Forsaken Fields: Backstory: Empty Field, Empty Head

Published May 24, 2024, 4:14:07 AM UTC | Last updated May 24, 2024, 4:14:07 AM | Total Chapters 8

Story Summary

The adventures of the druid, Lock, and the lost and destroyed Keys. Danger lurks around corners shrouded in lost memories. 

At least there are good drinks and good company to be had as Thomas joins them in searching for answers about their intertwined fates. 

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Chapter 8: Backstory: Empty Field, Empty Head

Warnings - Severe injuries, bloodloss, unconsiousness, nudity (nonsexual), unfair treatment of a gravely injured person 

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He was unconscious. 

Well, he had been until he’d had that thought. Now he was awake. 

Awake was struck by so many sensations at once that he gasped, twitching and arching his back, a gargled moan escaping bloody lips. 

He was in SO MUCH PAIN! 

Pain feebly twitched and sobbed against the cold… were those plants?... under him. Pain felt something smooth slide off his chest and to the ground next to him as he ached and cried. 

He was completely miserable. 

Miserable was bleeding, cold, hungry, something was wrong with his back, something was wrong with his eye, something was wrong with his head. 

Miserable finally calmed down, searching blindly for what had fallen off of his chest. He curled his hand around the small figure, now cold metal as it lost his body heat to the cold ground, like an offering to the earth, right along with the blood that leaked over his skin and into the dirt. 

Miserable opened his eyes. Well, eye. He only got one open, he was pretty sure, and his vision was cloudy and moved slightly. 

He groaned, reaching up to his face. Blood trickled down his inner elbow as he touched his face, a stinging cut making itself known on his nose. Miserable moved towards the eye that hadn’t opened, looking to see if it was just gunked up or something. 

The mess that met his fingers, the indent in his face…. He didn’t have an eye there. 

He threw his hand back down like he’d burned himself. 

He only had one eye. 

One Eye drew in deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. He turned his head to his other hand, pulling the metal object up to where he could see it. It was a metal token, a round bulb on top of an upside down L shaped block. It gave him the sense of a one armed person somehow. 

One Eye grunted, trying to sit up. Wounds burned across his body, sticks jabbing in at new angles as he did so. He needed to get up. He had to find….. Help? Yes, he needed to find help. He would bleed out and die. 

He froze for a moment, sitting hunched as his back screamed in pain at him. Die? He could die? Well, everyone could die. Did he care about death? Something inside of himself screamed at the idea of leaving, of dying. Another part of himself was tired and wanted the pain to just go away. 

He didn’t have time to think about it. One Eye turned, getting to his knees. He hissed, discovering that one knee was particularly shredded. 

He was almost completely torn all over. What was one knee in the face of that?

Torn got up to his feet, stumbling and clutching at the metal totem like his life depended on it. After all, it might. 

He looked out across the field he was in with his one eye, blood pouring down his face and across his lips from the other one. Torn spotted lights across the field and he limped at a careful walk through the wheat. He didn’t focus on how much distance he had to cover, only focusing on taking one step at a time. The pain lanced through his body as plants brushed his cuts and deeper aches made themselves known, but he moved as quickly as he could manage without worrying about falling over. Falling over would really really just make this whole situation much worse. 

He stumbled over the small rises and falls in the field, finally coming to a halt at the edge of the field where there was a canal filled with water. It wasn’t moving that fast, but he couldn’t tell how deep it was, and it wasn’t safe to let all that water into his cuts. Besides, Torn didn’t think he’d have the energy to get back out on the other side. 

So, looking around one more time and tightening his hold on his totem so much that it began to hurt his hands, he followed the edge of the field, stumbling over sticks, rocks, and sharp plants before he reached the small bridge that led out of the field. Then, he walked down the road back to the lights. 

It occurred to him as he approached the town that he was naked, but there really wasn’t much he could do about that. 

Naked was beginning to flag now, legs feeling like jello underneath him, and he only just barely made it into the light around the town when they gave out. 

He crumpled to the ground, shivery and sick with pain. He drew in ragged gasps of air, the vision around his good eye starting to fade in and out. Maybe a break would help. Just a small break. A quiet break where he could put his tired, aching head down on the cobbles and regain his strength. 

Yeah. That was a good idea. 

Naked awoke to being dragged across the stones, cold and empty. He struggled to get his feet under him, but he was as weak as a newborn, only succeeding in letting people know he was alive. 

And they exclaimed about it loudly enough that it jilted his new headache and made him whine. He didn’t have to endure it long as sleep took him again even as he was being lifted and carried roughly in a new direction. 

…………………………..

Alive woke again eventually, this time warm and swathed in so many bandages it was almost impressive. 

“Good morning,” someone said, and Alive turned his head so he could see the man from his good eye. The bandages over the other half of his face nearly made even that impossible, nevermind how carefully and thickly wrapped the ones around his throat were. Was his throat injured? It must have been, though he couldn’t remember. 

The man, blonde with somewhat strangled facial growth, gave Alive a bit of a look. Waiting. He was waiting. Why was he waiting? Had he asked Alive a question? Alive ignored that line of thought and went back to cataloging the damage, gently lifting the blanket to look at how many bandages there really were. 

“Can you speak?” the man asked. 

That was a question Bandaged could actually answer. “Yes,” he croaked. His throat was dry. He tried to see if there was any water, but couldn’t find anything with his limited field of view. 

“Good,” the man said with a grin. “I’m Kyte. I’m the doctor here in town. We thought you were dead, honestly. Would have buried you if you hadn’t-”

“Water?”

The doctor seemed a little annoyed that Thirsty had interrupted him, but he reached out and procured a glass of water, leaning forward to help Thirsty drink it. 

Satisfied sighed when he finished, nodding his thanks. 

“Now, what’s your name, Stranger? Did bandits accost you on your way here?”

Stranger opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. He hesitated, letting his scrambled mind catch up, but still nothing happened. He frowned. He was…. In a field. Yeah. He remembered that. And he hurt…. But he couldn’t remember why he hurt. 

Kyte’s eyes darkened a little. “What put you in that state? We won’t allow for criminals to stay in these parts, ya hear?”

“No,” Stranger said in a whisper to keep from being in too much pain. “Hold on. I just need….. A moment.”

He thought hard, trying to bring up anything else. “I….. can’t remember.”

“Well, okay… where are you from? Your name?”

Stranger shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t remember….. Anything. I woke up in a field…. I know how to speak…. I know that bleeding too much would kill me…..”

Stranger shook his head again and Kyte frowned. “That’s not good. You probably took a good bump to the head.”

Stranger nodded slightly. “Mm….. I had something with me. Metal. Totem, I think.”

Kyte, strangely, seemed vaguely disappointed as he said, “Ah, yes. I’ll get it for you.”

He left and came back with the totem, putting it in Stranger’s bandaged hands. He looked down at it for a long moment, trying to clear his mind and let the item draw thoughts in, but again, nothing came. 

“Do you recognize it?” Stranger asked. 

Kyte shook his head. “Can’t say I do.”

Stranger hummed. He tucked it into the crook of his arm, not wanting to let go of it, whatever it was. 

“Alright. You’re a strange one,” Kyte commented. “Have some more water and rest. Then we will need to talk about your payment.”

“Payment?” Stranger asked.

“Yes. For the services I’ve rendered and for the bandages and food you’ll be needing of course.”

“I don’t have…. Money.”

“That’s why we’ll need to discuss payment,” Kyte said cheerfully. “You can work it off, I’m sure.”

Stranger doubted it. His back hurt just laying there. 

“Unless you want to give up that totem there.”

Stranger looked down at the totem and then at Kyte, and shook his head. Looks like he’d have to work it off. 

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Comments

  • May 25, 2024, 2:15:33 AM UTC
    -GASP- stars and supernovas the angsty backstory is here!! I love your storytelling style aahh~ especially how his name/identity keeps switching with the new labels, and also this mister doctor Kyte sir is ish suspishish, he better not pull any tricks >:\

    Keys awww what disastrophe were you the unfortunate target of, have some virtual hugs *pat pat there there*
    • May 25, 2024, 3:05:49 AM UTC
      AHHHH thank you for reading! And he ish very suspishish ngl. We do not trust him