Aura's In Depth Look

[HellRaven Aura]

My, scroll paper does not seem to do so well for documenting. Perhaps Esme was right and I should have just used her book. Stubborn old me argued that such an important account could not be put in the hands of an skeptic girl such as herself! But to be honest I am simply bluffing.

Now let me see, I am an oral story teller, so excuse and mispelling and bad grammar. I had not written in such a long time that Esme's constant complaining actually seemed legit. Well, I seem to be straying away from why I am really writing.

As I said I am a storyteller, and a damn good one, if I say so myself! But to be a good storyteller you must travel alot and meet many people. My life threw me into this path that became perfect for becoming a storyteller.

When I was thirteen, I lived in a small town, near the province of Yucatan. Being completely honest, I do not really remember where the town I was born in is exactly, all I know its somewhere in the area. I was born into a poor family, fairly common at the time. My family left early, or so I tell myself. I am not sure whether I was sold for a few loafs of bread or promised into marriage or some third option. All I know is that my first true memory is of a rainy day, an odd occurance in that place, it was rainig cats and dogs and I sat inside a box. I was small enough to do so.

My secondary memories are more vivid, and they haunt my head, squirming between the stories I wish to tell to the world and the stories I wish no one else would have to carry. One of the drier days, I walked around the town looking for a few crumbs to eat, the ground was so hot my bare feet complained. But every inch of my body complained it always did, so I made my way around.

Even as a Child I had a nack for listening in, and today's gossip revolved around a man having escaped from the jail. He was a robber of sorts that stole from the wrong purpose and was put in jail till his death sentence came.I tucked the story away, I would tell myself this stories when I was back in a box or Something.

Night fell and I did just that, sat in my old box telling myself stories. Had a riot not made come out my life would have never changed. I crawled out, to see torches light the night, indignant yells shattered the silense and the smell of fresh blood stained the purity of the field air. I moved aside as men and women rushed past yelling curses to deaf ears.

I wonder what it was all about as they moved away. A "pst" made me turn around. By a corner a man crouched in the dusk,"Come here."
To make the long story short the man asked of me to lead him out of the town. I saw in his blue eyes he was not from around here, not many people carried that gene around here, what harm would a little help do?

I did as asked and led him to the nearby stream, and told him to head upriver, that if the stories didn't lie there would be a town some twenty miles ahead. He thanked me and ran off. I shook the small incident off my shoulder and wen to return to my box,but the crowd from earlier intersected me half way there. They interrogated me, about who had I been with and the like. Accusiations rained and the hungry torches that had looked for a man escaped from jail turned on me.

I had helped the man escaped...They chased me out of town. Who would protect the homeless girl? That extra spot on the ground that was so useless? I was badly beat by rocks and other thrown items, I think they saw me as dead when I collapse a bit out of the town.

I woke up time later, and I managed to drag myself down river. I staid by the shrubs and waited for my bruises to heal enough so tha I could walk. When this happened, I made my mind to walk out of there with my pride,and not to set a foot on that townthat mistreated me ever again.

The next two years are not important. I learned that making money by selling words was a more honorable way than stealing or prostitution. I got paid well and I did what I loved.

Once, after some years of travel I cam by an old town, I walked past, noone there would care for my stories. On my way out I passed by an orphanage, an old run down place. Lucky kids, they had a roof, all I had was a box! But well the place did not look to good...Anyway, as I walked by the fence, I noticed a girl hunched over herself, a couple of kids crowded around.

The leader of the groul smacked the books the girl had been craddling out of her arms (i had been oblivious of them to the point),a stream of insults followed. The girl silently crounched down to pick up her beat books, as she did so a kick hit her acroos the face, and she fell to the side.

I saw in her limpsness she was either used to it or she had guven up hope. In a rush of adrenaline I jumped the orphange fence in one go, and ran to drop oick the bully. (Hehee I must have looked quiet awesome) The group backed off as their bully ran off crying for her mommy (rest in peace). The group ran off.

I looked down at the girl,she had pushed herself up to pick up her books. Once again I will fast foward the emotional talk, she told me her name was Umbria (and I thought Lazuli was weird) and that she was used to the bullying and she didnt need help. The typical teenager stuff, I had never one through that even if I was just sixteen at the time. I told her not to stand for it, and in some urge I told her to run away.

Some more emotional stuff and I convinced her to come with me. I stuffed her books in my bag and helped her jump the fence,before I followed.

After that things where all traveling, she changed her name to Esmeralda, and we discovered we were like the sun and moon. So endessly diffrent but with a need for each other.

In any case I regret nothing that happened, and my life just got more intresting as I entered the world of the mercenaries, but that is a story still being written.