was there to do?

She had stopped him being kicked out of the stronghold, but he was still leaving... and to go... where? He had no idea.

He only knew two things; he could not go back as he was, and his fate was somehow now tied up with this hinnish woman.

Once they were out of the city, she led him off the main road and down towards a quiet clearing by the edge of the Lake of Steam. Putting down her cloak and tying back her hair, she had a long drink of water, and turned to him.

“Hmm...”

As she looked him over, a child easily double her size, she seemed to be weighing something up, before she put the water down and placed her hands on her hips.

“So tell me, what’s your name?”

“Back there, they called me beast...”

“I didn’t ask what they called you. I asked you what your name is.”

“Oh. Well, in Orcish, Staz means beast, and Han means moon. Mama named me Staz Han, and told me that I was like a wolf who howled at the moon.”

“Do you know why she said that you were like that?”

“Oh... umm... she said that the wolf is lonely and he cries out to find his kin, but others only hear the hunger of the beast and so they fear it.”

“Do you know what that means?”

The child thought about it for a minute or two. The hinnish woman waited, seemingly in no rush.

“I think she means that they call me beast because they are afraid of me.”

“Come now child, why would they be afraid of you?”

With that question, the tears began to flow. Was it anger, or sadness, hate, fear? Maybe all of them together, opening the floodgates of the young half-orc’s heart.

“Because I’m a beast who can’t do anything right, and I’m only ever a hair’s breadth from slipping into the madness and cruelty of my blood.”

He broke down, sobbing, and collapsed to the ground.

The hinnish woman came up to him, and placed a hand on his shoulder, gripping it tight.

“No, you’re not. People fear what they cannot control, and they feared you because you are not what they had expected at any turn. A half-orc child of the blood of one of their own? A capable student who excelled at all he did? A novice in the secret art known as the Way of the Open Hand who has never been taught any of its hidden techniques?

Make no mistake, Staz.

They fear you ultimately not because of what you are, but because they cannot make you be what they want you to be.”

He looked up at her through red-rimmed, puffy eyes.

“But I fear that I’ll go mad and be no better than my father! What if I AM just a beast?”

She shook her head sadly.

“That is not who you are. But if you had stayed, they would have broken you, one way or another. Either you WOULD have gone mad from how they were abusing you, and you would have turned on them, and justified to them what they had done. Or you would have broken, and become nothing more than an empty husk, without hope or purpose.”

“But... but I am of orcish blood, aren’t I?” He asked.

“You are, yes. And yet, you are also of human blood, and more importantly, you have been shaped by a human heart. Your mother brought you into this world and made sure you got somewhere you would survive, and another mother took you in and loved you and raised you as her own.”

“So, what does that mean?”

“It means, young man, that you have a choice. You can take after those who treated you in such a beastly manner, and embrace the title of beast, destroying whatever gets in your way, whether friend or foe.

Or...

You can take after those who have treated you with love, respect, and kindness, and embrace the name of Staz, who is, yes, a beast, but one who is merely seeking for his kin and his place in this world. A beast who will be misunderstood by some, maybe by many, but who will be steadfast and loyal, faithful and kind, and who will bring honour to his kin and to the Red Knight.

That choice is yours.

We will camp here until daybreak for you to make your decision.

If you choose the first, then we will part forever here.”

He looked at her with curiosity.

“And if I choose the second?”

She turned her back and walked towards the water.

“If you choose the second, then I will teach you all I can. You will be my student, and I will be your master.

You have until daybreak.”

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