Becoming Civilized
By Zyflair
By Zyflair
Table of Contents
- Introduction notes (Please read)
- Prologue
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
Author's Notes
I promise you: I'll make this wall of text as short as possible.
So quite some time has passed since my first posted fanfiction here. I've thought over what was good, and what needed to be improved. Keeping that in mind, I finally started once again, but moving away from the large deserts of Kahan and now in a completely new place. The cast is fresh as well, and while it's mostly good, it's also strange, conveying a new world once more.
Starting afresh leaves me back at square one, and unlike the first time I've started, I'm truthfully unsure now; even with preparing for AP Language, even critiquing other writer's, even buying writing guides, I still fear two possible weaknesses: my limitations in vocabulary, as my culture is Asian, and my constant sense of babble and unneeded description. That pretty boils to the worst case scenario of having a messy or nonexistent description. But you haven't even begun to read, so my worries are partially just my paranoia. x3
In this fanfiction, I decided to experiment with quests/character development and themes. Despite my lacking attempts, I'm still heavily influenced by my roleplaying times, and it's probably going to stay for some time. And the main character, after much consideration, will hopefully be much better. Now that I've run out of ammo to ramble about, there's just a bit of background information before the actual story.
About the Writer
Luca Rallon the Luxray was born in Salemn, bordering Kahan's south. Her skills in socerery are widely known and she is considered one of the most prominent persons in the continent. Another well-known trait of hers is her unwavering attention to detail; she picture settings from even bare details with constant inference and is trained to read body language. Rumors have it she can possibly even read minds though never proven. However, despite her power and riches gained from shrewd entrepreneurship, she prefers to be in quiet settings for peace. Her favorite place is her own personal library, filled with documents of her travels. In her quest for undiscovered history, she secretly ventures south, ready to face dangers along the way. But this story is not about her. Of who we'll find out.
A notice for the following dialogue in both the prologue and the epilogue: because it can be inferred the language spoken is foreign in a more primitive setting, the following word choice Luca uses as a translation is skewed to reflect more educated tastes.
~~~~~Prologue~~~~~
I readjusted my dark green cameo hat - as an unnoticed, nearby vine knocked it off balance - with my left paw, as my right gripped the custom-made cleaver tightly. Slashing through the mess of the jungle undergrowth blocking my path, the machete still glimmered as it dashed through the air, despite the dearth of sunlight around. The cut stalks bent and fell to the ground as nothing supported them anymore, revealing what stood ahead: legions more of the lush flora, determined in halting my progress. But with machete in paw, I pushed on. Pushed on in the depths of the jungle.Resuming the trek, I exhaled hot breaths, as my fur suffered in the intense heat, unable to sweat in the humid atmosphere. Leather boots hugged tightly around my sore feet, which had not rested for the past five miles. In fact, my entire body had been sapped of strength from the test of endurance; despite the training, my back and shoulders started to ache from the heavy load my pack held, my right arm starting to shake from the constant use of the machete, my mind completely bored of the constant display of verdant scene in front of me. But I knew my destination was in sight, close by. Another hour, I told myself. Another hour.
Though time dragged on by, my awareness did not wither, as to do so would be a grave error in a place like this. Too many lurking hazards were easily capable of catching the unprepared.
As if to prove my point, a sliver of metal dashed out of a nearby brush, barely missing my neck as I stepped and leaned back out of reflex. The sharp weapon continued to zip through the air until coldly halted by the dense trunk of an old tree. Now clearly visible, the iron projectile was coated by a bright liquid, oozing onto the bark.
I turned to face approximately where the attacker was, swinging my machete in circles before gripping it.
"Show yourself and there will be no harm for either of us."
Silence took its reign. I waited cautiously for a response. An unknown amount of time passed before I heard:
"Drop your weapon."
Slightly impatient, I immediately complied, letting go of the blade. From the corner of my eye, I saw it land on the solid ground, the resulting clatter muffled by the moist dirt. Even still, the attacker did not disclose his or her location, much less even coming out.
"Turn around and raise your hands."
"I'm not coming like a prisoner," I scoffed, my irritation worsening the already-dreadful accent in my speech. Another long period of silence implied either communication with another hidden person... or a stalling attempt for backup.
"What do you want?"
"I wish to speak to a person of your tribe. She was originally an outsider before she joined among you."
Rather than another delayed answer, echoes of whispered speech reached my ears from several directions. I was surrounded, but at least the situation clearly favored me; I had their attention. The advantage, however, was that of an unstable ladder - improperly grounded - as a shortcut to the top; a wrong step and I'd fall back to the ground.
"What do you wish of her?"
"Nothing but answers. I have come to find a truth, and she has exactly just that."
"Nothing more?"
"Nothing more."
"Will you come blind?"
"I will not reveal anything about you. Not a word will pass from my lips about this encounter or anything after."
"Lies. The other that came promised the same. They told others and they came, and they killed."
So much noise. Hissing from others, filled with hatred. Audible twitching, most likely of malice, of desires to rid themselves of the outsider. Momentary pausing of sound for the one reply in an attempt to convince them. Then... Lone sighing, deep in the faith of my only trump card.
"They do not know your language. I am not like them. I am no enemy. I do not bear savage fangs to you. Look at my eyes; they do not hold a spirit as cruel, as evil, as theirs. I, come as a friend."
"How did you come to learn of us then?"
"I will not say unless all listening promise to not reveal anything about how I came to know."
"... we promise."
"How I knew was nothing short of fate. I am truly one of you, but in a different body. I am a reincarnated."
The bushes whispered among themselves in hushed tones. No doubt they believed in this phenomenon. When the bushes and vines rustled, when their presence were no longer masked, a tiring yet exhilarating wave of relief passed through my aching body. My lie would last for the trip....
The first half of the battle won. I could only hope the second half would be easier.
~~~~~~~~~~
At the journey's end with the natives (who fortunately demanded that I hand over the pack), I observed in mild awe of the their large village's distinct trait: harmony with nature; all of the dwellings - rather than built from scratch after clearing the land - were part of the surroundings. Ancient towering trees bore large vacancies. These vacancies served as resident homes, good stores, storage facilities, a few other I failed to identify as I continued to follow my guides. Artificial wooden platforms, connected to the ground by rope ladders and to other neighboring platforms by plank bridges, hung over our heads, leading me to wonder if the village's upper floor held wonders distinct from the lower (ground) level.Though not as plentiful as the various plants, people moved through the small pathways; children ran and yelled and laughed, men fixed anything with a hole in it and came back with the game of wild, women carried out the various housekeeping tasks (which I shall not attempt to list). Many stared at me in wonder, slightly in fear in some of them. Who was this outsider? What is she here for?
They led me to the edge of the village, to a large rock base, large double doors possibly leading to a cave dwelling. I hesitated, wondering if a trap laid ahead, but regardless, if I backed out now, everything I've done would be for naught; all of that planning, that traveling, would be for nothing. No. Can't have that second-guessing now. I walked in as they opened the doors.
The spacious room had little lighting; in fact, the only source of light inside were a few torches at the very end of the other side. The interior somewhat resembled that of a church; rows of wooden benches lined up facing to the lighted end. At the end was a desk, ornately decorated with carved designs, cloth, and jewelry. The Leafeon seated at it was just as decorated: gold necklaces, diamond earrings, and bracelets of various gems, all of that and more on her. She looked up at us like she had just woken up, though her eyes were clearly awake and sharp.
"Who is she?"
"She wishes to talk to you."
"Privately," I dared to add. She narrowed her eyes, studying me. I glimpsed her lazily-wagging tail, pondering about me.
"Very well. Leave and close the doors." They nodded to the demand and left, making the place almost pitch-black as I heard the doors bang and rattle when closing. I slowly walked down to her. She kept her eyes on me.
"How did you come here? Did you come by yourself?"
"I walked all the way here by myself. They took my pack for safety," she nodded. "Your name is Laria, correct?" Another nod. I sat down, not breaking eye contact. "What are you doing in this cave?" She smiled at the question.
"I run the tribe now." She chuckled at my surprise. "So what have you come for, fellow outsider?" Best to get to the point.
"Truth. I want to hear your story." Her eyes slightly rose in curiosity
"It would be biased."
"Not as much as the others," I countered. "You sound rational, and to see you here... I can tell I won't be disappointed with what you have to say."
"Hm... what will you do with my personal tale if I give it?"
"It is a personal journey of mine. It will only be released to the public when the time is right."
"When the time is right?"
"Even now, censorship on this is so tight. Everything public implies or even states that the 'savages' killed you." The emotional bait worked as I caught her briefly baring her fangs in anger.
"Very well... I'll tell, outsider. If you've come this far to clear the fog of lies, I will certainly help you."
I smugly grinned to myself and pulled out a concealed notebook (from the large pockets of my pants), a convenient - though small - pen tucked inside. My wrist flexed for the task ahead.
The torches slowly burned as I recorded this story to the best of my speed and memory.
