2012-366 Day 321 – Variance Prologue Part I

I told you it wouldn’t be long until the arrival of the second secret project. I really just wanted an extra day to get my thoughts in order without having to put it all down in the post. In honor of the back half of National Novel Writing Month, I am kicking off an on-going story that I will come back to over the rest of the year (and depending where it ends up, may be my project for next year). The deficient part of my blog I referred to yesterday was my story telling ability, so I’m going to work on that with a series of short stories (chapters, if you will) which will all be tied together down the line. I have my reasons for titling it “Variance,” but you’ll just have to see why down the road. As I said yesterday, this format will also allow me to write ahead a little when I have the chance, so I can have updates ready for days that I may be travelling or celebrating certain national holidays.

This is an ancient Eastern martial arts/samurai/ninja crossed with a cowboy western style story, though not tied to any particular land or custom (I will be making up my own if you can’t tell, thank you very much). I hope you enjoy it, I plan to have some fun with the story.

The wind whipped a tiny cyclone of dust along the empty, packed earth street. The weathered buildings still betrayed some of the life that had fled them minutes before, clothes strung along lines crossing above the walkways, a wisp of smoke curling from a chimney top, the fire unaware that it was supplying heat to an unoccupied room. A mud patch in front of one of the homes gave a small clue as to what transpired in the previous moments, several wagon wheel tracks were freshly imprinted there, puddles having just reformed at the depths of the tread. One would perhaps consider the area a newly minted ghost town, aside from the fact that the main street was still occupied by eleven figures.

The lone central figure was ringed by seven men and three women, although he didn’t seem too concerned about the situation. Simply appraised on their respective clothing, the reason for his confidence was pretty clear. Arrayed in a light gray padded body armor which left his muscular arms exposed yet rising to cover his mouth and nose with a lighter fabric, his figure would have been intimidating even without the hood that rose up from his shoulders and shaded the remainder of his face. The only other exposed area was his bare feet, which currently rooted him to the ground as he stood ramrod straight in the middle of a circle of the filthy dregs of humanity.

These lowlifes are not worth a description individually, any image of a ragtag band of pirates or thieves called to mind will likely fit the bill nicely. They are armed with the usual array of clubs, knives, and swords. Thankfully they possess no ranged weapons, as they would just as likely injure themselves as the target they were aiming at. Come to think of it, that might explain the odd eye-patch here and there among the group. Their fear is masked the loud grumbling of bravado, with occasional intelligible barb flung into the empty space between them and their quarry.

Unfortunately for the man in the center of all this, that description only held for eight of the ten people surrounding him. The final two, a man and a woman, stood back a little from there slavering brethren, arrayed in a fine silk, high collared, long sleeve tunic with a white dragon emblazoned across the front, matching the shade of their white pants, which were oddly devoid of the dirt around them. It was obvious that they held the leash of the bedraggled mob that surrounded the lone figure, and it was the deep voice, essentially a growl, of the man in the dragon tunic which finally cut through the flitting winds.

Weight: 222 Loss: 18 lbs – Running Yearly Mileage: 351.7 miles
Softball Stats: Playoff Game – 3/4 (.750), 2 R Season – 21/28 (.750), 5 2B, 14 R, 12 RBI
Fitocracy Level: 26 ID: disciplev1