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The Start Of A New Life; short intro-saga complete
Topic Started: Sep 5 2012, 08:35 AM (220 Views)
Makarov
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It had been warm all summer long, granting the Kanassans and all who would visit the normally rather secluded planet, a good and pleasant weather for training, recreation and all other kinds of fun stuff. One of those fun things to do, was sunbathing, something many tourists that went to the healing hotsprings of eckmul enjoyed to do.

Amongst all those tourists and locals that enjoyed the sun and were sunbathing, a small old man was sitting in the sand, a way to large hat covering his head and keeping it safe from the bright light, while his shades covered his lecherous eyes, as they went from side to side, checking each and every piece of uncovered skin of the local or otherworldly beauties he could find.

This old man, who next to watching, to an almost perverse degree, beautiful people, also liked his "every five minute" pint of beer, was known amongst the Kanassans as Makarov, a well respected social person, who thanks to his good connections with the Saljuks and his love for nature's beauty, was loved and cherished by the Kanassans as one of their own, yet he was not one of them by birth.

His youth, as troubled as it was, was something the old man never talked about, neither did he ever mention the name of his homeplanet in any of his discussions with people, nor in any of his tales. The only thing people really knew about him, was the fact that he had a son who one day in the past went about, searching for adventure, but despite the fact that Makarov had been searching for his son for more than fifty years now, he never managed to find him ever again.

It's because of that, that the old man eventually gave up and retreated himself to Kanassa, the only place according to his own opinion, unfethered by petty politics and foolish warfare.

All this was mixed into the package of an small, old and wrinkly man who sat on the beach, trying to restrain his lust while he had a series of nosebleeds when a pair of Avalonian tourist girls walked past him wearing nothing else but an old fashioned, traditional loincloth from one of those far-away planets belonging to the Avalonian Protectorate.

"Sheesh," The old man sighed deeply, before gulping down his entire pint of cool beer. "If I were a bit younger, those girls wouldn't have been so safe from me...heheheh, or was it the way around?"

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Makarov
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Looking up to the warm and bright sun, Makarov wiped away the droplets of blood from his upper lip with a small tissue, before suddenly slapping hard with his right hand against his head.

"Darn, almost forgot my appointment with Master Moot," The old man yelped, as he noticed the time. "Got to hurry up."

In a jiffy, the old man had pulled on his hawaian shirt, taken off his shades and put his feet in his flip flops. With a strong burst of energy, the old man suddenly did something not all those tourists were used to, as he suddenly lifted off the ground and wooshed by those tourist girls from earlier, where he managed to grab a feel before vanishing from sight, leaving them only the sweet sound of his old man's voice.

"Sorry girls," The yell made those girls shreek even harder than the fact they had just been swiftly groped at their booty. "Couldn't resist the offer."

In just a few minutes, Makarov had managed to reach the Temple of Samon, where Master Moot resided, one of the seven Saljuk masters who were sworn to protect the secrets of their order and those who were part of it.

As silent as possible, Makarov tried to sneak inside and switch his hawaian shirt for the more docile clothing of the Saljuks; a simple long brown robe and some sandals, as suddenly the old man heard a voice coming from behind him, forcing him to yelp like a girl, scream like a pig and howl like a dog getting stepped on its tail, all at once...

"AAARGH"

"As I said, Malarov," The Master said after taking a few steps back, his own heart racing and pounding heavily after hearing Makarov's almost innatural scream. "Next time you and I should have a talk about that sneaking of yours."

Makarov turned around to the master, his hand firmly on his chest, while breathing loud and deep. His expression turned from fear to surprise and then dissapointment and he gave an ironic grin to the Saljuk Master.

"You're one to talk," Makarov said seriously. "You're the one who almost gave me a quadruple heart attack."

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Makarov
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Master Moot couldn't restrain a slight chuckle, bringing his hand to his mouth, while giving Makarov a falsely arrogant glare.

"Yes, well," The Master said, while laughing creepily. "As far as I know, I'm still the master of this temple, so I am permited to do as I please in here, while you have to obey every petty little rule I conjure up, even those that make no sense, but just please me to no end."

Makarov couldn't stand this way of talking, but he knew Master Moot for long enough, to know something was wrong, because he and the Saljuk Master got along well from start, from the very moment they had met, they were inseperable, like two brothers.

"I bet you are thinking of a new rule now," The old man suddenly laughed, his hand going up to shake the hand reached out to him by Master Moot. "What's the rule this week?"

The Saljuk master simply laughed again, suddenly giving the old Makarov a nudge at his shoulder, while starting to walk through the halway, greeting other Saljuk members, monks and brothers, while Makarov followed the Master to his private chambers in the temple.

As the two men reached the end of the long corridor they had been walking, Master Moot took out a small bronze key from a pocket hidden in his long yellow robe while making the gesture towards Makarov that the old man had to be silent when entering the Saljuk Master's private chambers.

"Why do I need to be quiet?" Makarov wanted to know, while he slightly hovered upwards, to look the Saljuk straight in the eye for just a moment. "Dont tell me you've got some maitresse hidden inside your chambers, you know how...hmmm."

"What, how dare you!!" The Master Saljuk yelled in surprise after Makarov's rude comment, grabbing the old man by the face, covering the small man's mouth with his scaly hands. "I mean, please old friend, I mean you need to be silent because what I have to tell you is for our ears only. This is no longer a game or a joke. When you enter my chambers, we are in private and certain that there are no eavesdropping people...but certainty first needs confirmation."

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Makarov
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The two old men walked inside the secluded private chambers of Master Moot with dreadful care, checking every nook and corner before they closed the door and Master Moot managed to say a first word after they had entered the room.

"Now please old friend," The Saljuk Master said, this time with an immensely worriful look on his face, as if he was going to tell Makarov something he would never be prepared to hear. "I'd first say that I'll make a pot of herbal tea for you, because what I have to tell you, might change your life dramatically, maybe even to an extend to which you had never thought of being changed ever before."

Makarov's eyes widened, while his firngers started rubbing the big bald spot on top of his head, thinking deeply about what the Saljuk Master said to him. It was hard for him to even imagine what his old friend could've ment by saying such serious things, as if he was going to tell him that the gods never existed or something.

As the Saljuk came back from his small kitchen, carrying a stone wheel with on it; two cups made out of brass, a ceramic teapot and two wooden plates with biscuits, Makarov could not restrain himself from giving the Saljuk Master a strange look, one that showed how much he had been thinking and how frustrated it made him to think about things he could impossibly know.

"So?" Makarov said impatiently. "What can possibly be so bad that you need me to be prepared?"

As the Master placed the stone wheel on the hardwooden table, it was obvious he couldn't stop himself from trembling heavily.

He sat down next to the old and small man, giving Makarov his cup of herbal tea before starting to talk.

"What I am about to say now...let me say I am sorry for you," The master said, his voice croaking while he suddenly seemed to be affraid to say anything to the old man. "You remember those Chaos Wars from a year ago, the war which nearly devestated the Avalonian Protectorate?"

"Ofcourse, yes I've heard of it. Hell, I was glad that Kanassa was safe at that point," Makarov said, trying to lighten the mood a bit, as the invisible and emotional pressure got him irritated. "But what is that important news of yours, come on, spit it out."

The Saljuk Master sighed deeply, while swallowing the last bit of his tea and crunching away the last of the biscuits.

"We're not one hundred percent certain," Moot said calmly, though on the inside of his head and heart, a storm was raging, preparing himself for the hurricane yet to come from within his old friend. "We've found your son."

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Makarov
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Tears of Makarov

A metallic sound could be heard, when the old man dropped his brass cup of tea on the tiled floor of the Saljuk Master's private chambers. Tears welled up in the old man's eyes, while his hands searched for stability, grabbing the Saljuk's sleeves, while looking straight at his old friend.

"Where?" Makarov snickered, almost incapable of saying anything without his throat pressuring his every words. "Where did you find my boy, where is he Moot, please tell me, I need to find him, I need to see him, I need to..."

It didn't last long for Makarov, as he slumped down the couch, having trouble breathing, while his heart was pounding heavily. His hands went up to his chest, while his eyes almost turned away. His tears flowed down his cheeks, while he watched the ceiling, his eyes not noticing the patterns on it, but seeing the long lost years in which Makarov could still remember his son, before his homeplanet vanished, before his son had grown up to go on adventure.

"I need to see him Moot," Makarov stuttered. "I need to go and find him."

"I know you want to see him, my old friend," The Saljuk master said, while grabbing his old friend's hands tightly. "But there is something you need to understand, he is badly hurt, he has been brought in by some of our monks, he said he was looking for Alistair Makarov...which we thought to be you."

Makarov slowly got up again, whiping away the tears from his eyes with his hands. He heard his full name, his real name after such a long time. If anyone would still be able to remember that name, it would have to be his son, the only relative he had left.

"Yes," Makarov suddenly said softly. "I am Alastair Makarov."

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Makarov
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With a mixture of fear, heartbreak and anger, Makarov got himself all the courage he needed to confront the man the Saljuks had identified to be his son. He was affraid because there were so many things he wanted to say and ask, but also because it was that other emotion, his anger,which unwillingly might take the upper hand when he would see his son.

As the doors to the sick bay were opened by Master Moot, giving entrance to the perfectly clean rooms for the sick and the wounded, the old man's heart started to throb with an almost deafening beat, obviously making clear the nervosity that had crept inside the old man's mind.

"Where is he?" Makarov asked with a trembling voice, tears yet again welling up in his eyes. "Can I go see him?"

Master Moot turned to one of the attendants of the sick bay, asking them if it was possible for the old man to see someone. He also mentioned the fact that Makarov was indeed the man mentioned by the wounded young man they had been taking care off after he had arrived a few days earlier.

"Brother Topaz says it is fine to go see him, my friend," The Saljuk master said with care, hoping not to frighten his good old friend too much. "But even so, he will still need to rest a lot, he was not in a very good shape when he arrived."

Makarov walked through the hall, watching the many people who had to rest in their beds, taken care of by the Saljuks in an admirable way. He greeted the many sick and wounded that recognised him as one of the many friends of the Saljuk Order.

He got a big lump in his throat when he reached the doors that would give him entrance to the seperate room where he was expecting to see his son, his flesh and blood which he thought never to see again in his entire life. Yet again his heart started to pound with a loud drum, as he slowly opened the doors...

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Makarov
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As he had just opened the door, Makarov could not foresee what was happening, but before he had just taken one step into the room, his heart almost jumped out of his chest, because in the bed at the center of the room, he could recognise his son immediately, allthough his hair had turned gray over the years, it was still obvious to Makarov; the man lying in the bed was none other than Lucius Makarov, the old man's son.

"Lucius, my son..." The old man whispered silently, trying to wake up the wounded man without frightening him or having to worry about the various serious looking wounds that had been patched up by the Saljuk healers that attended Makarov's son with their good care. "Oh, my son, how I have searched, how I have missed you and now...now you are here with me again."

The man woke up, grunting as he felt the pain in his chest and back, feeling his wounds burn under the various healing balms and cremes, as well as the pressuring bandages all over his body.

"Father, father is that you?" The wounded fellow suddenly spoke, noticing the elderly man crying not far from his bed. "Finally, at last I have found you dad."

Makarov's eyes opened and he jumped towards the man lying in the bed with a great leap. He was glad, so glad that he could finally hold his boy in his arms again, even if his son had grown a lot bigger than he eventually had ever gotten to be.

"My son," Makarov snickered, whiping away his tears as he released his son from his loving grip. "How, what has happened to you to return to me in such a bad shape?"

The man lying in the bed gave a deep grunt as he tried to get up slowly, not trying to rip his bandages or his wounds open again, the healing was far to painful to ever have that kind of pain again unintentionally.

"It's because of how I'm looking right now, that I am glad that I've found you father," Lucius said with a worriful expression on his face. for the past decades, I've been working with a team of adventurers, seeking treasures and ancient artifacts, but not so long ago we stumbled on something we couldn't even start to imagin...we found something that might unlock all the secrets of the universe."

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Lucius explained everything to old man Makarov, about how he managed to join the group of adventurers, about how he eventually managed to become their leader, he even mentioned the fact that Makarov had turned grandfather not all too long ago, but he also said the most important and painful part of his past.

His wife was a demon, killed by a vanquisher who seemed to carry an even darker secret within himself than a demon could ever carry on its own.

Not long after the vanquisher had killed his wife, Lucius tried to track down the vanquisher, but never found the killer again, only hearing but a few rumors on earth about the man responsible for his wife's death, but at the same time, Lucius also lost his son.

He explained how his son had been taken by an unknown, yet strong group of men that had managed to massacre his entire team of adventurers, as well as steal the map and books that would have contained the location of the most valuable artifact of all time.

"Like I told you father," Lucius ended his release. "With that artifact I can end the wars, destroy all the evil in this universe, as well as take back my son, your grandson. If only I werent too weak to resist the urges of power at this very moment, that's why I came for your help. You were always so wise and you knew how to deal with things, please father, help me with this problem."

"I will do this for you my son," Makarov said calmly, giving his son a last hug, before turning around and walking towards the exit of the room. "I will find the killer of your wife; my daughter in law. I will punish the kidnapper of your son, my grandson. I will find those responsible for your pain and they will feel that they have made a grave mistake."

Makarov closed the door behind him, suddenly falling to his knees, as his chest started to burn intensely. A Saljuk monk came to him, to aid him, but Makarov threw him off.

"Where's Master Moot?" He suddenly roared. "We need to talk about learning me some tricks again. Alastair Makarov is going to save his reputation."

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