РОЛЕВАЯ ИГРА

Prelude

He couldnt help but ponder the chain of events that lead him to this time and place. It may have been days or merely hours that he had spent talking to her, but his perception couldnt be trusted. To his mind it all felt like a whirling vortex of feelings and moments, conversations and reactions mixing together in such a way that trying to look back to piece it together just made his head spin. There was only one overpowering certainty that kept springing to the forefront of his mind: He really liked this girl.

He shook his head slightly as his consciousness focused back on reality. He wasnt sure where she was leading him but whenever his legs reflected his uncertainty she would firmly tug his arm forcing him to keep up. Somewhere in the distance growing slightly fainter with each step he could hear laughter, music, the booming and crackling of hommins enjoying the brightly coloured fireworks they had just purchased.

His palm was starting to sweat. It came as a small shock to realise that he was actually nervous. He had never really fancied himself as a particularly brave fyros, but timidity was not exactly a common racial trait. He could keep his head in the face of bandits, carnivores and kitins but this young tryker girl had his heart racing and his stomach tied in knots. His knees felt weak but her small hand had a surpisingly strong grip on his as she kept running and pulling him behind her. He just tried to ignore the uncomfortable feelings and think about their footsteps on the boardwalk an hoping to steady his heartbeat he tried to drown everything else out.

To some degree of irony, they slowed almost to a stop. He looked up to see they were walking to a door. She turned to face him, still holding his hand tightly. She stared into his eyes and smiled sweetly. He found that he couldnt look away as she stepped backwards and leaned against the wall. Her eyes sparkled in the sunlight reflected off the calm blue water, and streaks of gold he had never noticed before glistened in her long brown hair. At that moment he considered kissing her but her voice cut that thought short.

"My appartment" she said, her smile turning somewhat coy. Her eyes dropped down and to the right a little as she asked "Would you like to come in and see?". He opened his mouth to answer but before he could she had already opened the door and was pulling him through. As they entered he glanced around the room. It seemed like a typical tryker appartment to him, although he had not spent much time in them. There were mats of varied styles on the floor. Through the beautiful round windows he could see schools of brightly coloured fish. On the nightstand a small statue of Jena reflecting a religious upbringing. His mind began to wander a little as his eyes moved to her bed.

He returned his focus to her. She stood before him staring into his eyes. As he took a step forward her head tilted up a little to keep eye contact and he put his hand on her waiste. She ran her hands up his arms and the touch of her fingers on his warm fyros skin was almost electric. As he pulled her body against his he could feel her heartbeat was racing in synchronicity to his. He leaned down and as his lips met with hers it was like an indescribable explosion of thoughts and feelings that made that moment last for eternity. They locked their arms around each other in a tight embrace and kissed passionately. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as the space between his racing heartbeats seemed endless. She broke away from the kiss with a sharp intake of breath and held her cheek against his.

"We dont have much time" She whispered almost gasping to catch her breath. She pressed her head into his shoulder and turned her eyes to the floor. "My boyfriend is waiting for me."

He pulled away from her a little to see her face. "Do you really want to be there with him?" He put his hand on her cheek and tilted her head up a little until her eyes once again met his. "Or do you want to be here with me?" She bit her lip a little and her eyes betrayed her confusion in the moment before she closed them. She placed her hands on his chest, and dug her fingers into him a little in frustration before wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and pulling him down to kiss him once more. He closed his eyes and savoured the sweet taste of her lips and the feeling of her perfect little body against his. He was so entranced by that moment that as she slipped out of his arms he almost didnt hear her footsteps heading to the door. When he tentatively opened his eyes again she was gone. As he left the appartment to follow, he could here a faint voice in the distance. "Could the contestants for Miss Atys please make your way to Fairmarket Fork."

Chapter One

Altho he was caught off guard, the reason for the attack was no mystery. Looking down at his left side he can see the grip of the tekorn-jen dagger. He had been reckless, there was no denying this fact. After what seems an eternity, blood starts to seep from the wound. He did not need to look at the distinctive markings to know it was a work of his own craftsmanship. No, this came as no surprise at all. The steady, slow footsteps of his would-be assassin calmly walking away register in the back of his mind. He falls to his knees. The few people scattered about the courtyard barely notice. On as festive a night as tonight the sight of a fyros man falling over is not uncommon. He puts his open palms in front of his eyes. There is a lot of blood now. He clenches his jaw tightly and grunts as he pulls the dagger from his side, dropping it instantly. There is a sense of urgency. He needs to warn her. She is in danger because of his carelessness. His panic is cut short by the clank of the dagger hitting the floor. This time people react. The chatter and laughter has stopped. He can feel several sets of eyes on him as he falls forward onto his hands. There is a long silent pause as the realisation dawns that there is a man injured. A voice he doesnt recognise cries out for help. He can fainly hear the sharp footsteps of those who are sober running to his side. He looks up and through blurry eyes can only make out a few shadowy silhouettes leaning over him. He wants to get up, but there is no strength left in his body. He cant move. He tries to speak but nothing comes out. He strains to at least hear the excited words but it is only noise to him. Then finally, a wave of blackness washes over him, taking feeling, thought and consciousness away.

He opens his eyes. It is daylight, tho he has no clear idea of what day it is. The room starts to spin and he closes his eyes again to steady it. After a while he tries again. One eyelid at a time. The light hurts a little, as if they had not been exposed to it for a while. He tries to think... how long has he been asleep? He tries to turn his head to take in the surroundings, and starts to feel a pounding headache that may or may not have been there a moment ago. What is this place? He is lying in a room. From the curve and the tree bark texture the walls seem distinctively matis. How did he get here? The pounding in his head is getting worse... it must be affecting his thoughts. In what he decides is at very least an error in judgement, he attempts to sit up and falls back onto the bed with a thud. He can hear a stirring in the next room. Someone knows he is awake. Is it his host? He tries to conjure the names of his closest matis friends from his memory but draws a blank. His heart starts to beat faster as a realisation dawns: Something is missing.

The door opens, tho he cant quite bring himself to try to move again to see who opened it. He opens his mouth to say something but stops. He isnt sure how to phrase what he wants to say. It just feels strange to put the question into words. He can hear someone walking from the door to the bed as he smacks his dry lips. "Dont try to talk yet, you have been out for a long time." The voice coming from behind him isnt familiar but he knew it wouldnt be. He decides the man is definately matis by the tone. Spoken clearly, almost musical as most matis sound. They pride themselves on their beauty. In their crafts, their appearance, even their voices everything must be beautiful.

He can hear the footsteps of his host walking around the bed and looks up to see his face as he moves into view. He is almost disappointed as there is not hint of recognition. The man before him kneels down and puts a cup to his lips. Gratefully, he tilts his head back to drink. He is thirsty. As the cup is taken away the matis speaks again. "Not too much yet, you will be ill. Small sips."

He clears his throat and tries to prop himself up. "Careful" the matis says, "you need time to build your strenght." The matis helps him to sit up a little then takes a step back. "Now my friend, what are you trying to say?".

He thinks carefully about what he wants to ask. There doesnt seem to be a good way to put the question so he just comes out with it. "Who am I?"