StarDestroyer.Net BBS

My other story isn't getting much attention at the moment, but that's okay, it's on a sort of hiatus at the moment. Meanwhile, to satisfy that craving you all have for the kind of stories that only I can tell, here's another story. You may be able to spot connexions between the two I'm writing, maybe not.


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Lethewe Became.

He looked around with a slight hint of confusion as the fact sank in.

He noticed that he was in a forest. Why was it called that? Because there were lots of trees, that's why. But what made them trees, exactly?

Suddenly, with the force of a tightly-wound spring explosively uncoiling, he knew.

A noise that sounded suspiciously like someone clearing there throat behind him startled him. He turned around. The man, he had expected, but Lethewe was almost positive that his arrival would have been preceeded, or at least accompanied, by earth-shaking fireballs or something.

Still, he was here now. Lethewe, fell on his face. The man he was prostrated before, (who seemed normal enough), glanced briefly upward, squinted at something that Lethewe wouldn't have been able to see, (and he checked quickly, too, just to make sure), shrugged his shoulders lightly, and looked back down with what could best be described as a rather flustered expression.

He Spoke.

"Umm, I guess, that is, I suppose it's alright if you, umm, stand up, I guess..." He trailed off, as if not entirely sure what he meant to say. Lethewe chanced a quick glance. The man seemed to be talking to himself. "I suppose that him bowing is perfectly reasonable... I mean, I did create him and everything..." He trailed off again.

Lethewe decided to take charge of the situation. "I'm going to stand up now, I hope you don't smite me." He climbed to his feet and dusted off his robe. He realized that something wasn't right. The man standing before him was wearing unusual clothes - he seemed to be wearing two robes at the same time, one on his chest, with small circles running up its front, and one that was sewn together around each leg. Across the man's face were two clear circles. With another shock, (Lethewe was getting used to these, he had led a fairly shocking life so far), he realized that the man was hardly more than a boy. "My lord." He hesitated. The boy apparently took the hesitation the wrong way. "Oh," he said, stepping forward and extending his right hand, "I'm sorry, my name's Nathan, but can call me just Nate."

Lethewe bowed again. "My Lord Just Nate, I am grateful for this marvelous gift of life, and far be it from me to question Your divine will, but," he ventured more carefully, "are you sure that's exactly how you want to look?" Nate looked down. He realized with a start that his appearance was hardly that of a divine being. Deciding to forgo the inevitably lengthy argument about his title, (a decision he would look back on and curse for millenia to come), Nate changed.

In the place where had stood a boy, there was now a god, ancient and powerful. Although his white hair and curly beard at first look seemed to tell of old age, the gleaming eyes shining out of his craggy, handsome face over a perfectly muscled body spoke of eternity. The abbreviated robe he wore didn't seem like it would provide much protection from cold, but Lethewe suspected that freezing would not be a problem for this diving being.

A divine being who even now was leaning in with a conspiriatorial whisper in his voice of thunder and mountains. "I would appreciate," he thundered softly, "if this wouldn't be repeated." Lethewe may have been alive for less than half an hour, but he knew, he knew, that he was the only thing alive in the world. Well, the only man, anyway. Somewhere there were ancient beings, creatures who walked even now in valleys and glens that people would not reach for many years. He tried to explain this to his oddly forgetful god. "O great one," he started.

Nathan shushed him, then, putting a massive hand on his shoulder, gently turned him around. "Behold your home," he rumbled expansively.

Later that night, as Lethewe lay stretched in bed, his wife curled lovingly at his side, he reflected on the day. Overall, it had been a pretty good one. Around him, his neighbours, though not as old and world wise, shared a silent agreement.

First Reaction: Umm.... WTF, yes?

Second Reaction: It's interesting, now that I'm reading through it for the second time. Amusing.

Although its beginning was far from glorious, the inhabitants of Lethewemos hadn't let that stand in their way. In the three centuries since it had been founded, its citizens, led by the same boldness and drive that had marked their patriarch, had settled along the coast for hundreds of miles, and had pushed almost as far inland.

These villages had been mostly independent until the time of King Velka the Iron-Fisted. He had forged the scattered settlements into a unified country to combat the increasing threat of barbarian hordes, rival cultures, and gangs of bandits, all of which had suspiciously begun appearing with alarming frequency right before Velka became the mayor of Lethewemos.

In the past twenty years, its influence had diminished greatly, since the king moved the capital of his fledgling kingdom to his home town of Krenlen, but it was still the nation's biggest port, and of the most important cities in the world.

Of the thirty-thousand people who lived there, fewer than ten percent had an occupation that wasn't concerned in some way with the sea. The remaining twenty-seven thousand tried not to look down on the minority, but it was hard for even the crustiest sea dog to not feel a sense of pride well within his breast when one of Lethewemos's stately ships sailed into harbor, white sails gleaming crimson in the light of the setting sun.