Damien H. Buckler

Your character has just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As they look around, their gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. They duck and step into a tattered tent, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the tent, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town? She begins, then pauses to study your face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a cushion, “Tell me your story.” Damien shrugs half-heartedly. Honestly? I am just wandering a little. I need a place to stay for the night and the ferryman said this is the only place for m-- The man quirked his head to the side as the woman claimed to be expecting him. He looks around as if to see is she was talking to anyone else before pointing a finger at his chest. "Uhhhh -- Me?" Without the crone before him giving any indication that she was talking to anyone else, he shrugs and takes a seat. "Welllllll -- since you asked so nicely; I'll tell you! It all starts at my birth. It was under a full moon and an owl perched--" “Well, after pulling your leg there… I could tell you a BIT about myself.” He taps a finger against his lips mischievously… “ It all starts with… A little boy who had a dream a very long time ago. He dreamt of living with all of his friends and family forever. Now, most children would let go of this dream; plenty would even think immortality was a curse rather than a dream.” He raised a finger up conspiratorially, leaning forward, “However, this boy never let go of his dream!" He gave the old crone a smile before continuing on. “Throughout his childhood, others considered him pretty mediocre. His life growing up wasn’t anything grandiose by any means, besides changing his name and what to call him when he was young. That wasn’t that unusual in the boonies he grew up in either so nobody batted an eye when the Bucklers now had a son. However, he didn’t have a throne or a magic-filled lineage to inherit — Although…” He leaned forward and cupped a hand to his face and spoke in a stage whisper, “One thing did stand out about the young man — * his luck!*” He slammed his hands on the table excitedly " “Whether it be a throw of dice or a game of dominoes – he’d be on top. The name of this slightly lucky fellow was Damien." He presses a hand to his chest proudly, "The young boy won so many bets that every casino, road-side dice shake, and even every bar kicked him out. Most knew him as a cheat that was just never caught. (Not true by the by).” He added that last part with a roll of his eyes. “However, this boy had a dream beyond being lucky. Once, he grasped tightly within his heart; he wanted to find someone who could learn the name of life itself and hold dominion over it like the men in the storybooks his mother and father read him!” He then lowered his head a bit, his face flushing as he mentioned his parents. “Yet… he was still so young, still climbing into his parents’ bed whenever he was too upset to stop crying. It was where he was safest, between their bodies and comforting, loving words. Damien soon became a teenager and could enroll in the university. He was studying naming as if his life depended on it. He wasn’t gifted or special, but he worked hard. Exceptionally hard. Why did he work so hard, one may ask?” He looked around again as if anyone would listen, “He wanted to hire a mage to find the cure to aging. That then leads to another why—a man so young shouldn’t worry about such things! Simple, his parents. Why would someone want to be made immortal and then also be old? That would be a terrible existence; and his parents didn’t have much time before he could prevent such a fate…” His jovial spirit always seemed to die, his eyes always losing their glimmer every time he mentioned them. “He thankfully escaped the ones he “cheated” and made a decent living off of gambling. Damien kept to himself outside his bets and didn’t seem to have time for anything besides his studies (his mother always said a decent man was an educated man) and or money. Frankly, the man was painfully average in everything except his hardworking nature.” He gave the woman a flex, he didn’t have much to show before lowering his bicep— “The young man, however, was no better than some lukewarm soup that might hold an extra chunk of meat more times than not. Whenever he returned home, though, his parents always treated him exceptionally; even into his late teens, he sought comfort from them when things became difficult. They were his one and only lifeline; until she came along.” His face twisted a little, his face flushing a bit further. “He shot… her glances,” Damien said non-committally, waving away the words as they spilled from his lips, “And she giggled… in his general direction.” He coughed to hide the embarrassment in his voice, “While he was average, this young woman, her name lost to time — she was simply exceptional. His heart raced every time he saw her. He could feel his heart rate shoot to the skies when she was near, and she adored every second of it. Damien was fun to tease one way or another; and she couldn’t help but adore him. The young lady gave him a chance after some time of his yearning for her. He didn’t press her like most of her male classmates did. He respected her as a fellow student rather than a female student. The city he resided in for his studies was different compared to his home – they cared much more about what you were rather than who you were. There was a difference; “student” was a predominantly male field in this place as well, and people would respect female students simply for being.” His face twisted into a grimace again, the man held his heart on his sleeve! He couldn’t control his facial expressions even if his life depended on it. “This wasn’t enough for the young woman. She was exceptional, and she had to let everyone know it.” At this point, Damien didn’t look up at the crone — perhaps afraid of some unspoken judgment. “His time with her was a blur, a joyful, colorful blur. However, like a carnival ride. Her warmth was just as comforting as the warmth he shared with his parents. The only complaint he could think of was that it was a bit embarrassing that she was also tutoring him, and he would’ve probably flunked out of the academy if it wasn’t for her. However, with a single letter, this wonderful ride, the experience of love, the comfort he felt — everything stopped. While he was having fun, his parents wrote to him.” He gripped his hands into fists as he looked down at the wooden table, “They both… Fell ill and merely wanted to see him again. Time passed too quickly; now eight-teen, the man was rushing home. He hasn’t seen his parents since he went and studied under the great scholars. Damien’s forgetting his goal completely devastated him. What would his younger self think? They were so old now, so frail. Their son stared at them from the doorway, the final day he spent with them etched into his mind.” His curly hair now covered his face — seemingly hiding his expression as he continued, “He was mumbling apologies at the foot of the bed as his parents held him near them. He was still their thin, not-so-short-anymore little boy.” Damien held a hand up and wound his wrist around like he was listing things, “They managed with their meager strength to pull him into bed and have them all sleep together for the last time. He knew no medicine or tonic could cure old age. An extra chunk of meat in your meal wouldn’t heal years of living, after all. Their illness was simply time, not stopping, for their bodies to recover. When he woke up, they were dead. He buried them in tears and with grief in his heart. He had to focus once more.” He slammed a fist into the desk again before pausing for a breath and continuing, “He never spoke to that woman again either. The one who distracted him from his focus. He blamed her, not to her face — but in his heart, he blamed her for his parents dying. For his distracted nature. Damien blamed that dashing woman for it all. Maybe he would’ve graduated sooner and got a well paying job for that mage he wanted if he was self-taught and didn’t rely on her tutelage, or perhaps he simply wanted to be upset and blame someone. Either way, he stopped sending letters; and soon after he did, she stopped writing to him as well. He left his academy of learning as soon as he graduated and made it from his dingy island to a new world. One of magicians and lessons not even that bright young woman he fell for could tutor him about.” He then looked up and gave the Crone a smile. “Just kidding ~~ I am just some random kid from the boonies and my parents are alive and well! Thanks for the free food, though!” He snatched up all the crackers in the jar before him. Despite his words — His eyes seemed to tell another story. Maybe he embellished some of the details but… A wiser fellow could see through such a poor disguise of joy.