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earthenkin) wrote2015-01-30 11:25 pm
earthenkin) wrote2015-01-30 11:25 pm
(no subject)
Memory 02 / Significant Negative
The day the collectors got a taste of their own medicine.
Isabel's Cats-Only Game, Day 123
It is almost three in the morning when a loud knock wakes you up, sending you rolling to the dirt floor with a crash. Your mother, once asleep in the bed next to you, immediately leaps from the bed and begins pulling on a dress -- her finest, you realize as you pick yourself up off of the ground, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.
"It's the collectors, spirits damn them," your mother mumbles under her breath as she stumbles into her shoes and reaches for the only luxury item she kept in your home: a beautiful ivory comb, kept in a box by the bedside. "Put-- put on something nice, and greet them. I will show them to the storehouse."
"They're early," you complain. You know that the grain collectors at the door are nearly a week earlier than expected. A whole week that could have been spent gathering more grain to give to them, and the numbers quickly add up in your head as you pull on trousers and grab the staff that's sitting by the bed -- your constant companion, warm and familiar against your skin.
Your mother takes her own staff in her hands and nods, grimly. "I know. And we haven't enough, but they will have to be made to realize that. Just...stall them while I comb my hair."
You throw on the cleanest shirt you can find from your precious few articles of clothing and rush to open the door. The men standing outside are very tall, and dressed nicer than anyone you can remember seeing in your life. Of course, the men come from the City that floats above -- and you remind yourself carefully, that they are dangerous as well as foreign.
"Ah yes, is this the home of (name here) and Elena?"
"It is," you reply stiffly, watching the man push his overly large glasses up his nose as he consults a clipboard. The other men look positively bored, checking their pocketwatches and dabbing at their foreheads with handkerchiefs, as if it were three in the afternoon instead of the morning.
"Well, it appears that you are one month behind in your collections, miss. If you'd care to show us to where we can receive the delivery, we are well-equipped to receive it now. Promptly." When you don't move from the door, stunned that they would lie about your previously stellar record on collection deadlines, the man sighs and grabs your free hand, dragging you through the door. "Now!"
"Get off of me!" You yank your hand away and feel your anger seeping into the dirt beneath you, the very earth becoming angry at these men hurting you. Your mother comes running to the door, placing a hand on your shoulder, calming you with her own soothing magic and the gentle touch of her palm.
"Sirs, let me show you the storehouse." She leaves you to compose yourself as she takes them towards your barn. When you finally regain your temper, you rejoin them -- but obviously, the men were as angered by your display as you were by their roughness. You round the corner and spot them just as the man with the glasses smacks your mother across the face, sending her to the ground in surprise.
"Don't lie to me!" He yells at her, and the other men nod, like they were incapable of independent thought, even laughing a little at your mother as she stands up again. "You were late last month and now you have the audacity to tell me that you don't have nearly enough grain for this month's shipment, either? You people claim to be "magic," but can't find the strength to produce what you owe us. You're all useless, in my opinion."
"Sir, please-- it's just a week early. The earth can only provide so much--" your mother tries to explain, but he cuts her off.
"No, this is the final time. From our records you have been consistently late, or unable to pay. We will be reclaiming this land immediately, and providing it to another family -- one with more children, perhaps, as you seem to have ignored our orders for you to produce a male heir."
"My husband died--"
"And that is no excuse! Now, stand aside. We will take what grain you have here and return in--" but he doesn't get to finish his sentence, because all of the anger you felt welling inside of you, all of the years of resentment you have had for these people, these men, comes to light when he shoves your mother's shoulder again.
You have never been a very patient person, or a very...controlled person. And the earth responds to your anger, but this time you allow it to do so, feeling the earth crack and crumble beneath your feet as you summon an earthquake with your anger. Your mother calls for you to stop, but you can barely hear her -- so intent are you on ridding these people from your land. The men stumble back as you walk towards them, cracks appearing in the earth beneath their feet.
"Leave," you tell them angrily. Your mother places another calming hand on your shoulder, but it does no good now; as calm as she can make you, you've stirred up too much anger in the earth beneath you now for it to calm you completely. "Leave, or I will make you regret stepping foot on our land to begin with."
"No! We will not leave until we have what we came for!" The man with the glasses was the only one who refused to shy away, gripping the clipboard to his chest as if looking for something to hold onto.
"Fine." You glance at your mother and she steps back, knowing she's unable to stop you from what happens next. You force all of your magic into the earth through your staff, slamming the point of it into the ground. You felt the earth open all at once, and without looking up could hear the scream of the man with the clipboard as he tumbled feet-first into a gaping chasm, the earth closing around him. You can sense that he's still alive down there -- but barely. And probably not for long.
When you look up, you feel exhausted as the last of your anger is spent. The other men have run away, and your mother is trembling as she stares at the spot where the man once stood, now only a small crack in the ground.
"What have you done?" She asks you tearfully -- though you notice, she isn't afraid of you. You were half worried she would run screaming from the sight of you.
"He hurt you," you respond simply. "I am tired of these men coming, and hurting you, and taking our things." And you walk back towards the house, gripping your staff tightly in your hand, staring at the markings on it as if to discern some meaning from them. In the background, you can hear your mother begin to run towards the village, her feet pounding against the earth. You stand still and listen to her footsteps long after she's out of earshot, the earth making them ring in your ears as you realize that this was only the beginning of a million new problems for yourself.
Effects:
+100000 AIN'T NO ONE HURT MY MOM >:C
-100000 like of these dudes
- An understanding that this is definitely not the first time something like this has happened. All of the anger she feels is the product of a long resentment, and that's easily recognizable.
- Wow I just killed a dude
- Wow I am badass as I imagined but i sure did probably kill a dude?
- uh
- uhhhhhh
- i have anger management problems
The day the collectors got a taste of their own medicine.
Isabel's Cats-Only Game, Day 123
It is almost three in the morning when a loud knock wakes you up, sending you rolling to the dirt floor with a crash. Your mother, once asleep in the bed next to you, immediately leaps from the bed and begins pulling on a dress -- her finest, you realize as you pick yourself up off of the ground, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.
"It's the collectors, spirits damn them," your mother mumbles under her breath as she stumbles into her shoes and reaches for the only luxury item she kept in your home: a beautiful ivory comb, kept in a box by the bedside. "Put-- put on something nice, and greet them. I will show them to the storehouse."
"They're early," you complain. You know that the grain collectors at the door are nearly a week earlier than expected. A whole week that could have been spent gathering more grain to give to them, and the numbers quickly add up in your head as you pull on trousers and grab the staff that's sitting by the bed -- your constant companion, warm and familiar against your skin.
Your mother takes her own staff in her hands and nods, grimly. "I know. And we haven't enough, but they will have to be made to realize that. Just...stall them while I comb my hair."
You throw on the cleanest shirt you can find from your precious few articles of clothing and rush to open the door. The men standing outside are very tall, and dressed nicer than anyone you can remember seeing in your life. Of course, the men come from the City that floats above -- and you remind yourself carefully, that they are dangerous as well as foreign.
"Ah yes, is this the home of (name here) and Elena?"
"It is," you reply stiffly, watching the man push his overly large glasses up his nose as he consults a clipboard. The other men look positively bored, checking their pocketwatches and dabbing at their foreheads with handkerchiefs, as if it were three in the afternoon instead of the morning.
"Well, it appears that you are one month behind in your collections, miss. If you'd care to show us to where we can receive the delivery, we are well-equipped to receive it now. Promptly." When you don't move from the door, stunned that they would lie about your previously stellar record on collection deadlines, the man sighs and grabs your free hand, dragging you through the door. "Now!"
"Get off of me!" You yank your hand away and feel your anger seeping into the dirt beneath you, the very earth becoming angry at these men hurting you. Your mother comes running to the door, placing a hand on your shoulder, calming you with her own soothing magic and the gentle touch of her palm.
"Sirs, let me show you the storehouse." She leaves you to compose yourself as she takes them towards your barn. When you finally regain your temper, you rejoin them -- but obviously, the men were as angered by your display as you were by their roughness. You round the corner and spot them just as the man with the glasses smacks your mother across the face, sending her to the ground in surprise.
"Don't lie to me!" He yells at her, and the other men nod, like they were incapable of independent thought, even laughing a little at your mother as she stands up again. "You were late last month and now you have the audacity to tell me that you don't have nearly enough grain for this month's shipment, either? You people claim to be "magic," but can't find the strength to produce what you owe us. You're all useless, in my opinion."
"Sir, please-- it's just a week early. The earth can only provide so much--" your mother tries to explain, but he cuts her off.
"No, this is the final time. From our records you have been consistently late, or unable to pay. We will be reclaiming this land immediately, and providing it to another family -- one with more children, perhaps, as you seem to have ignored our orders for you to produce a male heir."
"My husband died--"
"And that is no excuse! Now, stand aside. We will take what grain you have here and return in--" but he doesn't get to finish his sentence, because all of the anger you felt welling inside of you, all of the years of resentment you have had for these people, these men, comes to light when he shoves your mother's shoulder again.
You have never been a very patient person, or a very...controlled person. And the earth responds to your anger, but this time you allow it to do so, feeling the earth crack and crumble beneath your feet as you summon an earthquake with your anger. Your mother calls for you to stop, but you can barely hear her -- so intent are you on ridding these people from your land. The men stumble back as you walk towards them, cracks appearing in the earth beneath their feet.
"Leave," you tell them angrily. Your mother places another calming hand on your shoulder, but it does no good now; as calm as she can make you, you've stirred up too much anger in the earth beneath you now for it to calm you completely. "Leave, or I will make you regret stepping foot on our land to begin with."
"No! We will not leave until we have what we came for!" The man with the glasses was the only one who refused to shy away, gripping the clipboard to his chest as if looking for something to hold onto.
"Fine." You glance at your mother and she steps back, knowing she's unable to stop you from what happens next. You force all of your magic into the earth through your staff, slamming the point of it into the ground. You felt the earth open all at once, and without looking up could hear the scream of the man with the clipboard as he tumbled feet-first into a gaping chasm, the earth closing around him. You can sense that he's still alive down there -- but barely. And probably not for long.
When you look up, you feel exhausted as the last of your anger is spent. The other men have run away, and your mother is trembling as she stares at the spot where the man once stood, now only a small crack in the ground.
"What have you done?" She asks you tearfully -- though you notice, she isn't afraid of you. You were half worried she would run screaming from the sight of you.
"He hurt you," you respond simply. "I am tired of these men coming, and hurting you, and taking our things." And you walk back towards the house, gripping your staff tightly in your hand, staring at the markings on it as if to discern some meaning from them. In the background, you can hear your mother begin to run towards the village, her feet pounding against the earth. You stand still and listen to her footsteps long after she's out of earshot, the earth making them ring in your ears as you realize that this was only the beginning of a million new problems for yourself.
Effects:
+100000 AIN'T NO ONE HURT MY MOM >:C
-100000 like of these dudes
- An understanding that this is definitely not the first time something like this has happened. All of the anger she feels is the product of a long resentment, and that's easily recognizable.
- Wow I just killed a dude
- Wow I am badass as I imagined but i sure did probably kill a dude?
- uh
- uhhhhhh
- i have anger management problems