Post by Deleted on Jul 14, 2011 7:17:17 GMT -5
If one were to observe Winchester Island from above for a while, it would not be strange to compare it to a yin-yang. In fact it would be a very apt metaphor. On the one hand, to the east of the separating wall the island was a place of order, a place of structure, a place that reflected its marine dominance. To the west of the wall however, the opposite story is told. This is a place of lawlessness, of chaos, of pirates. These two factions separated by stone make this island a much contested place, a collision of lifestyles from different sides of the spectrum. Above all else though, to those who would see their own justice done, this was a place of convenience.
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A pair of fierce, reddish eyes burst open as there owner bolted up right into a sitting position. His expression was one of wild terror, his hands shot towards his own throat, grasping furiously at, at, at... skin. Relief washed over Oaklan, every morning it was the same story. This was his second week in Winchester; he’d been napping beneath a tree located on the east side of the wall. A spot he’d grown rather partial too. Standing slowly the half Shandian took in the sight of the leaves above him and the sky above that, he breathed in deeply, filling himself with air; with natures sweet scent and at that moment he allowed himself an uncharacteristic smile, it lasted but a moment.
Moving his hands into his pockets the wannabe bounty hunter made his way awkwardly through the morning crowds, brushing passed the citizens who were busy doing their remedial, pointless tasks, wasting their freedom, doing nothing of consequence. His disdainful eyes looked across them one by one, a few looked back – after all with his olive skinned complexion, reddish eyes and white hair, Oaklan stood out. He always had. His wings were folded in, invisible to those who weren’t looking for them, which was unexpectedly everyone. Between them lay his sheath, a thin long sword he’d recently acquired on one of his visits to the islands west side.
In a lot of respects Oaklan reflected, he preferred the western side of the island. True enough, many of its inhabitants were low-life, cowards and murderers. Yet at least they kept themselves to themselves, they did what they chose. Unfortunately however, freedom is a product of strength and those who would impose themselves on others would have to fight to keep doing so.
“Mornin’ slugger, gonna bring back another batch of weaklings today?” The voice was familiar, a marine who regularly manned the wall, he let the few that wished to travel between the sides do so by opening the gates. However, pathetic bravado this early in the morning did not sit well with Oaklan. His eyes narrowed briefly as the line was given, as if this guy had ever fought anyone one on one without his trusty pistol.
“Just doing your job” the reply came bluntly, without so much as a glance toward its recipient, not a trace of humour. He left the safety of the east silently. Pulling his hand from his pocket, he was now grasping a few pieces of paper. He looked at them one by one, bounty posters of small time pirates, he noted key features on each man before shoving them back in his pocket. Tonight he would drag them back to the marine base on the east side, dead or alive, it was their choice. No wait, it wasn’t.
“Right.”