They called it the Seat of The World

by **Theur** on November 6th, 2012, 2:56 am

10 Fall, 512 A.V

The way the sun fell on the ground; the fact that there were birds chirping when there were none before; the way that there were ample amounts of food and water around; the way that everything seemed to be here meant only one thing. This was the “Seat of the World” the only true natural refuge from the wilds. It seemed that there was not one thing out of place from this sanctuary, and then there was Theur.

The soft breeze that came made Theur shiver; the chirping of birds gave him a headache; the sound of leaves cracking annoyed him; the water trickling down from the ceiling absolutely infuriated him, everything annoyed him. It didn’t help that Theur was having a fever and a bad one too. To him it didn’t matter at if this was the Seat of the World or the side of the road. All he cared about was how to deal with this fever.

Theur’s fever was doing a number to his body. He had a massive headache and he had a terrible cough. His hands would shake uncontrollably from time to time and his body was sore all over. There were a hundred-and-one things wrong with him and a hundred-and-one more things to be worried about. This had been going on for some time now ever since he arrived three days ago. Maybe it was the red berries he ate a few days ago Theur thought, his stomach growled as if in approval. “Red beareiees…” Theur moaned it had to be red berries. Theur knew his berries well, he had no teacher but experience taught him which were good and which were bad.

“Yellow and Blue they ain’t right for you
Red and Black well they dain’t kill Jack
Red be wary, Red and Blue…..
Black is always good for you”

He muttered the words and recalled the berries. They were indeed red but they had spots on them but he couldn’t remember what colour they were. If they were blue then.... that was but if they were black then it was safe to eat. He thought and thought but with his headache it was near impossible, he just hoped that whatever it was, it would go away and soon. He got his answer a few chimes later in the form of a sharp pain coming from his stomach. It felt like hunger, an immense hunger but deep down he knew it wasn’t, it was something worse. Was it food poisoning? Theur asked himself, he couldn’t think straight then suddenly he felt something rising near the back of his throat whatever it was he was going to use everything he had to keep it down. He swallowed, drank, choked himself, rolled around but it did little to stop whatever it was. It wasn’t long before it filled his very mouth, the only thing holding it back was his tongue and a tongue can only hold so much.

It burst out in colours that should never be combined, in smells that should never be smelled. He threw up a mouthful and just as he finished did it again and one more after that, the sight and smell of it was enough to make anyone throw-up. Theur collapsed shortly after, falling to his side (in turn avoiding his own mess) before he lost consciences there was an aftertaste in his mouth with one distinct flavour. The flavour of blood.

by **Theur** on November 6th, 2012, 3:12 am

12 Fall, 512 A.V

“So…it realee wos food poison-ing” Theur noted. Yesterday nothing much happened; all he really did was sleep and drink. Today he felt was a good day, the sky was blue, it wasn’t too hot and it wasn’t too cold. A gentle breeze came in once in a while,, things didn't annoy him as much and in general he felt a whole lot better. Except for a few lingering symptoms, it was as if his fever never happened, so he figured that he could begin to eat food again. Theur sat upright against the limestone wall and the first thing he noticed was that there were plenty of berries to choose from. Berries he’s seen, berries he hadn’t seen, berries that were round shaped, berries that were oddly shaped, berries in all different colours, berries that smelled and berries that didn’t, repulsive berries painful looking berries. He threw up in his mouth a little. Berries was not on today’s menu.

Theur scanned the area with his eyes sometimes squinting, scrutinizing every detail and sometimes opening them as wide as they can go, to spot any difference in the scenery. It was in one of these scans that Theur found something wrong, all he could see were berries or rather berries were the only things he could see. Every shape and every line contorted to form a berry of sorts, until he realized that it wasn’t berries he saw but colour instead. He thought he got better but in fact he got worse.

Theur panicked jumping back limbs flailing, a flash of pain surged through his arm had he cut himself? It must have been the limestone but that little accident if even for a few moments brought him back to himself. He could pick up the sound of water falling, he could feel the wind on his face and he could smell the earthy smell that seemed to come from almost everywhere but most importantly he could see different things. Trees, rocks, the earth, his own two hands he could see them all feel them all and that meant one thing to Theur. He was still at the Seat of the World sitting upright against the limestone wall. The colours came back soon after, it took away his sight and then proceeded to take his other senses. Soon he was all alone in this seperated by everything else. He had lost all of his other senses except touch but touch was all he needed.

He figured that if an accidental cut was enough to bring him back for a moment or two then a massive cut would bring him back for good. Theur always kept his knife near him, on him and took a deep breath on what he was gonna do. With one quick movement he reached around, pulled his knife out from the small of his back and with another movement, cut his own hand the same one that had been cut earlier. The pain seemed to erupt from his hand and he found himself back at the Seat. To assure himself that he wouldn’t go back, he quickly tossed the knife from his good hand to his wounded and proceeded to cut his only good hand but the moment the knife touched his wounded hand, a shot of pain zoomed up and down his arm. Theur fumbled with the knife, he couldn't even hold it steady and yet he still went for it. He stabbed his own hand. His hands swelled with pain, a pain Theur knew he couldn’t contain. He yelled, he screamed, he cried loud terrible noises escaped from him and he knew he was gonna be fine.

Water….Water…….Water Theur could hear the water but he couldn’t find it. He had his hands clasped together; pushing against each other because he knew that keeping a wound under pressure prevents anymore unnecessary blood to be shed although he didn’t know what putting to wounded hands together bloodied side against bloodied side under pressure would do. Theur circled the Seat atleast three times and though he found water but they were all small streams, tiny waterfalls at best. Theur needed a pool. He had water but he had no container to hold it, when he went to lap some water up he noticed that the ground was wet. Now the ground around the Seat was made of mud, dirt and allot of soil. When this type of ground gets wet it becomes allot easier to handle and that gave Theur an idea, he can dig himself a pool.

He didn’t need much maybe ten or twenty centimetres but digging with one’s feet is tiring. His palms matched the colour of his blood his fingers were next. He dug and he dug some more but the hole would fill up to the brim with water and fill up with earth still, he dug and dug till his feet were caked in dirt and still he continued. Frustration and pain was all Theur felt and frankly he didn’t care anymore. He thrust both of his hands down into the hole and if they didn’t fit, well he’d make them fit. A cold stinging pain accompanied by a sharp stabbing pain washed up, down and through Theur. It took all the willpower and mental fortitude he had not to remove his hands, though that didn’t stop him from yelling.

He yelled and he yelled and he yelled some more, Theur was having second thoughts about this. Beads of sweat formed all around him, the pain was like that of a fire but still his hands in. It was only when the pain grew to be dizzying did he finally remove his hands. They weren’t just clean and blood free but they were orange a strange hue of orange. He knew this colour as he had done this before. A flurry of emotions flashed through him, everything from amazement to horror in that order. Theur was right to feel that way after all he could count the number of times this had ever happened, fewer times than he has fingers on one hand. This time however it was different, out of all the times it had happened before this was the only time it was so pronounced. The orange appeared so vibrant, so much so that he could actually feel the orange. Furiously he began rubbing it around the rocks, the ground, anything he can get his hands on to remove the orange hue. Nothing happened in fact he might have cut himself again.

As mysteriously as the orange appeared, it vanished. The orange never lasted long and on this account it was no exception. Shaken by the orange Theur went to get some water to splash on himself. As he did he couldn’t help but stare at his hands. He hated this, the orange he didn’t know why he had this ability (yes he can call upon it if he tries really hard) that no one else had. People believed him mad but if it was just that then he wouldn’t hate the orange so much. He would call the people mad and they would call him mad, everybody’s happy, but that simply wasn’t the case.

Once he called himself special, being able to call upon the orange. Whenever the orange does come out, it usually enveloped his hands with a warmth and with this he felt he could do anything, lately though all it did was remind him of the orphanage. All the faces that he'd never see, the home he could never again go to and all because of the fire that burned it down. That wasn't it though, he did nothing that day absolutely nothing, the orange besides turning his hands orange is absolutely useless to him. That he hated.

A grumble from his stomach broke Theur from his trance. For a moment he was overwhelmed with fear, what if he threw up again what if he passed out again but soon his fears were put to rest. Theur was hungry or rather still hungry. Slowly he scanned the area for food, confident that no more berries will appear and grateful that he won’t have to cut himself again. Nuts were in abundance here and also fruit small fruit. He ate them all nuts, fruits and when he smelled flowers he ate them too. Not long after Theur fell asleep with a full belly and content.

oocThe colours are hallucinations and the orange hue on his hands is him shielding but Theur doesn’t know that. What he doesn’t know I try to show

by **Theur** on November 28th, 2012, 3:16 pm

28 Fall, 512 A.V

Theur rushed around the Seat of the World, a clear panicked expression slapped across his face. He hastily grabbed all of his things and stuffed them down his bag, what he couldn’t stuff he carried along with him. It didn’t take more than five chimes and then he ran, he ran as fast as his legs could take him he sprinted as far and as fast as he could. Over rocks and under branches, he swerved past trees and avoided a shallow fall but when he finally got out of the Seat, when he finally saw the massive plains, his heart sank.

A few days ago some travellers came to the Seat of the World, probably to rest a while, merchants by the looks of them. They had boxes, some had barrels, some wore strange outfits but there was another group who Theur has never seen before. The other group wore entirely black from the neck down. They had weapons, weapons that could cut a man in two or crush him. It was a pretty safe bet to call them at least fighters but deep down Theur knew they were more than just fighters or hired thugs. Once upon a time he himself was a fighter, a pit fighter. Savage, gory, violent and in that ring; fearless, none of that showed when he saw the men, he only felt fear. The travellers stayed for three days leaving in groups of three at a time, in that time Theur never once approached them rather he hid from them. For those three days he observed them and what he found was they all were heading in the same direction perhaps a town Theur thought, where else would merchants go but to sell their stock and so he planned to follow the last batch of travellers to town. That was his plan.

Theur stared at the Great Plains wondering on what to do next, the vastness of the plains wasn’t quite registering to him. He had stayed in the Seat for so long that he forgot where he came from. He stood there staring into the plains while the high sun cooked him, when he realized this Theur simply took a step backwards, somehow tripping over his own leg and fell backwards, followed by a mountain of stuff. Frustration welled inside of him, escalating and testing Theur’s patience. He breathed in slow took deep breaths but he burst into a fit of rage picking up a stone and squeezing as hard as he can before throwing it at the nearest tree. It bounced back hitting Theur on the head, annoyed he reached for his spear with ever intent to destroy but as soon as his fingers brushed along the wood of the spear, all traces of frustration disappeared.

What am I doing Theur asked himself. The realization of being stuck all alone in the Seat of the World finally sunk in, and it scared him. With a loss on what to do Theur slowly began to fix his stuff, picking up this and that, it was during this that he noticed a dagger on the ground; Theur doesn’t own any daggers. It was probably left behind by one of the travellers he noted, as he stared at it, it wasn’t anything special. The blade was made of metal and the handle of wood or something similar wrapped in leather. It was unadorned, simple and yet it caught Theur’s attention.

The dagger was stuck on the ground wedged in between roots, rocks and dirt. No matter how hard he pulled he couldn’t pull the dagger out so he figured if he can find out how it came to be stuck in the first place, he can proably work backwards from there and get it out. Try as he might he couldn’t think of any natural method that would lead to this. It all came so suddenly, one thought raced through his mind over and over again, he had to tell himself it wasn’t possible but something in him said otherwise; the travellers they knew of Theur’s existence right from the start. Now his mind was really racing, he thought of every possible reason every possible scenario why they chose to ignore him. His eyes went back to dagger staring at it intently afterall that was really the only thing he knew.

Wouldn’t it be great if it pointed towards a town he thought to himself. He actually chuckled at the thought but then it soon became an idea, an idea that pestered him more and more. He didn’t really have any real idea why, he didn’t even have a gut feeling that it was remotely right but still the idea pestered. Four bells later he finally left the seat of the world in the direction of the dagger.