(You can open the map in a new tab & zoom in, if you read on a computer)

 

*****

 

A bum shambled down the side of a dark and lonely street, bottle of booze in hand.

He made this trip every day, twice. Once to purchase the golden liquid that helped him forget, and once again to send himself into the blissful embrace of a dreamless sleep.

Limping, he made his way back through the mud and shit and garbage of the poorest district of the capital of the human-centric country of Leitos.

The wind carried a chill breeze that didn't quite kill the smell of the open sewers and fish market.

The Bum grinned, revealing broken yellow teeth, as he thought about the "shining jewel of humanity", the "bastion of purity", the capital city Luminous. The poorest districts weren't even lit with torches, he made his way by moonlight.

He wrapped his threadbare and ragged coat around him as he rounded a corner, in an unsuccessful way to ward off the chill.

It was getting later in the year, Autumn was almost over and winter would be upon Luminous soon.

The Bum didn't care. The Bum didn't care about a lot of things.

Stopping to take a swig of the fiery liquid, The Bum shakes his coin purse. Three coppers. He'd have to wake up early and work at the docks, to earn up some more booze money.

He turned a corner to a familiar alley, rats scurrying away from his presence. He might catch one in a day or two, if he got hungry enough. It would probably be healthier than the food served in the slums anyway.

Slowly, he limped his way to a poorly assembled shack at the end of the alley. This had been "home" for longer than he'd care to remember now.

Unceremoniously, he plopped down and started throwing bits of garbage and wood he'd scrounged up in a small fire pit in front of the shack.

A small red aura slowly gathered on his gnarled dirty fingers, the tell-tale sign of Sorcery. With a snap of his fingers, a small fire ignited in the pit, revealing the bums features.

Grizzled grey beard and long greasy hair almost completely covered his dirty, scarred face, clothes filthy and ragged. His ears had slight points to them, a sign he was mixed, or "Daemon-kin" as the people of Leitos called them.

He gazed at the fire with hollow brown eyes that appear to have had almost all the life leeched out of them. He had been handsome, before. Now lost. He had lost so many things...

Gazing at the fire, he took a swig of the cheap, rot-gut whiskey. His constant companion. The poison that will destroy his liver or cause him to black out and freeze to death, eventually.

Would he welcome it when death eventually comes? He'd deserve it, He muses to himself darkly.

His decisions led to the destruction of everything he held dear. His vanity, his lust, his ambition, his foolishness - blinded him to everything that went on right under his nose.

Angrily, he looks at the bottle in his hand. Glaring at it for having the audacity to be almost empty. Tilting his head back, he downs the last of the fiery liquid in one gulp, and throws the bottle at an unsuspecting rat down the alley.

Its a good throw, the bottle lands directly on the rats back, shattering both its spine and the cheap whiskey bottle at the same time.

The Bum watched idly as the rat tried to scamper away with only its two front paws, squeaking pitifully.

"You're crippled now, huh? Well join the guild" slurred The Bum in a deep gravelly voice.

For the thousandth time, he contemplated ending it all. Just opening his veins with a piece of broken glass would do the trick, no need to get fancy. He'd bleed out and die, and 'that would be that'. No more pain, it would be soo easy...

And for the thousandth time, he couldn't do it. Maybe it was pride, some last vestige of the warrior he used to be keeping him from from 'going out like a coward'.

Or perhaps it WAS cowardice, he mused while idly scratching his scraggly grey beard. Perhaps he was just too afraid to take the final step into the unknown, as all people are.

But most likely, it was spite. Spite for a world that took everything from him. Spite for a society that viewed him as worthless, lesser. And most of all, spite for himself. After all, this is exactly what he deserves...

The Bum pointed his fingers at the injured rodent, red aura starting to form on his hand, but before he could end the rat's suffering, his Sorcery flickered away.

It did that, most of the time now. A head injury caused his Sorcery to dissipate nine times out of ten. It also made it difficult to concentrate on things like reading or mathematics.

It didn't stop the memories though.

Only the booze did that, which was finally starting to kick in...

Eyelids becoming heavy, The Bum threw a couple pieces of wood on the fire, and laid down in his shack, letting sweet oblivion take him...

 

*Smack* The sound of an open hand hitting bare flesh echoes in the alleyway, followed by a high pitched squeal of a woman.

The Bums eyes crack open. Its dark, the fire had died down to glowing embers.

Sticking his head out of the shack, The Bum spies four figures at the entrance of his alleyway.

Three men and a woman. One man is holding the woman by her hair, pressing her to the wall. The other is ripping her dress as she struggles. Its too dark to make out features very well. The Third is standing back, giving orders to the two.

"Hold that whore down ted, I don't want that bitch to scratch me"

The thug tearing at her dress finds her coin purse. "Looky here, this whores got silver!"

The order giving thug crosses his arms and chuckles. "Has 'business' been good tonight you Daemon-whore? You know what i think boys? I think we should 'liberate' this money that our little daemon bitch has tempted out of the honest & good men of Luminous"

The woman reaches for her money, but is held in a painful grip by the man pulling her hair. "Please" she begs "They'll throw me out if I don't have that silver!"

The order giving thug pulls something from his waist. The Bum sees a glint of silver flash in the moonlight. The thug moves to the woman and presses the blade to her pointed ear with one hand, and starts to unbuckle his trousers with the other.

"You've got bigger things to worry about"

She looks away, knowing what's going to happen.

Her eyes fall on the figure of The Bum sitting under a small shack made of scrap wood and rags.

Her eyes meet The Bums, pleading.

Disgusting. The Bum had killed men for raping women back when he was a soldier. It always made his temper flare up. He was well aware that this was a common occurrence in the slums, but that didn't mean he wanted to see it happen in front of him.

Suddenly a memory flashes before his eyes:

A young woman pinned to a tree by a spear. Skin dark in the moonlight. Her eyes meet mine. She smiles, happy to see me one last time. She's impaled by the spear through her heart. There's blood, so much blood. She shouldn't be alive, that wound was fatal. She says something and-

"NOO!" The Bum shouts as he reaches for someone only in his memories.

"THE FUCK!?" exclaims the dagger wielding thug as he struggles to button his trousers in a hurry. All eyes turn towards the sudden shout. They chuckle nervously as they see the old man over the soft glow of the dying embers of his fire.

"Damn, that hobo nearly scared the piss outta me!" the purse snatching thug laughs nervously

The order giving thug tells his lackeys to "Make sure she don't run" as he saunters over to The Bum.

*Unng* the big thug holding her hair punches the girl in the gut, doubling her over.

The Rapist stops just before the soft glow of the coals, face becoming visible. Smug face, hands on hips, dagger in hand.

"Don't you know it ain't nice to sneak up on people like that old man? I think you owe us an apology"

The Bum just stares silently at him.

"C'mon, no need to be like that. You can use her after we're done with her, old man. That is- if you can even get it up" He snidely comments

"I'm giving you one chance. Leave, Boy" Growled The Bum

The thug now looking annoyed and significantly less smug.

" Whats that? You think you scare me you WORTHLESS SACK OF SHIT!" He shouts as he gives The Bums shack a strong kick, destroying it over The Bums head.

Shifting the wooden wreckage off of his head, The Bum cant help but find the situation funny.

He, who had commanded a battalion of men. He, who's sorcery had made him a terror on the battlefield. He, who was forged in the fires of the Great Leto-Michivas war, was being looked down upon by this idiotic little yapping dog of a human

Maybe it was the booze still in his system, but he just couldn't help himself, the irony was too much.

"Heh...he..he ..ha-hahahahhahehaHAHAHAHAA" The Bum roars with laughter, holding his sides and shaking.

The thug is taken aback at the odd display.

"This crazy sonofa- hey, you know you're crazy, right old man?"

The thug turns to look at his cronies, who seem just as confused as him. He shrugs and-

*THUD*

The Thug kicks the old man in the temple with the tip of his boot.

 

...The Bum is no longer laughing.