Disclaimer: I made this story but the HUGE plot that went with the game? If that was mine I would have lots of money to buy video-games.
Authors Note: This is completely AU. Reason number one, Petrice is a man. Reason number two, Donnic and Petrice had no relations to one another. Reason number three, not set in medieval area. Have fun reading.
A crippled old man in a brown, worn shirt, ball cap, work jeans and boots was picking through the stone rubble with his gloves on. It had been ten years since the disaster and every Sunday the same old man would scavenge were the old church had once been. He picked at it for a time before moving on. It had been wet and cold just like that day so it was no surprise when rain started to fall. As the homeless man looked towards the sky he began to remember one of the many stories that had happened that day...
People clamoured out of the archway doors of the old church to get ahead of the horrendous rain. It was just reaching the end of Sunday Mass and Father Edmond Petrice turned around to start packing up the bibles and straightening the pamphlets. He was the only person left in the church. Everyone else had left or was out sick from the horrible weather so Mass had been small this week. For the last few weeks the weather had consisted of rain, hail and high winds. There had been warnings of possible tornadoes in the area. Nothing had happened yet but that didn't stop people from wanting to pray all the more.
Father Petrice bent down and began tidying up the pews and collecting the forgotten clothes. There were always some left, most of it was children's clothing that parents forgot to check for. But this day it had all been grown men's. Today there was a ball-cap, a brown t-shirt with some mud on it and a pair of ripped jeans. Some men's work gloves and work boots from the mines were also there. As the Father straitened up, his back cracked and he mumbled to himself.
"I'm getting much too old for this. Maybe I should call one of the Sisters from the neighbouring church." He stated as the clutched as his aching back.
He had been at this church almost all of his life. When he had been younger, he had lived with his parents but they had died in a twister many years ago. He had been shipped off to the orphanage, when Father Donnic had taken him. This had been his home for over fifty years and he wouldn't give it up for the world.
Just as Father Petrice was about to step outside the wind became harsh. He looked out the stain-glass window to look at the sky. It was dark and grey but had stopped raining. He glanced down to look out at the plains around the church that held the homes of his neighbours.
"Oh my Lord," the Father covered his mouth with his hand as he registered what he was seeing outside.
It was a whirlwind. It was large and dark, the Father had never seen something so large in his lifetime. He watched, frozen in place, as it picked up houses and cars that had once been unmoving. He knew that he should run but he couldn't. He had been in this church for most of his life, it had been his home and his shelter and he was going to stay there until he died. The tornado grew closer and closer but Father Petrice stayed put.
Suddenly it was as if someone had slapped him across the face. He watched as his house was ripped up out of the ground and disintegrated into nothing but bricks and wood. As the tornado closed its distance between itself and the church Father Petrice began to shake. He was frozen solid with fear.
Then the stone was ripped away from the base of the church and its towers and Father Petrice was pulled up abruptly and sent flying into the heart of the tornado. Things scratched at his face and shards of medal became imbedded into his flesh. Stone crushed his ribs and hands. He couldn't think and all he could feel was the burn in his throat as he screamed. Dust clouded his vision and stung his eyes, what little he could see was other people who had been sucked up and rubble from buildings.
Just as soon as he had been thrown into the tornado's grasp he was thrown out again. His spine hit what was left of what had once been his beloved church. Blood caked his face and hands but he was still breathing. Father Petrice gave a moan as he looked around at everything around him. The grand bells where thrown all around and a tractor from one of the farms was in pieces. Its wheels were scattered all around the rubble and its scoop was dented on one side several feet from where the main body of the tractor lay. The fence that had once been beside the house next to the church was wrapped up as if a crumpled ball of paper.
Father Petrice turned his head to look at where his church had once been. Now all that was left was the south tower and the back stairs. A tear ran down his face as he realised that all he had ever owned had been inside. Every goal he had ever had was within that church. He had nothing now, no family to go to, he would have went there when his parents had died. And his mentor, Father Donnic, had passed away two months previous. He knew no one outside of the small town that he had lived in so travelling was almost out of the question.
As Father Petrice was contemplating what to do, it started to rain again. His eyes tried to focus on what was around him. His face twitching as rain landed on it. What was he going to do? What was there to do...?
The homeless man turned back to his scavenging with the up most importance even if he wasn't really concentrating. Once he was done he walked back towards the south side of town. As he passed the last tower still standing he looked up but soon continued on his way. He passed a small statue that had been made shortly after the tornado. The man looked down and read until he came to his name.
Father E. Petrice...