Thomas Quakenbush
Wanderer
In a mad world, only the mad are sane
Posts: 9 
Race: Elementalist
Primary Class: Terramentalist
Primary Level: 1
Soul Points: 6
Morality: Neutral Good
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Post by Thomas Quakenbush on Jun 23, 2014 22:00:26 GMT 1
Thomas eased the air from his chest as his arms started to burn, blinking hard as a thick trail of sweat dripped down from his dark hair and into the corner of his left eye. The boy's teeth ground together as he felt his body start to shake, his fingers vibrating as he held tight to the magic pulsing in his blood. Just a bit longer, just a little further and he could be done. Of course, that was what he had told himself nearly an hour ago.
The sun had already started to dip down towards the horizon when he had begun his daily practice, and now the pale blue sky was laced with hot pinks and bright, shimmering golds. The crisp, new clothes his mother had given him that morning were now folded nearly on the large stones that surrounded the rocky field they used for training, leaving him wearing nothing but an old pair of breeches that were torn at both knees. A thick layer of sweat shone on his bare chest and shoulders, revealing the thin and lanky frame. Stretched out before him was a massive, craggy boulder, the bottom caked with a thick layer of mud. It hovered, suspended in midair through the force of his magic. It too was starting to shake, the sharp, stone edges quivering as the energy holding it slowly wavered.
Letting out another, long breath Thomas finally relented. The fire in his arms was started to creep down into his bones, a pain that his teachers had warned against. While they applauded his efforts, the masters seemed quick to remind the boy of his limits. With a gentle flick of his wrist, and a slight bending of his fingers, the threads connecting flesh to stone snapped. With a deep thud the boulder landed at his feet, shaking the ground. Easing himself down, Thomas sat himself down on the smoothest side of the rock, listening to his heart thunder in his ears as he tried to catch his breath. Rubbing sweat away from his eyes, the boy stretched out his hands, staring down at his fingers. The tips were pink and swollen, though Thomas couldn't be sure whether or not that was from the training or his lingering nerves. He'd been hoping that a long practice would help clear his mind, see things clearly but.... The more he thought back to what had happened that morning, the more sweat seemed to be gathering on his palms.
Early in the morning, just a bit after dawn, Thomas had been introduced to the girl he would one day marry. She was a member of the House but possessed no magic, unlike both of her noble parents. It was believed that, if the two were matched, at least one of the children would be blessed with the power to move earth. Thomas wrapped his arms around himself, shivering. Ebba, his now fiance, seemed a pleasant enough person. With long, wavy hair and bright, green eyes she was even quite pretty. But Thomas still couldn't shake the tight knots that had gathered up in his stomach. The boy wasn't very interested in girls, or marriage, or the big, complicated mess that seemed to come with them, and yet someday he was expected to be a husband, father. A member of the House.
Thomas had always known he was be a soldier. He was his father's son, the son of a captain, and looked forward to one day having the honor of slipping into the crisp, Quakorion uniform. He practiced hard to match the same level of strength held by his more talented peers, or live up to the family name, and his dedication had been noticed. Some of the boys had already begun whispering things they assumed he couldn't hear. Angry hisses about how unfair it was that someone so weak and young was already being taken into the house. In all honestly, Thomas had never wanted to anything more than serve the House, and his country. Riding out into battle as his father's side had been a dream of his since he could draw breath. Was it so wrong to want that, and only that? Was it wrong for him have doubts about being rewarded for his efforts?
His fingernails bit into his skin as he stared at ground. Thomas could feel the gentle hum of the earth under his feet, the same sweet song that had been with him since he was just a baby. He often wondered just what the others felt when they used their magic. His father had once described it as a constant thrum, a dull rumble that could any moment burst into massive quake. Perhaps, if he listened hard enough and trained longer and harder he too would be able to tab into that deep, powerful roar of the earth. Maybe then he would feel a bit more deserving of the praise that weighed heavy on his shoulders.
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Etmere Quakerion
Wanderer
No good deed goes unpunished
Posts: 8
Race: Descendant
Primary Class: Necromancer
Primary Level: 1
Soul Points: 6
Morality: Lawful Evil
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Post by Etmere Quakerion on Jun 23, 2014 22:52:14 GMT 1
For as long as Etmere could remember, he could hear the rumbling of the earth, like a great and might beast Etmere had never had reason to fear. It was he good sort of beast, the kind that was there to protect him. Most could only give the beast suggestions, little manipulations so that they could get what they wanted, but Etmere, Etmere was certain that one day he could control it just like the great Quaker had before. He was just a boy, just six years old, but he was a descendant. He was practically groomed from the time he was born to be a ruler. He wasn't quite first in line for the head of the House, but with enough power, with enough control, that needn't really matter, or so his mother said.
Etmere had been out in the orchard when he got the news. The little stone ball he'd been been zipping around the orchard for his puppy to chase finally fell and crumbled when his older cousin had come outside. Ebba was nice. She and Etmere had never gotten into any of those familial tiffs all children seemed to get into, or at least they hadn't yet. Etmere usually only ever fought with his cousins over their terramentalism, but because poor Ebba had been boon mundane, she'd never gotten into those arguments. At least she was lucky, his mother said when he'd asked about why Ebba couldn't hear the earth, that she was born a more distant cousin, third or fourth or something else, Etmere didn't know. If she had been born to one of his father's siblings.... well a mundane could never be allowed in the line of descendants. When Etmere had asked what would have happened to poor Ebba, his mother simply kissed his head and told him not to worry over such things. To just be happy that Ebba would still be able to serve the House.
Ebba was all dressed up, and that had confused Etmere. Sure he was always dressed nicely, even if he ended up covered in dirt by the end of the day, but he was higher in the house than the older girl. She didn't usually have to get so completely prettied up before leaving the front hall. It was in the orchard there that Ebba told him about Thomas. "You know him, don't you cousin?" she asked when she brought it up. She was almost eleven then, not quite a child, but not quite anything more. "It's been decided that one day we'll be wed."
It wasn't hard to find Thomas after that. The boy was almost always training and training and training and goddess it must be awful to be a normal terramentalist if you needed to train so much to throw a rock. Etmere had used his gifts to cover ground quickly, pushing and pulling at the earth to speed along from the grounds of the House to the mid level of the city where the training grounds were found. And there, of course, was Thomas. Etmere skid on the stone, kicking up dust as he came to a halt beside Thomas. Not one of his more silent entries to be certain, but it was quick and effective and Etmere was a curious little thing with a dozen questions in his head. "Look at me, and how not surprised I am ta find you here." He prodded at Thomas, making sure that if the boy had somehow been able to ignore his grand arrival he no longer could. "So is it true? Uncle wants you ta marry Ebba?"
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Thomas Quakenbush
Wanderer
In a mad world, only the mad are sane
Posts: 9
Race: Elementalist
Primary Class: Terramentalist
Primary Level: 1
Soul Points: 6
Morality: Neutral Good
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Post by Thomas Quakenbush on Jun 23, 2014 23:32:08 GMT 1
He caught the cloud of dust out of the corner of his eye. Under his feet he could feel a slight shifting, a ripple in the soft song that always flow through him. They were ripples in the water, a sign that something stronger was heading straight for him. And judging by the way the ground was starting to vibrate, Thomas had no trouble guessing who might be on there way. When Etmere finally skidding into place besides the boulder, the older boy lazily waived away the small cloud of dust that had been blown up into his face. The younger boy always did like to make a mess, didn't he? But when you were related to the very head of the House, and heir to the thrown, he supposed it was acceptable.
Thomas pulled his arm away as the other started poking him, but the didn't hide the small smile that curled up into the side of his mouth. "Yes, quite true."
Holding up his left hand, a shinny new ring could be seen through the sweat and dirt that had gathered between his fingers. Ebba had given him the ring that morning, slipping it onto the same finger she had would hold his wedding band one day. His father had then given him a very similar ring, though it had a small, little stone in the center. It was green, just like her eyes. Ebba had giggled at him when he held onto her hand, and he could still feel the way his ears had burned as they turned pink. He couldn't help but wonder why he had been promised to a girl who was a good three years older than him, and had asked his father as much. The man had chuckled and fluffed up Thomas' hair. "They're giving the two of you a better chance at birthing, my son." The boy had quickly dropped the conversation after that, not wanting to know exactly what his father meant by that.
Brushing another line of sweat away from his face, Thomas let his hand fall back to his knee. The smile on his face shifted slightly, turning into more of a smirk. "Did you run all this way just to ask me that, Ettie? Or did you actually feel like working today?"
Though Thomas was the first to admit the younger boy's pure, raw talent, it didn't quite stop him from poking fun. He had often watched the way his father spoke with his lieutenants, watching the older men bicker back and forth over matters of state and the movement of troops. It was and odd sort of thing and, while he couldn't quite reason it out fully, he could understand why his father allowed it. A man who went through life unchallenged was a fool, or at least that's what his mother always told her husband. Even a man in power needed to learn to listen. Besides, Thomas couldn't help but enjoy the look on Etmere's face whenever he used the little nickname he'd come up with. It might have gotten a few boulders nearly rolled over on him once or twice, but it was priceless.
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Etmere Quakerion
Wanderer
No good deed goes unpunished
Posts: 8
Race: Descendant
Primary Class: Necromancer
Primary Level: 1
Soul Points: 6
Morality: Lawful Evil
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Post by Etmere Quakerion on Jun 24, 2014 0:20:40 GMT 1
Of course he had to make a mess. The earth wasn't exactly clean. And it wasn't like he was some fussy Sieron or something. Mess was a good thing. And he had to be clean and tidy whenever he was in the halls of the House, so really, that was enough clean for him. He was a kid. He wanted to have fun. And as a terrascendant kid dirt and mess were just to be expected as part of the package.
He grinned when Thomas finally pulled his arm away and flashed the ring. "Wow. Pretty fancy, Quakenbush." He jumped up onto the boulder and sat himself down next to the older boy. He'd seen a few of his cousins sporting those rings, Ebba the most recent. His own little fingers were absent of anything flashy. That was just fine by him. He was six! Girls were weird. Ebba wasn't weird, but she was his cousin, so she didn't really count. He didn't want any ring on his finger, thank you very much. He much rather see his hands covered in dirt than glittering metals and stone.
His eyes narrowed, a petulant little scowl on his face. "Etmere," he huffed. "Not Ettie, Tom." He hated the name. It was childish. And even if he was only six, he wanted to be respected at least enough for his not-for-awhile-yet-cousin to use his real name. Because he did not want to be called Ettie when he got older. Could you even imagine if Thomas called him Ettie when he was ten? Ugh. How embarrassing! He gave Thomas a shove. "What work? I don't see you working. Besides. We both know I'll will."
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Thomas Quakenbush
Wanderer
In a mad world, only the mad are sane
Posts: 9
Race: Elementalist
Primary Class: Terramentalist
Primary Level: 1
Soul Points: 6
Morality: Neutral Good
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Post by Thomas Quakenbush on Jun 24, 2014 0:56:08 GMT 1
Thomas tried not to laugh, but a small chuckle still escape his lips. There is was, that face. He could only hope his new sister would make that face some day, when he teased her. He let out a low sigh. He had almost forgotten that. The same day he found himself an one-day-husband, he was also an older brother. Goddess, he was only eight! Couldn't the world slow down for a moment, let him breathe? Then again, Thomas had always acted more than his age. Hard work and study came more easy to him than play. Still, he did taking some days to play ball with the older boys. Being a tall lad for his age, he found that he could run and keep up with those a few years old than himself.
"I've done my work for the day," he replied, still smiling as he started to count the day's events on one hand. "I've found myself engaged and listened to the dowry arrangements..." That had truly made the boy's head spin. He knew that a marriage, especially one within the House, was to be a long affair but did there really have to be so much money and land involved? From the little he could understand, money would be passed from his parents to hers, and yet money would also be coming back to them, and well as a property somewhere on the higher levels. Even just remembering it made his mind start to churn again, and he quickly moved on. "I've visited my mother and my new sister. They finally settled on a name, Cristiana." Thomas had already taken to calling the small, pink baby Annie. She was so small and delicate for such a long name. "And I then met with the Masters for daily lessons, and then just finished my own." Thomas wiggled his four fingers at the younger boy and then nudged Etmere with his elbow. "So I'm allowed to take a break."
Now that he was counting it out, it had been quite a long day for him. And it would be longer still, once he washed and went back into the lower levels were he lived. There was to be a feast that night. Not a grand affair, but large enough that a few members of the House and higher ranking officers from the army had announced their attendance. As Thomas had been engaged the same day of his sister's healthy birth, it was being taken as a sign of good fortune and a reason for celebration. Though he would quite enjoy the food, the boy did wish he could simply go home and sleep.
He started to play with the new ring without quite meaning to, rolling in around and around on his finger as he tried to get used to the feel of it. The band was a simple, polished copper. Ebba had explained to him between whispers at the table that she had asked for it specifically because it had gone with his dark brown eyes. Apparently his eyes could look like amber in the sun light, though the boy didn't quite see how that was possible. Eyes were eyes, and his were brown. Though he might have to start agreeing to Ebba's flights of fancy. He was going to be spending quite a bit of time with her.
"So what news from the House, besides me?" Thomas asked quietly, still looking down at the ring as it went around and around. "I suppose if I'm to be a part of a family I should know what I'm getting into." He gave Etmere another smile, though it was an uneasy one. It was battle, and not politics, that he'd been groomed for, and the idea of having to play such a delicate game frightened him.
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Etmere Quakerion
Wanderer
No good deed goes unpunished
Posts: 8
Race: Descendant
Primary Class: Necromancer
Primary Level: 1
Soul Points: 6
Morality: Lawful Evil
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Post by Etmere Quakerion on Jun 24, 2014 2:22:28 GMT 1
"Oh right," Etmere said. "You're a big brother, too, huh?" He snorted, grin on his face. "I wish your sister good luck if she's got to live with you," he teased, leaning into Thomas's side. Etmere's day had been exceedingly boring compared to the whirlwind of Thomas's. He'd gone through his usual routine of terramentalism with his father in the morning and his lessons with his mother and tutor in the afternoon. Nothing exciting. Nothing special. When he was done for the day he'd retreated to the orchard to play with his puppy. He was supposed to be training him, but the dog was about as tired of lessons as Etmere was by dinner time. So he skimped on the training a bit and settled with watching the pup run in circles after a little stone ball, well, until Ebba showed up anyway.
Etmere tilted his head up towards the sky as he thought about it. "Nothing terribly special," he said after a minute. "A few marriages are in the works with some of my older cousins. Auntie Talia is expecting another child soon. And everyone's worried about grandfather... but everyone's always worried about grandfather." Etmere's uncle may have been the head of the House, but only in action for the time being. His grandfather was still head of the House, but the old man was terribly sick and terribly old. In no way was he fit to lead anyone. That was probably more 'special' than the six year old realized. There was definitely a power struggle on the horizon for the Quakerions. Who wanted more power. Who wanted more wealth. A patriarch's death would bring nothing but grief and not all of it would be spent in mourning him.
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Thomas Quakenbush
Wanderer
In a mad world, only the mad are sane
Posts: 9
Race: Elementalist
Primary Class: Terramentalist
Primary Level: 1
Soul Points: 6
Morality: Neutral Good
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Post by Thomas Quakenbush on Jun 24, 2014 3:04:14 GMT 1
Thomas appreciated the feeling of Etmere's weight leaning against him, the feeling of the younger boy's shirt brushing up against his bare skin keeping his mind focused. Grounded. "I keep you out of trouble, don't I? She will learn to manage soon enough." Though really, having a flesh and blood sibling didn't quite have the impact he'd expected. Thomas thought his would have felt... changed somehow. Transformed. But holding the small, little body in his arms had felt familiar and easy. Maybe he'd been spending too much time with Etmere, but was that a such a bad thing? Even if they were two years apart, it had never really mattered. The only real thing that separated the boys was class, and even that wide gap was starting to close. It eased his fears a bit, knowing that there was someone so close to the top of the House he could rely on, even he was only a noisy six year old for now.
His dark brows knitted together as he listened. While mildly aware of the other marriages and children that would be born into the House, Thomas had only heard about Master Quakerion's health through heated whispers behind closed doors. There were even times he could hear his parents discussing the matters, their low voices carrying through the walls during the hours they thought him to be asleep. It was a heavy sort of thing, this inheritance business. It even seemed to make the air feel thick around the people who discussed it. "I hope he recovers soon," Thomas said quietly. "Though I doubt there's much to worry about. Your uncle is a good man."
Or so he had heard. Thomas had never met the man, and had only seem glimpses of Etmere's father and mother. And when they did stop by, the boy was usually too busy bowing his head down in respect. But his father, the authority on everything in Thomas' life, had never spoken ill of any high members of the House. And so as far as the boy was concerned, their country was in sturdy, capable hands. As for his future, however... "So, what of Ebba then?" he asked quietly, his fingers still never leaving the ring on his finger. "Is she... nice? She seemed it, but I barely had the chance to speak with her."
Thomas doubted that Etmere would know much, but he might be able to learn something. He need some kind of thread, some piece of truth about her that he could hold onto. Something to keep the girl with the big, green eyes from feeling like such a stranger. And then, in time, maybe he could do the same for his friend. After all, Etmere could not go much longer without a ring of his own. Soon the family would find the right girl with the right breeding, and right amount of magic flowing through her veins, and they would be matched.
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Etmere Quakerion
Wanderer
No good deed goes unpunished
Posts: 8
Race: Descendant
Primary Class: Necromancer
Primary Level: 1
Soul Points: 6
Morality: Lawful Evil
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Post by Etmere Quakerion on Jun 24, 2014 5:32:21 GMT 1
"Me out of trouble?" Etmere laughed. "Why, I think most of the trouble is yours, Tom. I would never." The grin on his face was practically criminal all on its own. He was a child. Trouble was practically his middle name. Actually his middle name was for his great-great-grand-something who had a long standing feud with half of Volcanion, so really, trouble was still fairly accurate. He was at least glad though when he hadn't been shoved off like one of his cousins might have. Despite the bickering, actually probably because of their bickering, Thomas had always sort of been like a big brother, or at least what Etmere thought a big brother who wasn't art of a political nightmare was supposed to be. He didn't have much to go on. His cousins were always fighting when their parents were watching. His father and uncle raised voices every time inheritance was discussed. But his mother's brother teased her kindly and bickered fondly, and that seemed... right. He was an only child, which was odd for someone so high in the house to not have siblings, but it had been a struggle to even have him, or so his aunties had said. Thomas was more like the sort of brother Etmere wanted than any of his other House cousins.
"Mother took me ta visit him last week," he said, kicking his bare feet off the stone. "He smiled when I gave him the little stone dog I made. I put it right by his bed so he could see it." Etmere didn't say they'd had to leave when he fell into another of his fits. Or that his uncle had looked so tired when he and his mother spoke, even before their voices raised. Thomas might be in the House some day, but even Etmere knew better than to talk about the quarrels of the family outside the House. That was best left behind locked doors.
He laughed when Thomas broached the subject of Ebba and Etmere was half tempted to coo over how sickly adorable that was. Instead he just rocked into Thomas's side again and grinned. "Ebba's very nice. We're not as related as you might think, really, but she's always been around, yeah?" Sometimes the House relations were hard to keep track of, even when he was supposed to know that as well as he knew the feel of the earth. Who was who's sister and brother to her but cousin to them and uncle to these. Sometimes it made his head spin. "She likes ta paint. Always covered in it during the festivals," he said with a grand smile, suggesting he'd been covered in it too more than once. "Mother always said she'd make a lovely bride."
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Thomas Quakenbush
Wanderer
In a mad world, only the mad are sane
Posts: 9
Race: Elementalist
Primary Class: Terramentalist
Primary Level: 1
Soul Points: 6
Morality: Neutral Good
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Post by Thomas Quakenbush on Jun 24, 2014 6:17:23 GMT 1
Thomas quietly watched the look on Etmere's face as he spoke again of his grandfather. There was something hiding in the smaller boy's voice, but Thomas had grown used to that. There were things he was not meant to know, and he could accept that. As a soldier it would be his duty to carry out orders, with only faith in his commander and in the cause he knew to be just. Faith, duty... There were as natural to the boy as air was to his lungs, though some might call it the trust of the fool. The older boys certainly seemed to think so, but mostly those from the House. Other children, the sons and daughters of soldiers who knew that they too would be following their parents into battle, seemed to understand. There were those who served, and those who were served. That was how it would be, and always would be until the world ended.
Putting a hand on Etmere's shoulder, he gave it a small squeeze. "He appreciates it, what else could a smile mean?" Thomas let his hand linger there. "When my grandfather was still with us, he would always ask me to tell him stories, even though his ears were failing him. I believe it's the company they wish for most, no matter what form it comes in." His mother's father had died young in batter, and there was nothing left of his grandmothers but names and polished stones. His father's father, the only grandparent he had ever known, had lived with them for little more than a year before passing on in his sleep. The old man was nearly deaf, and was always shouting, but his hands were rough and warm, and Thomas had always enjoyed the loud, long winded serums about what a man must and must not be.
"Painting?" he repeated, mystified. Art was nothing new to him, his mother was quick skilled with a needle, but Thomas still had to marvel at the thought of having the time to sit and create something from nothing. The little free time he had was spent helping his father, or training.... or training and then sleeping. But mostly training. His hands were dirty and rough from blistered that had long ago been rubbed down into calluses. The only time he had picked up a brush was when his mother forced him to work on his letters.
And yet... when he thought about how soft and green those eyes were, painting seemed to be something that suited those eyes. Mother always said she'd make a lovely bride. Thomas let out a small, choking noise and moved his hand away from Etmere. He rubbed at his face, pretending to wipe away sweat while hiding the dark flush that had lit up his cheekbones. For once Thomas had to hold back his tongue. Etmere's mother certainly did have many, many opinions, and the boy suddenly wished she would keep them to herself. "I... I suppose your mother would know more than I would." Thomas coughed again, trying to clear his throat. "Seeing as she was one... once." A bride, that is. A girl too. He needed to push matters away from himself before he managed to embarrass himself any further.
"Just imagine how much she will fuss, once they find a bride for you!" Thomas gave Etmere a playful shove. "They two of them were drag you through the markets to carry their bags, like a common ass. Mark my words!" The boy then covered his mouth as he started to laugh, the image of Etmere with a long tail and big ears too much to keep in. Thomas was sure that there would be servants for such things, but even at a young age he knew that woman were mysterious things. They could get what they wanted and, if they wanted the younger boy to be their beast of burden, they would find a way to make it a reality.
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Etmere Quakerion
Wanderer
No good deed goes unpunished
Posts: 8
Race: Descendant
Primary Class: Necromancer
Primary Level: 1
Soul Points: 6
Morality: Lawful Evil
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Post by Etmere Quakerion on Jul 4, 2014 19:55:52 GMT 1
Etmere nodded. His grandfather's main company these days were the servants and his children who were frequently at his bedside, though more to bicker with each other than to visit their dying father. It wasn't very often Etmere or the other children of the House got a chance to visit him anymore. When they were younger it had been different. He'd still be rather old and still busy with politics, but he was always firm about making time to see his grandkids. One day they'd be rulers of the House too, he would say, it was important they had a proper role model. Of course, that was mainly to fluster his sons, and of course that always worked. Etmere missed that.
He supposed the little stone dog would have to keep his grandfather company for now while his uncle and father did nothing but fight like children. Which was silly. Etmere was a child and even he didn't fight as much as them! Well, at least not over anything other than terramentalist abilities. That was proper fighting for someone his age anyway.
While shifting the stones on the ground out of idle entertainment, Etmere just about missed all of Thomas's fluster. He was just parroting what his mother had said once after all, why would it be something tease Thomas with? He was already betrothed. Of course the idea of brides couldn't be terribly far behind. But his mother did have a number of opinions that were probably better left unrepeated. That was just the nature of his mother.
It was when Thomas turned back around on him did Etmere give a little flustered jump. "Me?" He shook his head quickly. "Nu-huh. I'm not going ta be dragged around anywhere!" He didn't want to think of brides for himself. It was weird enough thinking of cousin Ebba already planning her wedding and to Thomas of all people. Etmere was entirely too unprepared to even consider that. He was six. What did he know of anything even regarding girls? Outside of his cousins, Etmere couldn't even think of a girl he knew, let alone might be betrothed to some day. "It'll be much different for me than you, Tom," he finally said. "Ebba's mundane, her marriage to you is different. I'ma descendant."
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