Author's Note: Yeah, Kyra does sound a little like Meru back when she was
still in the forest, but she's not much like that now, is she? Maybe
something happened to her... *starts stroking his chin evilly* Yeah, I
know, you're supposed to have a beard to do that, but gimme a break. I'm
fourteen.
Chapter 46
Oraeus sat in a meditative pose, the haft of his weapon resting across his folded legs. With his eyes closed, he almost appeared to be asleep. But beneath that calm exterior, a primal beast raged, beaten and jeered until it had been worked into frenzy.
************************************************************************
Twelve-year-old Oraeus appeared to be a normal boy. He was incredibly strong, and the best athlete in their considerably large school. He did well enough in school that no one would suspect his parentage. However, after his thirteenth birthday, all started to go downhill. He grew more than a foot in two years, and by the time he was fourteen, he was over six and a half feet tall.
This was all more than anyone could ignore. Everyone knew that Giganto blood ran through his veins by then. He was still respected for his abnormal strength and physical prowess, but people steadily drifted away from the young half-Giganto. He dropped out of school six months later. Nobody tried to stop him. Truant laws were made for humans, not 'gorillas', a derogatory name for someone with Giganto heritage.
Not trusting the human society, Oraeus's parents quickly initiated his training as a warrior. He combined combat studies with home schooling, but very quickly the young Oraeus lost interest in the latter. The human society would have no place for him, no matter how intelligent he truly was.
Three years later, Oraeus's parents were murdered by human supremacists, members of a cult who believed that humans were above all other species, Gigantos above all others. They viewed Oraeus and his family as abominations, disgusting offspring of a human and what they considered a monster. The seventeen-year old Oraeus was forced to flee his home or risk meeting the same fate.
Wandering the continent of Tiberoa, Oraeus eventually found the proverbial eye of the hurricane. Away from human civilization, a group of half-Giganto victims of predicaments such as his own had settled down in a small community near the ancient home of the Gigantos. Oraeus lived there happily for more than thirty years, separated from human prejudices and cruelty. He was married and had a son, who grew up far from the influences of greed and hatred that drove human society.
But nothing lasts forever, and Oraeus's tranquil existence away from humans was hardly an exception.
************************************************************************
Oraeus hauled the bundle of logs to the building site, then untied the knot that bound them and laid them in the pile where they would be carved into planks that would make up the new home. He wiped the sweat from his slanted brow, for carrying such a large load from the forest was no easy task. He spotted his son, already twelve years old, diligently carving one of the massive trunks. The boy looked up at his father, and the pair exchanged a quick wave before they returned to work.
Fastening his large hunting knife to his belt and hefting his axe, Oraeus started to trek back to the forest, looking for game that would feed his family that night. The axe was too unruly to actually use for hunting; it was truly a precaution in case there were any particularly ravenous bears wandering through the area. Feeling the buckskin wrapped around the haft of his axe in typical Giganto fashion, Oraeus felt a strange contentment in the pit of his stomach. This was simplicity, where everyone pitched in for the good of them all instead of the good of themselves. Away from the corruption of the human world, they found peace with nature.
Making sure his axe was safely secured in his back harness, Oraeus stalked through the forest with surprising agility, especially for one so large. With practiced finesse, the half-Giganto slunk through the underbrush, eyes roving for stray game. Finally he spotted a large buck, with huge antlers of at least twelve points. Oraeus drew back his knife, took careful aim, and hurled the weapon at the deer. The buck fell to the earth, dying quickly and painlessly, with its body almost completely intact.
Withdrawing the knife and tucking it back in its sheath, Oraeus grasped the body of the deer beneath its underbelly, and with a grunt, hoisted it into his arms. If treated correctly, it would be more than enough to last his family for almost an entire week. As he headed back towards the village, the half-Giganto picked up a faint scent of wood smoke, but he paid it no heed. There had been a small forest fire earlier, and the smell was known to linger for several days.
The village came into view, and Oraeus dropped the kill in horror. The whole town was ablaze, smoke curling into the air in huge clouds. Ignoring the deer, he sprinted back towards the inferno. The body of the buck lie in the fresh grass, its glazed eye pointed towards the smoke-obscured heavens.
Attempting to fight off the incredible heat beating down on his shoulders, Oraeus ran through the flaming houses, searching for survivors. Finally, his worst fears were confirmed. The charred body of his wife was sprawled outside their former home. Picking her up gingerly, he bowed his head in sorrow. Sobs wracked his large frame. Then Oraeus heard loud voices, and he laid his wife's body down gently. Perhaps there were survivors in need of assistance, and there was no hope for her any longer. He hefted his axe, having the weapon ready in case he needed to get inside a burning house.
Then a heavy boot slammed down on the haft of the weapon, and Oraeus looked up in surprise to see a small group of about half a dozen humans, mocking smirks on their faces. His eyes further widened when he saw several were carrying empty bottles of gasoline.
One of the humans spoke in a jeering voice. "Hey, look! One got away. Blow his brains out, Jack."
The human whose foot rested on his axe sneered maliciously and casually cocked a pistol at the half-Giganto's skull. Plunging his free hand into the leather sheath, Oraeus withdrew his knife in a flash, slicing through the flesh of the human's neck. Wrenching his hand upwards, Oraeus snapped the man's jaw. As the human's limp body fell to the earth, Oraeus was already on his feet, weapon in hand, before the ill-fated antagonist's companions could do so much as goggle at their dead comrade.
Within a few seconds, they all lie dead on the charred earth, some with weapons half-drawn in their hands. Oraeus let his breath out in a shudder and wiped the blood from his axe. Then, what he realized made his spirits sink even farther. The ruins of the village and the carnage he had caused the humans blended and became one. Too late, Oraeus realized he had done exactly what the humans had wanted him to; he had succumbed to the hatred that drove them to their acts of violence against people different from themselves. They passed off half-Gigantos as cruel and uncivilized brutes, and with maimed human bodies at his feet, who was Oraeus to argue?
Running his fingers one last time over the engraved handle, he thrust his knife back into its sheath. This blade he did not clean. He left the human's blood on the weapon, testament to the deeds he had done when he allowed his hatred to overtake his reason.
Once he had let the humans control him. Never again.
************************************************************************
Oraeus drew the knife and examined it. The blade had still not been cleaned; indeed, he had not used it since the incident. Most of the blood had flaked off, but to Oraeus it was still as wet and shining as it was the day he had drawn the blood from the throat of the human. It had been fifteen years now. It was his son's birthday. He would have been twenty- seven.
Suddenly, there was something that made Oraeus withdraw his attention from his memories. The branches of the Divine Tree began to shake, and there was a blinding flash of light.
Phil grabbed his weapon and the Jade Spirit as he shielded his eyes. "It looks like they're finally here!"
But when he withdrew his hand from his eyes, the sight was hardly what he had predicted. A sphere of light hovered in the air, and then it slowly descended and disappeared. What stood there instead was the last thing the Dragoons had expected. Rayen's feet touched on the ground. The former Red- Eye was completely unharmed, exactly as he had left, except for a lopsided grin that now graced his face.
"Miss me?"
Author's Note: Awww... poor Oraeus. So sad... *sniff* On the other hand, Rayen's back! Yes, I lied. I didn't actually think you people would believe me, and I got sick of you guys trying (key word there) to predict my plot. Next chapter, the all-knowing Rayen explains what the hell is going on! Yay!
Chapter 46
Oraeus sat in a meditative pose, the haft of his weapon resting across his folded legs. With his eyes closed, he almost appeared to be asleep. But beneath that calm exterior, a primal beast raged, beaten and jeered until it had been worked into frenzy.
************************************************************************
Twelve-year-old Oraeus appeared to be a normal boy. He was incredibly strong, and the best athlete in their considerably large school. He did well enough in school that no one would suspect his parentage. However, after his thirteenth birthday, all started to go downhill. He grew more than a foot in two years, and by the time he was fourteen, he was over six and a half feet tall.
This was all more than anyone could ignore. Everyone knew that Giganto blood ran through his veins by then. He was still respected for his abnormal strength and physical prowess, but people steadily drifted away from the young half-Giganto. He dropped out of school six months later. Nobody tried to stop him. Truant laws were made for humans, not 'gorillas', a derogatory name for someone with Giganto heritage.
Not trusting the human society, Oraeus's parents quickly initiated his training as a warrior. He combined combat studies with home schooling, but very quickly the young Oraeus lost interest in the latter. The human society would have no place for him, no matter how intelligent he truly was.
Three years later, Oraeus's parents were murdered by human supremacists, members of a cult who believed that humans were above all other species, Gigantos above all others. They viewed Oraeus and his family as abominations, disgusting offspring of a human and what they considered a monster. The seventeen-year old Oraeus was forced to flee his home or risk meeting the same fate.
Wandering the continent of Tiberoa, Oraeus eventually found the proverbial eye of the hurricane. Away from human civilization, a group of half-Giganto victims of predicaments such as his own had settled down in a small community near the ancient home of the Gigantos. Oraeus lived there happily for more than thirty years, separated from human prejudices and cruelty. He was married and had a son, who grew up far from the influences of greed and hatred that drove human society.
But nothing lasts forever, and Oraeus's tranquil existence away from humans was hardly an exception.
************************************************************************
Oraeus hauled the bundle of logs to the building site, then untied the knot that bound them and laid them in the pile where they would be carved into planks that would make up the new home. He wiped the sweat from his slanted brow, for carrying such a large load from the forest was no easy task. He spotted his son, already twelve years old, diligently carving one of the massive trunks. The boy looked up at his father, and the pair exchanged a quick wave before they returned to work.
Fastening his large hunting knife to his belt and hefting his axe, Oraeus started to trek back to the forest, looking for game that would feed his family that night. The axe was too unruly to actually use for hunting; it was truly a precaution in case there were any particularly ravenous bears wandering through the area. Feeling the buckskin wrapped around the haft of his axe in typical Giganto fashion, Oraeus felt a strange contentment in the pit of his stomach. This was simplicity, where everyone pitched in for the good of them all instead of the good of themselves. Away from the corruption of the human world, they found peace with nature.
Making sure his axe was safely secured in his back harness, Oraeus stalked through the forest with surprising agility, especially for one so large. With practiced finesse, the half-Giganto slunk through the underbrush, eyes roving for stray game. Finally he spotted a large buck, with huge antlers of at least twelve points. Oraeus drew back his knife, took careful aim, and hurled the weapon at the deer. The buck fell to the earth, dying quickly and painlessly, with its body almost completely intact.
Withdrawing the knife and tucking it back in its sheath, Oraeus grasped the body of the deer beneath its underbelly, and with a grunt, hoisted it into his arms. If treated correctly, it would be more than enough to last his family for almost an entire week. As he headed back towards the village, the half-Giganto picked up a faint scent of wood smoke, but he paid it no heed. There had been a small forest fire earlier, and the smell was known to linger for several days.
The village came into view, and Oraeus dropped the kill in horror. The whole town was ablaze, smoke curling into the air in huge clouds. Ignoring the deer, he sprinted back towards the inferno. The body of the buck lie in the fresh grass, its glazed eye pointed towards the smoke-obscured heavens.
Attempting to fight off the incredible heat beating down on his shoulders, Oraeus ran through the flaming houses, searching for survivors. Finally, his worst fears were confirmed. The charred body of his wife was sprawled outside their former home. Picking her up gingerly, he bowed his head in sorrow. Sobs wracked his large frame. Then Oraeus heard loud voices, and he laid his wife's body down gently. Perhaps there were survivors in need of assistance, and there was no hope for her any longer. He hefted his axe, having the weapon ready in case he needed to get inside a burning house.
Then a heavy boot slammed down on the haft of the weapon, and Oraeus looked up in surprise to see a small group of about half a dozen humans, mocking smirks on their faces. His eyes further widened when he saw several were carrying empty bottles of gasoline.
One of the humans spoke in a jeering voice. "Hey, look! One got away. Blow his brains out, Jack."
The human whose foot rested on his axe sneered maliciously and casually cocked a pistol at the half-Giganto's skull. Plunging his free hand into the leather sheath, Oraeus withdrew his knife in a flash, slicing through the flesh of the human's neck. Wrenching his hand upwards, Oraeus snapped the man's jaw. As the human's limp body fell to the earth, Oraeus was already on his feet, weapon in hand, before the ill-fated antagonist's companions could do so much as goggle at their dead comrade.
Within a few seconds, they all lie dead on the charred earth, some with weapons half-drawn in their hands. Oraeus let his breath out in a shudder and wiped the blood from his axe. Then, what he realized made his spirits sink even farther. The ruins of the village and the carnage he had caused the humans blended and became one. Too late, Oraeus realized he had done exactly what the humans had wanted him to; he had succumbed to the hatred that drove them to their acts of violence against people different from themselves. They passed off half-Gigantos as cruel and uncivilized brutes, and with maimed human bodies at his feet, who was Oraeus to argue?
Running his fingers one last time over the engraved handle, he thrust his knife back into its sheath. This blade he did not clean. He left the human's blood on the weapon, testament to the deeds he had done when he allowed his hatred to overtake his reason.
Once he had let the humans control him. Never again.
************************************************************************
Oraeus drew the knife and examined it. The blade had still not been cleaned; indeed, he had not used it since the incident. Most of the blood had flaked off, but to Oraeus it was still as wet and shining as it was the day he had drawn the blood from the throat of the human. It had been fifteen years now. It was his son's birthday. He would have been twenty- seven.
Suddenly, there was something that made Oraeus withdraw his attention from his memories. The branches of the Divine Tree began to shake, and there was a blinding flash of light.
Phil grabbed his weapon and the Jade Spirit as he shielded his eyes. "It looks like they're finally here!"
But when he withdrew his hand from his eyes, the sight was hardly what he had predicted. A sphere of light hovered in the air, and then it slowly descended and disappeared. What stood there instead was the last thing the Dragoons had expected. Rayen's feet touched on the ground. The former Red- Eye was completely unharmed, exactly as he had left, except for a lopsided grin that now graced his face.
"Miss me?"
Author's Note: Awww... poor Oraeus. So sad... *sniff* On the other hand, Rayen's back! Yes, I lied. I didn't actually think you people would believe me, and I got sick of you guys trying (key word there) to predict my plot. Next chapter, the all-knowing Rayen explains what the hell is going on! Yay!