I like to write about my characters to help me get in the mood. Here's my first crack at one for my Strange Aeons character.
"Courage" Strange Aeons Story #1
"Wake up Wilt, it's time for your slop" the guttural growl projected through the bars of the cell as a battered metal tray clattered across the floor, liquid sloshing from a misshapen bowl and mug.
The source of the voice was shrouded in shadow. There was a barred window high on the wall but it never seemed to let in sufficient sunlight or moonlight to illuminate very much - just an unchanging, sickening dull glow and occasional puffs of air that did nothing to relieve the suffocating feeling.
The voice emitted a grating laugh as its scraping footsteps faded into the distance.
The cell was cold, cramped and miserable. The solid stone floor was uncomfortably slick with moisture and scarcely 2 paces across for a grown man. The walls were tall and slick, rising high up to the unhelpful barred window well out of reach. The floor sloped up in one corner to a dry spot which gave a tiny bit of respite from the incessant wetness that seemed to cover every other surface.
As the footsteps faded into the distance, a small form twitched in the corner. Easy to miss on first glace, the gnome was barely 3 feet tall and had hair, skin and even eyes the same depressing grey
color
that pervaded the stone, the bars and even the light that glimmered through the window high on the wall. It was almost as if this place had some magical power to drain all color from any living thing and leave it a dull, grey husk.
The small form labored to overcome the stiffness in its joints as it stood up. It emitted a deep, pained sigh and with slouched shoulders padded on bare feet across the slick wet floor towards where the tray lay in the center of the tiny room. He picked up the bowl of watery liquid and took a sniff at the mysterious grey chunks floating in it. An instant later, he recoiled and retched at the foul smell and tossed the bowl back through the bars. It clattered down the hallway.
The battered mug of water had a greasy film floating on the top which didn't make it seem any more potable than the soup but it received a much different treatment.
The gnome swirled the liquid around like a sommelier at a fine restaurant evaluating the viscosity of a fine wine. He rubbed the bare chin which protruded out from between the two wispy muttonchop whiskers while he pondered something unfathomable for a few long moments and then set the mug down in the exact center of the floor.
The gnome suddenly sprang into action, quickly pacing around the mug and frequently ducking down to draw complex patterns on the wet stone with the tips of his fingers. The patterns emerged quickly, as if he had repeated this routine 100's if not 1,000's of times before, the gnome moving faster and faster as the nested circles of runes neared completion.
Finally, he fell prostrate in front of the mug at the center of the circles, his body heaving from the exhaustion of his labor.
For a few heartbeats, nothing happened...and then something changed.
The battered mug emitted a faint, warm glow as the lip changed color from dull grey to burnished gold and the liquid changed color to match.
Slowly, golden letters appeared around the outside of the mug, as if scrawled by a drunken hand with a golden pen.
"Courage"
The gnome jumped to his feet and grabbed the mug greedily. He closed his eyes as he took a long sip of the frothy golden liquid and sighed a very different sort of sigh than before.
When he opened his eyes, they had changed color to match the vibrant golden hue of the liquid.
He looked down and noticed the patterns in the wet stone were starting to fade. This galvanized the gnome out of his reverie - he quickly chugged the rest of the liquid so fast that some of it ran down his chin and splashed on the floor.
He collapsed in the center of the floor, golden eyes staring up at the tiny window far above...perhaps he saw a faint glow of gold through the bars?
Suddenly, his reverie was broken by an agonizing shriek echoing down the hallway. The gnome sprang to his feet and scrambled back to the dry corner of the room, looking worriedly through the bars down the hallway as the color drained from his eyes...returning them to a dull grey.
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