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Arturur's Destiny (Short Stories) (IN PROGRESS)

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Arturur's Destiny (Short Stories) (IN PROGRESS)

Post by RabidFox » Sun May 14, 2017 6:37 pm

Arturur's Destiny


The following short stories take place on a planet much like Earth. They occur during an era with both Victorian and modern elements. All characters are daemons: Humanoid people with pointy ears, fangs, claws, and commonly spiky hair. All of the stories tie together to form one single, interconnecting story.

Part of the Doctor Arturur series. Arturur's Destiny is the prequel to the original series.



(IN PROGRESS)


Pronunciations

Daemon (DAY-MUHN)
Arturur (AR-CHUR-ER)
Yagrius (YAY-GREE-UHS)
Asterterkin (AHS-TER-TER-KIN)
Alysius (UH-LEE-SEE-UHS)
Sasawich (SAW-SUH-WICH)
Osgulliov (AWS-GUHL-LEE-UHV)
Rayon (RAY-AWN)


Next in the Series

The Coming of Arturur


Complete List of Books in the Doctor Arturur Series

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Re: Arturur's Destiny (Short Stories) (IN PROGRESS)

Post by RabidFox » Thu Jul 13, 2017 7:04 pm

The Prologue
Imagine a world of silence. Between you and all other people is a wall of speech. They have no idea that they are saying something extremely important that is getting lost behind this wall. It's their lives, their guarded secrets, their special memories. Open for anyone to see if they could just think like the young Prince of Warren and Alastair, Arturur.

Arturur is a mischievous white pixie, and, in comparison to other daemons, he is just a kid. Physically an adult, Arturur is only in his late twenties, which is nothing when many, many daemons are thousands of years old. He is a doctor, a school teacher, and a priest. He is also a soldier. To Warren, he is the first multifaceted Prince in a very long time.

However, he is a headmaster, and headmasters can lose their minds to a special illness that affects only this group of superior teachers. So he has been hidden away from his own people, and sent to live in the little fishing village of Wendell. In this place, Arturur has lived his whole life being cared for by Jamal, King of the Peasants, and his land of colourful people. Yet Arturur has finally come of age, and now must return to the place of his birth... the ruling nation of Warren.

But he is still very ill and, in his constant everyday life, Arturur thinks in the very lowest of fundamentals and therefore his mind is separated from all other people. He comes to Warren with what is both a gift and a curse. He can hear and understand people's most hidden thoughts, the words lost on the owner as well as everyone else. It is psychology, and it is deeply embedded where others can not analyse. But Arturur can analyse these realities, and that is part of what makes him so special. However, the young Prince has great difficulty pulling apart the most normal of conversations, a consequence from being able to think so fundamentally. This leaves him unable to understand even the most basic of things.

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Re: Arturur's Destiny (Short Stories) (IN PROGRESS)

Post by RabidFox » Mon Jul 17, 2017 6:41 pm

Clear, Rippling Waters


Arturur never felt completely happy. There was always something getting in the way. Wendell used to simply do whatever he said. But as time marched on and he grew older, they began to see something inside of him that just wasn't right. Or at least, that was what they believed.

Alastair was a world within a world. All kinds of vastly different cultures were spread over the land. People wearing different clothes, speaking different languages, protecting different beliefs... And somewhere deep inside this world was a village called Wendell.

In it lived the King of the Peasants, his wife, and children. And encircling them were highly ranked families that had immense power over the government. After that they were surrounded by all sorts of different wealthy families, who also possessed a lot of power. Some of these people were soldiers, some of them wise men, others expert fishermen—A group of people that were very valuable to that particular culture—and even still more walks of life. There was a careful balance to the order of the world, and Wendell was no exception. However, Arturur would beg to differ.

He always felt very alone all lost inside his own head. And in that mind of his there were many attempts by others to control what was abnormal. But it didn't really matter, not in the end. There was little conscious thought that actually broke the more serious rules, and it was done in such moderation that even that didn't really matter either.

Arturur had mourned his father and mother all of his life. It was like they were dead. He had never met them, and everything that made a Prince a Prince had been stolen away by the fear of the Headmaster's Illness. He had spent all of his days under the care of Jamal, King of the Peasants, and his very overprotective family. In fact, everyone was overprotective of him in every rank. He was, afterall, royalty. And then... he was a very special man. A very weak man. Despite all of Arturur's determination to make things better, he did not have the strength to push and he did not have the strength to take care of anyone, including himself. But that just made him all the more charismatic.

Wendell had so much power. They controlled all of the peasants. But there were even more powerful people in Alastair. Warren, of course, the home of "Kings and Queens", the highly ranking moderators, and the very, very wealthy business owners. Then there was the wisest of all wise men... the Great Order, who no one wished to defy, including Warren, despite its own towering status over all. After Wendell, there were the manor houses that were scattered all over the land. The people that lived in them were tasked by their superiors to watch over the peasant villages.

And all of this, all of Alastair... was one day destined to be handed down from father to son, and Arturur would then rule it all. It made the young daemon nervous. How could he ever rise to such expectations? That question bothered him time and time again. How could he ever be as good of a King as his father? And then... the idea of being a father himself, the idea of having his own children that he would have to raise to be Kings and Queens of their own... It was enough to make him feel so very, very small.

It would be a challenge. Life was already a challenge. The whole thing just baffled him.

Soon Arturur would be sent home. He would meet his family, the other nobles, the other residents of Warren. He didn't know how he could cope with such an overwhelming thing. All he wanted to do was run far away, so far that no one would be able to find him. Perhaps he could disappear in the shadows? But, of course, such aggressive men would never allow that to happen. He would be stuck with his own kind. People that could control him. It was terrifying.

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Re: Arturur's Destiny (Short Stories) (IN PROGRESS)

Post by RabidFox » Tue Jul 18, 2017 6:23 pm

The Last Man to Stand, Stands Alone


The young Prince was a very tall man. Daemon didn't get any taller than him. He had white, spiky hair, with pale blue eyes and a mischievous smile. Long, pointy ears twitched in excitement, his arms crossed over his chest with a confidence bordering on arrogance. He wore a long, white coat—The staple of the white pixie race. He was a doctor of psychology.

Arturur stood on the top of a very high hill overlooking the outskirts of Wendell. Flowers were rich all over the area, above and below. The grass reached up his legs, and the sky had a warm, fulfilling colour to it. He watched the fishermen coming into the village from the lake to the west. They carried long, wooden poles with fresh fish dangling off of hooks. A few young apprentices raced to catch up with the older men, having become distracted with some thing or another. They didn't help carry the fish, as it was forbidden for anyone other than a full fisherman to even so much as touch the poles.

The white pixie hated fishing. He knew how, he was a full blown fisherman... but he didn't like it. Jamal was always trying to get him out of fishing duties. It was not because Arturur lacked affection for the profession. It was because Jamal couldn't stand hearing Arturur's incessant complaining. However, a multifaceted Prince needed a lot of variety when it came to his education, and fishing was a very important tool to some of the wisest men in Alastair. In other words, Jamal had no choice but to suffer Arturur's absolute refusal to enjoy such a thing.

The young man did love to get his hands dirty, as long as it didn't involve countless hours lost to sitting by the lake. He would farm. He would hike. He would camp. He would play sports. He would even manually build houses and sheds and playground equipment when really the only objects needed for creating large structures was a pen, a scanner, and a computer. However, many people found a lot of fun in bundles of wood, and the white pixie was one of them. Pretty much anything was fine as long as he didn't have to craft a hook.

But in the end, he was a psychologist, and that was what he was most of the time. And a school teacher and a priest, of course. And a soldier. The last occupation being something that his father would definitely not understand. Arturur had been told that specifically by Alysius, a blue-haired trouble maker that knew his father personally. Yet, for all it was worth, Arturur had trouble trusting the Guardian.

A Guardian was a daemon that lived on the Edge, and had grown very old. In their superior age, they watched over the younger generations, but were, however, still too young to join the Old Ones. The Old Ones were the masters of all. There was no such thing as truly defying them. In their great, infinite wisdom, such daemons merely had to wrap a young man with carefully chosen words and overwhelm him with a manipulative understanding of psychology. Yet that did not mean that clever men like Arturur could not do something out of the ordinary. Once you got that old, you understood that young people must be allowed to make mistakes, otherwise they would never genuinely learn their lessons.

After everything was considered, Arturur still believed that he knew things that were even beyond those who lived on the Edge, as well as the great Old Ones themselves. It earned him a lot of mockery and sadness. People desperately wanted him to simply submit. He was the most normal man in the world, and his adopted village felt like it got to him. Not in an arrogant sort of way, but like a puzzle that only one man could solve.

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