The Past Pt. I ("Kossuth's Blessing, Chauntea's Curse") Repost

It had begun centuries ago, he supposed. After one has been dead for so long, it is difficult to guess when one last drew breath. As many half-orcs are, he was the product of rape. Nestled between two mountain peaks at the spine of the world, his barbarian village had always been subject to infrequent raids by the orcish hordes. It was during one of these raids that his mother had been so brutally molested. Nine months later, he was born. Many of his tribesman blamed him for his mother's death. So strongly did his mother's sister believe this that on the very night of his birth, she threw him out into the cold to die, even as his mother's life-blood seeped out between her legs. Death did not claim him that night, however, as some other tribesmen spotted the bundle of cloth that so poorly sheltered him. He was taken to the tribal shaman, a man well-versed in the healing arts, as well as compassion. The shaman took him in and raised him as his own. He grew up differently than other children of the village- not just because of his orcish heritage- but also because of his hair. Tales surrounded him of his mother- the woman blessed by Kossuth with hair of fire, yet cursed by Chauntea. He had inherited his mother's fiery hair, revered among his tribe as a divine blessing. And he had also inherited the visage of his father, reviled by his people as the face of the enemy. Baleful glares followed his every step, yet none dared strike at him for fear of divine retribution. All of this changed when he came of age to be a warrior.

Street Racing [Part. 1]

The night shone brightly as the stars came out to play, motes of light twinkling in the midnight sky. A single flock of birds flapped their wings lazily as they flew smoothly over the vast expanse of land known to travellers as the Eastern Road. Slowing their flight, their primitive eyes alert, they glanced down at the murky city, makou gas vapors wafting away from lamps that glowed eerily against the night sky. A single humming noise brought the whole flock's attention towards the south, a reverberating sound that couldn't be heard by ears, but could be felt within the teeth and jawbones of every bird flying that night over the city of Westbridge. Two airships appeared, one of them white with silver lines streaming down it's beautiful form, the other solid clad metallic blue, with black stripes running like a tiger down it's azure hull. Diving into a barrel roll, the white one, zipped ahead of the other one and came inches away from slamming full force into the flock of birds in it's path. "AHHHH SHIT!!!!" could be heard even down in the city below, as Kyarn spun the steering wheel hard down, pulling his ship into a nose dive straight for Market Square. The other ship lazily floated down after it, like a righteous teacher scolding it's student, and parked next to the Westbridge beacon. Sliding the hatch door to the side, Dartanion strode out of his ship yawning, awaiting his friend to return. Meanwhile farther down below, even beneath some of the lighter cumulus clouds, Kyarn's ship had finally leveled out, right before slamming and destroying the Healing Wound Inn, to the cries of the brash young adventurers that used it as a home base. His back end seconds from clipping the roof of the Inn, the boy, his face determined, slammed his foot on the accelerator, and pulled hard back on the steering wheel, causing the ship to lurch upwards. Dartanion watched from above, shaking his head. "What a showoff," he muttered, his black trenchcoat sweeping the floor of the beacon. Turning the music on in his ship, he closed his eyes and sat back in his seat, the bass of a premium audio system built by Heifong Audio causing the gold coins in his cup holder to jingle around methoidically. A blast of cold air blew in through the door, and Dartanion swore, pulling his trenchcoat tighter over his scrawny body, and stumbled out the hatch, hurling a coin at Kyarn's airship. "WHAT TOOK YOU SO LONG," he yelled, over the scream of Kyarn's turbocharged makou engines. These too died slowly away, and the hatch to the airship opened, sliding up and out. Caia and Kyarn stumbled out of the hatch, a bottle of Ulaver wine in the Kyarn's hand, Caia laughing, and pushing Kyarn teasingly as he stumbled into Dartanion's grasp. "I know you didn't let him drink. There's a big match tonight, and he's gonna need all of his wits if he's gonna beat the competitors. Shit, the way he is now, he doesn't have a ghost of a chance to even beat me." Caia snorted, and turned away. "I didn't do it, it was his little wifey, she made him drink, i swear." Dartanion eyed her suspiciously, and took the bottle from the wildly giggling child. "Kyarn, where's Vortigan, and isn't he racing tonight?" Kyarn shook his head. "He ran into Dalamar's ship, and the front end is all fucked up. It should be easy enough to fix, just some body damage, the engine's still good. I'll check the oil levels while i'm at it, but not right now, my head hurts like a muthah!"