FSE

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AN UNKINDLY WELCOME

CH 1

"Alms...alms for the poor." A man calls out to the busy street from a dark and lonely alley. His arm is stretched out, palm up, with a sad and hungry look in his eyes as he pulls his raggedy cloak a little tighter around his body in attempts to stave off the cold. Most of his form is hidden by the shadows of the alley so that nobody can really tell exactly what he looks like, as well as the cloak that is pulled a little far over his face. The man sees a person walking past his alley and sees by his outfit that he is a wealthy merchant, so quickly he slinks a little more out of the alley and pulls at the hem of the man's dress cloths. "Please sir, I haven't eaten in days. Could you spare a coin so that I may eat today?" He asks in a pleading way.

The young wealthy merchant feels sorry for the poor fellow, but just for an instant the wind catches the beggars hood and lifts it a little to reveal some of what the beggar looks like. It is all within that moment that the merchant sees who it is under the cloak and fear and horror quickly spreads across his face. No words are spoken and the merchants hand has frozen just mere inches from his coin purse, but a yell escapes the merchant and he goes running and screaming down the street in fear of what he'd seen under the beggar's cloak. Tears begin to tug at the beggars eyes as he watches as the wealthy merchant quickly runs down the street, screaming someone's name that he doesn't know.

It is the same wherever he goes. Someone takes one look at him and will see a hungry/pathetic beggar, but if they see his face...they run off screaming that name. 'Who is this Ty Lung?' He asks himself as he slinks away once more into the alley, so that only his arm reaches out with his palm up. "Alms...alms for the poor."

The day has come to a close and the weather has turned bitterly cold. Fearing a freeze the beggar pulls himself up on his staff and begins to slink away to find his shelter for the night. Along his travels he comes across and open archway and stops as a delicious smell begins to blow through the archway and makes his stomach growl. How he wishes that he could go inside and eat whatever it is that makes his stomach remind himself of the last time that he'd eaten. It is just a half step towards the archway, but only that as the proprietor quickly is there in his path, brandishing a broom. "Please...all I want is just is something to eat. Even scraps will do." He begs with pleading eyes but receives only that of the end of broom. "You will receive nothing here you monster!" The owner yells as he quickly swings down his broom to smack the beggar repeatedly upon the head, quickly chasing him off.

Finally the beggar has reached safety but now is too weak to even remain standing. Slowly he lowers his form down to that of the floor of the old forgotten home and curls up in a tight ball and cries. "Why is it that everyone hates me? What is it that I have done to receive such malice?" A few tears leak down his furry face as he holds out a hand and turns it palms up. "Though more importantly...who am I?"

The days seem to flow into one another, and never really seem to change. Some days he is lucky, others, he is beaten by the people for being something he knows little of. They cry out a name that he doesn't know and even throw things at him that pelt him with food and stones. Though every night he dreams, dreams of a time that he doesn't know if it's a dream or maybe something more. He dreams of himself, a shop, and plants...so many plants. He is happy in his dream and many who come into the place where he is are always wearing a smile and seem happy to see him. Then the dream drastically changes, many men come into the place, demand something of him...to which he denies them, then something hits him in the face. At that moment he awakens, dazed and a little confused as the dream swiftly leaves him, almost as pleasantly as it'd come.

The days have grown colder and the beggar is only able to come out for a short time before the weather will drive him to seek shelter early. He knows that he must beg more desperately in hopes that he might get a coin or two. It is almost time to retreat for the day, as he can now see a few flakes of snow begin to fall, but is lucky this day. Behind the wonderfully smelling noddle shop he is stopped by a kindly looking old duck. "Why is it that I see you every day begging by my shop?" He asks in such a way as if he doesn't really know.

"Because your food smells so good that I just can't stay away." The beggar answers honestly. "I have a few coins today. Might I partake of you to give me your scraps for these mere coins?" He reaches into his mismatched colored cloth pouch and pulls out a few mere coins that would not even pay for the crust of a piece of bread. The old man look on him with a bit of fright, but something else passes past his face and the beggar knows that he just might eat today. The old man disappears into his shop and returns with a sack of something.

"It isn't much, but that of my scraps. So I hope that this will do for you." He says as he smiles up at the beggar.

Tears begin to fall down the beggars face as he can't believe his eyes. Ever so slowly, as hoping that this isn't some kind of dream, he reaches out with his arm covered by that of his filthy cloak and accepts the offering. "Bless you sir, bless you." He says as he can't keep the sobbing out of his voice. Slowly opening the sack he looks within and sees that it's not scraps as the old man had said, but a whole loaf of bread and many other finely baked things. Looking up at the old man the beggar's lips tremble at the godly gift this old man has given him. Though the sack may be full of only common things, the beggar thinks of them as that of ambrosia (Food of the gods). Sniffling a few times he wants to pick up the old man and hug him, but knows that that will only frighten him, so bows low and thanks him once more before quickly scampering off to eat the offering. Never before has he eaten so well. Each bite is taken with the utmost care and savored to not be wasted with haste to satisfy his hunger. Though it may be only a few simple things, he will eat them as if they came off the emperors table itself and never forget that old man's kindness that day.

The next day he is not so lucky. It seems that many of the villagers have become fed up with him and his constant begging and have gathered at his usual spot. Many are brandishing simple items, brooms, sticks, and the like and are no doubt up to removing him from the town by force if need be. How many times has been kicked out of a town for this reason, he doesn't recall. 'I have done nothing to these people, yet still they shun and hurt me.' He thinks to himself before he quickly slinks back into the shadows to hide for the day. Though just as he turns around he notices that something dart away at the far end of the alley. 'Now what could that have been?"

As the beggar moves into the town today he notices that not a single person is moving about today. This confuses the beggar as he has never seen the town look as empty as this. At least by this time the town would be a-buzz with activity as people would go about their usual chores and did as they normally pleased, but today there is nothing. The streets are deserted, all the shops and windows are closed and barred, and a feeling of something wrong with it all can't be shaken from his bones. Even walking over to the old man's back door he knocks to hope of finding some answers, but no-one comes to respond to his knocking. It is only later that day that he realizes what it all means.

A large group of thugs begins to move into the town at the far side of town entrance. Many are made up of wolves and other such tough looking brutes that look to have an air about them that would say that these people are up to no good. At the forefront of the group is what appears to be some kind of Boar and has an air of superiority about him. 'He must be the leader if not the most violent member of them due to all the scars upon his face.' The beggar thinks to himself. 'Could the villagers have known about this group coming?'

The group stops only a short way into town and they begin to look about. They seemed almost pleased about something as their mouths turn up in smiles, and just as swiftly as they'd entered into the town they quickly disperse into it at the wave of the boars arm. Wherever they go, screams as short to follow, as they break in doors and quickly enter the homes of the town's inhabitants. Fear begins to wrack him as he watches all of this happen, but he can't help but feel ashamed at just standing by and watching all this happen. 'Though what can I do? I am not strong like others, I have barely eaten enough to keep up what little strength I have, and why should I help those that shun and hurt me.' But somewhere deep down his conscious is getting the better of him.

It is when he sees a few of the thugs move into the kindly old person's home that had so kindly given him the sack of baked goods, that he finally loses his reluctance to stand by and watch. Though he is still weak, he moves into the door frame of the kind old duck's noodle shop and looks about. The whole place is in shambles and looks as if a strong breeze turned everything upside down. Tables and chairs lay broken on the ground while all the pots and pans of the place are scattered about. There are only three of the thugs in the place, but he can see a mean/scared looking badger has the old duck held aloft by the throat.

"And what do we have here? A one person rescue party?" Says the badger as he looks the beggar up and down. A small chuckle begins in his throat that is quickly followed by a howling laughter with his head thrown back, which is quickly followed by the others that have broken into the noodle shop. After a few moments one of the group's members separates himself from the others and walks over and stands before the beggar.

"Aw man, this guy reeks. When was the last time that you bathed?" He asks as he reaches up to his nose and pinches the bridge of it in hopes of staving off any more of the awful stench. Only a moment later the thug grabs the beggar by his raggedy cloak and throws him to the ground. He hits the floor hard and for a moment his whole world spins, while somewhere in the back of his mind he begins to rethink the whole brilliance behind coming in here. A swift kick to somewhere in the middle drives the breath out of the beggar.

The beggar is gasping for breath as he is once again grabbed by his cloak, but this time he is lifted upright and held aloft by cloak. Unlike the old duck, the beggar is much bigger and is only able to be stood upright. Through teary eyes the beggar looks down at his assailant and can see him slowly pull back his right fist to deliver a blow that will probably send him to unconsciousness. "Please don't hurt him." The beggar pleads in a ragged voice as he looks over to the owner of the shop, but his pleas fall upon deaf ears as well as laughter. Though as he turns back to look at the person who is holding him up he sees the punch coming.

Not wanting to be on the receiving end of the fist, he brings up his own fist, only to open it a second later and blow the contents, which looked like some kind of fine red dust, into the guys face. The thug screams out in pain as the red dust quickly dries the eyes out and irritates them to no end. The thug releases the beggar a second later to have the beggar crumple to the ground, as if his legs can't support him, then quickly go running about the room screaming for water. His scream are only short lived as he runs about, like a chicken with its head cut off, and slams head first into that of a wall, quickly rendering him unconscious.

Enraged at what happened to their comrades, the others of the group quickly advance on that of the beggar, only to be met with another cloud of black and gray like dust that the beggar has blown up at them. The cloud of the dust quickly settles over the group and it isn't long before the whole group is now sneezing up a storm. The beggar covers over his face for a little bit as he scoots away from the falling dust, then is stopped as his back hits something. Ever so slowly the beggar twists his head and sees the form of the leader of the thugs that'd held up the old duck.

The leader is now brandishing some kind of dagger and he can see that he's none too happy with the treatment his underlings. "You are going to pay for that!" A growl escapes his lips as he then begins to bring down the dagger to plunge it into somewhere it shouldn't belong. Though as time begins to slow and thoughts of what might await the poor beggar when he crosses over to the afterlife, he is shocked when nothing happens.

Uncurling from his ball that he'd subconsciously curled himself into, he looks up to see a furry hand has grabbed the knife wielders wrist. Though he wants to follow the furry arm that just saved his life, something bubbles up within him and he begins a coughing fit right there on the floor. He's had coughing fits before but this one, this one was much deeper and felt something liquid come up with the last cough. Slowly turning his head he can see that there is something red on the floor and knows that something isn't right within his insides. He beings to shake in fear now, but is quickly brought back to the here and now when a thump is heard and his face is met with that of the unconscious thugs leader.

With a swift jerking like motion, he is once again grabbed by his raggedy cloak, only this time instead of him being stood up, he's held slightly over his legs. His vision is starting to go now and he knows that something inside him is broken, but through all the haze of his condition he hears a voice yelling at him, though for the life of him he can't make out a single word and the next moment unconsciousness claims him.