Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Koreshi Chronicles: Titan's Tale - TN 1922, 12 Spring

She was annoyed that Sister Matya Verhovan had called assembly. She hated going to the main hall and being bored by the talk of religion and ethics at the best of times, but her nose was itchy because she had just pierced it herself the night before. Worse than the irritation of the itch was the puss and blood still oozing from the wound. She would have preferred another couple of days for it to heal before facing the other kids at the orphanage and subjecting herself to their ridicule. Not that she really cared what they thought, not really.

She wore a short-brimmed sunhat she had tailored herself with patches of military fatigues - the only cloth readily available. She wore that with her head down. With any luck, the sister wouldn't pick on her again and maybe her nose would go unnoticed.

Just this once, she wished she was wearing something less attention-grabbing. Her short dress and leggings were not so bad, her army boots were OK too except for the bright laces, but she was sporting an off-the-shoulder leather tunic that she had embroidered with a series of military patches, the brightest she could find. It wasn't that out of the ordinary for her to wear something provocative -- the sisters were expecting it -- but there was a visitor today at assembly.

The intruder was not the only difference: most of the orphans weren't present. She knew something was amiss based on the attendees, and suddenly her nose was the least of her concerns. Sister Verhovan turned to the man. "Here you go, Mr. Corovan, the other ones." She said with some disdain and disappointment. A mix all too common when referring to the five kids now present.

They weren't all friends, but they spent a good deal of time together grounded, in detention, doing remedial classes or some form of punishment. These were the trouble makers, the rejects, the ones that defied the sisters of Prophet's Gentle Way orphanage of Temple Heights.

The young man called Corovan looked over each one of the kids. He was probably only 5 or 6 cyles older than she was, she figured. When he reached her, she fought the impulse to stare him down, thereby revealing her festering nose.

"What's your name?" he asked, stopping right in front of her.

"Piss off!" she let out despite herself. Sister Martya made a move in their direction, clearly set on shutting the unruly mouth, but the man waved her off.

"Do those badges mean anything to you?" He asked, pointing at her tunic.

"Yeah, I served with them." She said with that tone of sarcasm only hormones of a certain age can resonate at.

"Really? Have you? Well, then you wouldn't be interested in training with guns and camping out in the wilds, 'cause you know how to do all that, having served with such distinguished units. Oh well, too bad, we could have used you." Corovan turned to the others who were all excited by his offer not only to leave the orphanage but to go do something exciting.

She felt a flush of anger and regret. Anything was better than staying at the Gentle Way, but weapons training was positively cool. "But…" she started to protest before her pride stopped her.

Mr. Corovan turned. "Yes? You were going to say something?"

She didn't know what to say. She wanted to go. She desperately wanted to go, but she couldn't and wouldn't beg. She wouldn't give this guy the satisfaction of it. "No," she said her head down, though not because she was hiding her nose anymore.

"Too bad, I could use someone with your experience. Tell you what, if you agree to help me, I'll show you a better way of doing piercings. Deal?" Corovan smiled gently, not condescendingly, but like they shared an inside joke or something. It wasn't a smile she was used to; he smiled like a friend would.

"Nadya. Nadya Durand. That's my name. And you have a deal, Mr. Corovan."

Heavy Gear Roleplaying Game


Hermes 72 - Heavy Gear RPG - Most artwork Copyright 2002 Dream Pod 9, Inc.