AN- Heh, you've found my newest work! Here's a Rayman fanfiction based around the rise, fall and redemption of Reflux. This is a philosophical fanfic that contradicts the Rayman storyline, so don't read it if that's not what you like.
Chapter 1: The Earliest Days
The old Knaaren sitting around the fire looked at the two Knaaren babies on his lap. One of them was sucking his finger, while the other one snuggled her dolly. He stared lovingly at the two. They were his only frequent visitors, and he loved them very much. The boy then stuck up his head.
"Unkie, can you tell us a story?" He asked with a sad puppy dog look in his eyes.
"Pweeeese?" The girl asked, looking even more pleadingly.
"I don't know," the old man stared reprovingly at the children, trying to hide a smile, "you've been very naughty today. I should just send you home without a story!" He relented a little as the two pretended to cry. "Oh, alright. Just a small one."
"Yay!" The children yelled.
"This story is about a mysterious Knaaren warrior from the past. Some consider him a great hero. Others consider him to be a terrible traitor and blackguard. I… well; I have my own opinions about him. Here is his story…"
*******
It was a cold night in the Desert of the Knaaren. Inside of one of the chambers, a mother held her newborn child in a blanket. She was a small, frail woman with light hair and blue eyes. Her husband, a large, kindly eyed Knaaren, beamed proudly at his new son.
"He's sleeping, isn't he?" He asked.
"Yes. Isn't he adorable?" His wife sighed.
He nodded. "He's a hardy little tike. All this cold and not one whimper! This one is a child after my own heart!"
The mother turned to her husband. "What should we name him? I can't think of a name for our son."
"Well, the shaman is coming soon." The man replied. "He should give us a name for him."
The mother sighed, sitting down on a bed. It was a long, hard winter for her. Her husband had worked extra hard to provide for them in her condition, but now her son was born. Suddenly, she heard soft, rythmattic footsteps coming towards their door. She opened the door and bowed respectively at the figure at the door.
"Good evening, honored shaman." She told him courteously. The figure that trudged towards the door was extremely old; he was said to be over 110 years of age. He could only walk with a cane made out of bone, and even so his steps were labored. His grizzled form was protected from the elements by a brown cloak that was made out of bird feathers. The strangest thing about him, however, was his eyes. They were milky white and always stared straight ahead in the gaze of blindness. Despite being blind, however, he could find his way around better than most people with sight.
"Good day, my friends." The shaman rasped. "I congratulate you on the arrival of your son."
"Honored shaman," the man said respectfully, "can you see into the cloudy haze of the future and give us a glimpse of our son's achievements in his life?"
The shaman closed his eyes, placing his cane on the ground. He slipped into a trance in a few seconds, chanting a strange prophecy.
"I see many things and years ahead of me. A colossus rises from the sands and falls to shame. A trust is broken. The wounded Giant strikes out, knowing not what he does. I sense a clouded future ahead of your son. Rast, Son of Destiny, he will be!" Saying this, the shaman picked up the cane, striding out of the door, leaving the parents to wonder at the shaman's cryptic prediction.
*******
There are some things that you must understand about Knaaren society to be able to relate to this story. The Knaaren were an ancient race, inhabiting the surface of the desert thousands of years ago. Then, S'thask nomad lizards came and drove them into the vast catacombs beneath the desert. There they reorganized themselves, setting up a militaristic society of warriors. The Knaaren trained their children in military duties from an early age and encouraged them to challenge other Knaaren in contests of strength. Lead by powerful warrior kings, the Knaaren eventually regained parts of the surface, and are fighting against the S'thask to this very day.
The Knaaren are ruled by warrior kings, born into the royal family of the Knaaren. These kings are always advised by a shaman, who tells the future and gives prophecies to those who need them. Several generals are also appointed to help the king fight against foes and enforce the laws of the Knaaren. It was under this background that young Rast grew up.
*******
"I win!"
Rast was lying on the ground, glaring up at the Knaaren who had beaten him in a tussle. She was a large girl for her age, eight years old like he was, with short blond hair. Both children were wearing tattered brown tunics and Headbands She grinned at him.
"Ready to admit that I'm stronger than you?"
"Aww, you just got lucky, Laureta!" Rast grumbled. "I almost won!"
"Almost doesn't count!" Laureta yelled at him. "Girls are stronger than boys are!"
"No way!" He grumbled, rising up from the ground. "I'm much stronger than you and you know it!"
"Don't get so grumpy, Rast!" She told him. "You're such a poor sport! Well, I guess you didn't do so badly after all."
"Well, alright. You fought pretty well yourself." He admitted reluctantly. This routine went on every time they fought, although victors changed frequently. Rast and Laureta were actually the best of friends, although the casual observer couldn't tell from their fighting. Suddenly, a venerable Knaaren came up to see Rast.
"Good morning, young Rast." The shaman told him. "Good morning, Laureta. In the middle of a tussle, were we?"
"Yeah!" She told the old one excitedly. "I beat Rast so badly…"
"She was lucky!" Rast grumbled.
The shaman smiled. "Well, whatever happened, I'm afraid that I must interrupt your play. May I speak to Rast? I need him to lead me to my chamber."
"Alright!" Rast said, picking up the shaman's hand and guiding him along. He shook his head as they got out of hearing distance. "Lead you? You know your way around here better than I do, you old faker!"
"I know." The shaman smiled. "Rast, you're growing into a great young warrior."
"Thank you, sir!" Rast said blushing.
"You're welcome." He replied. Suddenly, his demeanor turned serious. "Rast, do you know why that is your name?"
"Nope." He said. "Not a clue."
"You have an interesting future ahead of you, young one." He explained. "You will do many great things. But you will also have a clouded future."
"What do you mean?" Rast asked, puzzled.
"I'm not too certain." The shaman said. "I can't see that far ahead."
Rast instinctively knew the shaman was lying, but didn't say anything. "Here you are, sir!" He said, taking him to his chamber.
"Thank you, son." He said, nodding. "Here's something for you." Saying this, he took out a Sweetrock, a Knaaren candy. As he left, Rast began to eat the Sweetrock. Why would the shaman lie to him? He wondered. He shrugged, going back to his parents' chamber. He could ask him later.