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Author Topic: The Chronicle Season 1 - A Traitor In Our Midst  (Read 673 times)

Offline Orristania

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The Chronicle Season 1 - A Traitor In Our Midst
« on: August 10, 2015, 01:07:01 AM »
Hi everyone! The Chronicle is a series of character-based short stories made to describe the history of Orristania from the year 1468 CE, when Orrimond the Great was crowned King of the Kingdom of Orristania, to present day. In Season 1, titled A Traitor In Our Midst, The Chronicle will explore the reign of King Orrimond, the lives of his five sons, and the legendary feud that develops between them and plays a large role in the future of the Kingdom. Each story is told in third person limited, and explores an event in Orristanian history through one character's point of view. So sit back, relax, and enjoy the fun! :)

P.S. Please feel free to post with any comments or questions. Thanks!

Offline Orristania

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Re: The Chronicle Season 1 - A Traitor In Our Midst
« Reply #1 on: August 10, 2015, 02:16:29 AM »
Episode 1 - The Greatest Man on Earth - March 17, 1468

Orrimond stared out into the midnight skyline of the city of Orrisette from the safety of the Royal Household; his thoughts wandering but his heart empty, as if the insides of his body had been removed and he was merely an empty shell - tired, afraid, wasting away. It was raining outside. The soft, calming pitter-patter of the water droplets against the window of his third-floor bedroom had a soothing effect, though Orrimond felt like no feeling, not even the greatest of joys, could extinguish the inferno of agony that surged throughout his mind.

Orrimond stared at his reflection in the window. He looked old; tired; his eyes no longer shone with the glimmer of youth that they once had. Though only 39, Orrimond felt like he had experienced much more than any normal man ever should have - the pain of memories from the past ate through his mind like an infestation of a million termites; what was for sure to come in the near future promised a much deeper torture.

Orrimond tried to clear his mind; he looked down at the bustling nighttime city streets below, trying to see but not to take in; trying to observe but not to understand; trying to live in a fantasy but not to accept the grave reality of what was truly happening. He tried not to think, but thoughts of what was happening only two rooms away from where he now sat flickered in and out of his mind like small ghosts. It could be any moment now...

Knock, knock.

Fuck.

Orrimond got out of his chair, shaking, and turned towards the large wooden door on the opposite side of his bedroom. Approaching it like a man approaches death, Orrimond extended a trembling arm towards the doorknob and opened the door with a slight twist.

One of his father's servants was standing in the hallway, a grave look in her eyes as she stepped into the bedroom of her master's son.

"It's happened."

Orrimond followed the servant out of his room and into the hallway of the Royal Household; he could hear the click of his shoes on the cold marble floor as he felt the warmth of the large lighted torches lining the hallway that connected the household's sleeping quarters to the entrance hall. He shuffled behind the servant woman as they progressed down the hallway; Orrimond knew what had happened but refused to let the realization of what would never again be take hold of him. Two doors down, he and the servant turned into the bedroom that had, for more years than he could remember, housed the man who had cared for Orrimond more than any other since the day he was born.

Inside the room, a man lie down on a large four-poster bed with a brown frame and velvet coverings. His father looked as if he were merely sleeping, simply resting on his bed like he always would after a long day at work. Orrimond had slept in that bed many times too; always when he had a nightmare as a child he would walk down the same hallway, open the same door, and climb into his father's comforting arms so his father could assure him that everything would be okay. But everything would not be okay. King Norman was dead.

And the realization came over him like an ocean wave; Orrimond was knocked down to the floor by the pain as he screamed in pure terror. He wanted to die, he wanted to die, he wanted to curl up and never have to face the reality of his new life ever again, he wanted the pain to end. But he knew it wouldn't. No longer would Orrimond have the man who had cared for him more than any other, the man who loved him no matter what transgression he had made, the man who would do anything for his son regardless of what it took. Orrimond dry heaved and dry heaved and he couldn't stop; no tears came from his eyes, the pain was too great for that. The servant tried to lift Orrimond up off of the ground, but Orrimond wouldn't let her; he knew that if he stayed on the ground forever and didn't get up then he would never have to face the reality of the future.

For his father was dead. The greatest man on Earth ever to have lived was dead. King Norman was no more.