Druid Fire
Chapter 2: The Strength of Men
Disclaimer: The Plot, Characters, Technologies, Ideas, Daydreams, Genetically Modified Fruit, and Magics contained herein are purely from the imaginings of the author, and any resemblance to any Peoples, Situations, Technologies, Magics, Or Foodstuffs, real, or imagined, is purely coincidental. The author of this story does not claim any ownership to these works, and, by posting this on the Internet gives permission to all readers of a legal age to read this material in their respective country to reproduce this for their own enjoyment. This story contains, or will in future chapters contain, mild sex, explicit sex, violence, blood and gore, blasphemy (depending on your religion), crimes against nature, unrealistic situations which should not be attempted to be replicated by mortals or, come to think of it, immortals, run-on sentences, sentence fragments, techno babble, and confusing dialogue sequences.
Amendment: The above information, while deemed accurate is not guaranteed to be true. Some ideas, and technologies have been cloned with the permission, implied or granted expressly, of the authors of the respective works involved. The author is not associated with, affiliated with, or payed by anyone, and writes these stories because he wants to, and not because he is strapped to a chair in someones basement.
Also: Do not flame me about Myria's (or any characters for that matter) diet, behavior, intelligence level, strength, speed or anything else that may break the rule of the conservation of reality.
If you do, I'll find some way to explain it away in some other chapter, but I find suggestions as to how to fix a chapter work so much better than flames, don't you?
YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
That night Myria dreamed. She dreamed of the village, she dreamed of James. She dreamed of Mr. Richardsson, and his old, sad eyes. She dreamed of Lilies. She dreamed of the attack. She dreamed in excruciating detail, every occurrence she hadn't noticed before seemed strikingly obvious to her, every pain magnified to the extreme.
She awoke with tears still in her eyes, but she awoke with new resolve. James had said the future was bright, and it could hardly be that if she grieved at all times. She would move on. She must. She had seen something odd in her dream of the attack, something about the Ronin.
While she was musing, the same nurse from yesterday walked in with a tray of food and interrupted her thoughts. “Hello miss Myria, I've brought you some breakfast, if you need anything else, just call out, I'll be close by. The names Judy by the way.” she said and quickly ducked out.
Myria looked confusedly after the nurse. 'Hmmmm, she seemed nervous, I wonder why' she thought. She pondered it for a while, but was soon distracted by the smell of the food. It looked like plain cream of wheat, but on closer inspection, it had what seemed like wild strawberries and blueberries mixed in, with a dash of honey, there was an unidentifiable juice that tasted sweet and decidedly like raspberries. After she was done the meal, she called out for the nurse.
Judy came in almost immediately, still looking slightly nervous. “Hey Judy, could you tell me where I can find Mr. Richardsson? I need to talk to him.” she asked politely. The 'girl looked slightly relieved, and not quite as nervous as before and answered “He's working in the field on the outskirts today, after you exit the building, turn left and walk to the thing that looks like a bus shelter, but is coloured yellow. Thats a teleportation booth, the next 'girl will be here for pick-up in three minutes, just ask to see Mr. Richardsson”.
“Oh, O.K., thanks.” she paused “Uuuummm, just wondering, but why did you seem nervous just a moment ago?”
The K-D-Bra blushed guiltily, “Well, you see, while most mini-tops who evolve from a result of trauma suffer from limited personality change, and pretty much all of the ones we have here evolved this way, instead of abuse, there are some who live up to the name of 'Excessively Violent Pokegirl'”.
“But I'm not a mini-top, I'm a...”.
She got the other girls meaningful stare, and glanced downwards as realization hit her. She had evolved during the night, while she slept. “Oh dear, I can actually see my stomach.” she sighed. The nurse giggled “Well, it'll be easier to diet now!”
Myria grinned in spite of herself “Oh no it won't, before, all the fat went to those things” she said, gesturing to her considerably smaller bosom. “Well you must feel considerably lighter!” the nurse laughed. Myria snorted, and soon they where both laughing hard, tears streaming down their cheeks.
About two minutes, many laughs, and a change of clothes (on account of her old clothes not fitting anymore, and of the several slashes from the attack) later Myria found herself sitting in the yellow 'Teleportation Booth', passing time by stroking her now considerably longer ears, reveling at how they felt so soft, like velvet.
Suddenly, she was aware of another presence. She stopped mid stroke and looked up to see a grinning Demon Goddess. “So, you'll be Myria if I'm not mistaken. Don't be embarrassed, finding joy in a new body after evolution is a good thing.” she said jovially “I expect your off to see Mr. Richardsson, hmmm?”. Myria blushed anyway “Yes, yes I am”.
“Well, just a moment...” the girl grabbed Myria's hand and concentrated for a moment
“There, just go out the door, and they shouldn't be too far away.”
Myria looked around, but the inside of this booth was the same as the first one.
“Oh, yeah, we made all the booths the same so people wouldn't suffer from nausea when their surroundings suddenly change”.
“Oh, O.K.”.
“No prob, I can see you like finding the answers to life's questions, it's the way you stand. As if everything that goes on is your business” The Demon Goddess winked and disappeared from view.
Myria, after muttering something about demon goddesses and them minding their own business, walked out of the booth to see a complete change of scenery. She was standing next to a farmhouse, and the town centre was just a speck in the distance. Out in the field to her left, about a kilometer away, there where the forms of working humans and pokegirls and Myria headed towards them.
The workers where grouped around a small boulder, removing rocks from the barren field and piling them in a grav car. Every once and a while a human would ask a 'girl for help, or, incredibly, vice versa. Myria soon spotted Mr. Richardsson, now dressed in a loose fitting T-shirt and jeans, working to take dirt away from the boulder so it could be removed. The boulder was roughly spherical, about 6' in diameter, and must've weighed at least four tonnes.
“Alright, Leia. Would you be a dear and loosen up the soil?” Mr. Richardssons voice raised above the bustle of those in the crowd, which went silent as they stopped work to watch as the Naiad sprayed water toward the base of the rock.
When she was finished, she nodded to Mr. Richardsson, who spat into the palms of his hands rubbed them together and stretched out his arms. Myria looked at him critically as he stepped toward the rock, seeing that he was lithely muscled like a swordsman, not like a body builder. Not that it would make much difference, she reflected, since no human would be able to lift four tonnes alone.
Mr. Richardsson braced his legs, gripped the rock, and heaved. For about 30 seconds, nothing seemed to be happening. “Oh dear, I think I put in too much water” the Naiad griped nervously. Then, with a slight sucking noise, the rock moved a bit. The world seemed to pause and hold it's breath. Mr. Richardsson opened his eyes, grinned, and ever so slowly lifted the boulder to waist height. Then shoulder height. Then, with a mighty heave, lifted it above his head. The crowd cheered and slapped him on the back as he walked over to the grav car and, ever so gently, set it down.
Myria watched in bewilderment, not believing that a human could be that strong. “Ah, you must be Myria, a pleasure to meet you.” Myria jumped. That voice. That was James' voice! But wait, no, it couldn't be. James was dead. “Ah, good, not many people break through the illusion, my names Henry by the way.” the stout worker, who had looked exactly like James a second ago but now looked rather plain, brown hair, dirt brown eyes, brown clothes, said.
“That's a cruel trick. I'm surprised no-ones killed you for it.” Myria replied, perturbed that she had fallen for such a spell.
“Well, for one thing, I cannot help it, it's a part of my nature. And for another, most people don't notice, they see what they want to see. You wanted to see the truth, so that is what you see. Or at least, what you believe the truth should be.”
“You see, I came from the past through Stonehenge, the Druid Door, created by Merlin to be a gateway between times, dimensions, and worlds. On my journey through time, I was infused with the endless change between dimensions, and I now live to change others. I am what is needed, I am a friend, a lover, an ally, a sinner, a priest, and a martyr. I have as many personalities as there are people facing me, and my exterior becomes what someone most wants to see. I work to change people, make them become the best they can be. A single word, a gesture, a movement, and you can change someones life. For most people, it's a blind choice, they don't know the impact of their words till they take effect and, sometimes, not even then”.
“So you can see what would happen to people if you act a certain way?” she asked, intrigued despite herself.
“No, not see... Oh, how can I describe it? It's more... I know what to do to make a person better. I don't see it, it's as if the knowledge was always there, but I only remembered it just now”.
Myria stopped, processing the information for a moment “So,” she said hesitantly “you know how to make peoples lives better?”
“No, I make the person better, not their lives. If making them a hobo would make them a better person, then that is what would happen. Fortunately, the amount of people who would be made better people by becoming hobos is infinitesimally small” Henry answered.
Myria glanced unconsciously at Mr. Richardsson. He was back to work, but the occasional passers-by would clap him on the back, or chat companionably with him. She looked back to see Henry looking like he was a world away, smiling knowingly. “Ah, attraction” he said with an infuriatingly wise tone.
“What?”
Henry looked mildly surprised “What you feel for John. And, what I suspect he feels for you. It isn't love, not yet, at least not from you. But it's attraction”. Myria shivered a bit.
“There's something about him, isn't there? Something in the way he moves, and talks. Something about what he does here.” Henry went on.
Myria unconsciously nodded, thinking. Suddenly, Myria was struck by the authors wish for the story to continue, and asked “So, who is John? And how Did Mr. Richardsson lift that rock?”.
“Mr. Richardsson's first name is John, though only a few people know it, and fewer call him that.” Henry answered.
“And the Rock?” Henry sighed “John has unlimited strength. By focusing his energies, he can walk around carrying a house as if it didn't weigh a thing. He has a base strength five times that of a normal human, and when focusing, it grows exponentially, starting at a slow growth rate, but rapidly increasing once he gets up to about 15 times normal strength. This takes complete concentration though, so it's almost completely useless for any kind of combat with more than one opponent”.
Suddenly, Mr. Richardsson clapped them both on the shoulder, making them jump in surprise, as neither of them had noticed him coming towards them. “Hey, Henry, gonna tell all my secrets?” he said grinning from ear to ear.
Henry began grinning too “Nope, John, just explainin' the secrets she already knows”.
“Well thats alright then” suddenly Mr. Richardsson became serious “Oh, and Myria... The funeral's tomorrow. Since you are the only member of his family that's here... would you like to speak at the funeral?”
“Yes. Thank you” she answered.
John went on “Also, would you allow me to speak as well?”
Myria paused...
“I know him. I've studied him for the past year, and I would be honored to speak, if you'd allow me.”
“All... alright. Thank you”. As Mr. Richardsson turned to get back to work, Myria remembered why she had been looking for him. “Mr. Richardsson?”
“Yes, Myria?”
“That Ronin, the one that attacked us? I remember you throwing a Pokeball at her, but...” Myria trailed off.
Mr. Richardsson stared off into the distance.
“One of the funny things about Pokeballs. If you throw them just right, even if you don't catch the girl, it'll knock her out”. There was an eerie silence, as this sunk in.
“You mean...”.
“Yes.” he said, staring at her with his sad eyes “That wasn't a feral attack. You where targeted by an enemy group who had become aware of our interest in you, and wanted to stop our numbers from growing.”
“Enemy group? What kind of enemy could you possibly have?” she asked, rage filling her, and departing just as fast, leaving her empty. Yes, their attention had brought the attack, but the attack was not their intention.
“A group which is intent on making Pokegirls slaves to humans, and want to take us over to stop our influence. They see that if people are given a choice between here and living under their rule, then they'd choose to go here. They see taking us out as destroying the stronghold before the battle.” “Actually,” he went on “they where close by the night I saved you, they tracked our teleportation windows...”
“They're coming.”
“When...” she began to ask, but Mr. Richardsson cut her off .
“We have three days until the scouts get here. Ten more until the first wave.”
“James told me.” he explained, seeing her questioning look.
“Oh.” she said. There was a pause.
“I miss him”.
“I know”. Myria looked at him, irritated. “Yes, you keep saying that, but I see no indication that you do. I don't know whats behind your eyes, and I can't really believe that anything bad would happen to you if you didn't want it to”. They stood there in silence, Myria silently fuming as she watched him begin to dig again.
Finally, he seemed to come to a decision, he stuck the shovel in the ground
“January 8th, twenty nine years, six months ago.” he said quietly. “That was the day I lost... the day I killed Kayla”. Myria felt cold, despite the fact that it was a perfect spring day, and shivered.
“I killed her... the day before her wedding.” there was a pause, and the air seemed to grow more frigid, as Mr. Richardsson fiddled with the end of his shovel. “She was going feral, but wanted to do things properly, she wanted to stay a virgin for her wedding. I was busy with the rest of the virgins, so I sent an apprentice.”
He paused again, clearly not wanting to continue, but set on the path nonetheless. “It was his first solo, and he was ecstatic. In his excitement, he did it wrong, and paralyzed her below the neck”.
“I could have fixed it” he declared, “but instead of sending for me right away, he tried to cover up his mistake and do it himself. In doing so, he made the damage permanent.” John seemed to be on the verge of breaking down then, the sadness filling his eyes, endless, fathomless wells of grief, making Myria eke out a sob, his emotions triggering those she had just buried that morning.
“When I got there, there was nothing to be done. She couldn't even be tamed, the spinal cord was so damaged that the chemicals couldn't be released from my touch, and she couldn't feel a thing.”
“And then, as I stared hopelessly at her broken body, she asked...” the next part was so quiet it could barely be heard “she asked me... to Kill her. There was nothing else to be done. I couldn't kill her with a touch, for the same reason the taming wouldn't work.”
“So I took her head in my hands... and crushed it”. Myria expected this to be the end of the story, she wanted it to be the end. Her heart couldn't sink lower, the renewed grief, and the guilt she now felt had pushed it as low as any heart could go, but it flattened itself against the bottom and whimpered as she heard the next sentences.
“The next day would've been our wedding day. Instead, it was her funeral.”
That's the end of chapter two. I am still open to any ideas you might have, either post it in reviews, or send me an e-mail at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it. . Remember, reviews are a writers grease, without them, the creative engine rattles itself apart.
Dex and Character Enhancements Chart:
Mr. Richardsson:
Natural Abilities:
-Touch of the Gods: Mr. Richardsson was born with the ability to release chemicals throughout the body by manipulating pressure points, while only the ability to heal and tame without taming are mentioned, there is evidence that he can control emotions in this way as well. It is implied that this ability has many other applications, but as to what they are, Myria can only guess. While it is said that Mr. Richardsson was born with this ability, there are no records of a bloodgift of this description.
-Endurance: The ability to physically exert himself indefinitely without exhaustion is implied in the circumstances of Myria's first encounter with him, as he would have to have been watching them from a long way off for them to not notice him. May be the result of a bloodgift.
-Stealthy Movement: Myria hasn't a clue on this one, but strangely enough, Mr. Richardsson can sneak up on people in an open field, with nothing to hide behind, in broad daylight, even when he's directly in their line of sight. Baffling
Enhancements:
-Longevity: Myria doesn't know much about this enhancement as of yet, but Mr. Richardsson is very old by his own account, and that of a minor character. May be the result of a bloodgift.
-Enhanced Speed x?: The speed at which he got to the scene of the attack from so far away, and the fact that he was at least as fast as the Ronin suggests either faster movements or faster reaction time than a normal human. May be the result of a bloodgift.
-Enhanced strength x 5-inf : Mr. Richardsson focuses his energies and increases his strength. The growth is almost imperceptible at first, but speeds up, growing exponentially once he hits 15x. Theoretically, he has unlimited strength, but Mr. Richardsson must focus completely for this to happen, reducing its usefullness significantly, as any more than one opponent is too distracting to focus properly, and even in a one on one battle, the periods of time suitable for this technique are too short for it to bring any real benefit.
Myria:
Authors note*: A Mini-Top that evolves because of traumatic experiences instead of abuse or enforced viewing of violent scenes will quite often have very little psychological change, but will still get an unexplained knowledge of weapons of all kinds, and be very interested in them. If a Mini-Top evolved due to the death of a loved one, especially their tamer, they will cling to that persons last instructions or words describing how they should live their life, and follow those words to their grave.
*(AKA: the author found it necessary to make these changes for the sake of the story, because a violent, angry, abusive Myria just wouldn't fit into this world, and would completely mess up this story.)