OVERTURE to Nocturn, Second Movement (Part Six)

The old Virginia Orphanage stood over the uneven landscape of the outskirts of the forest like a vulture over a cliff. The dilapidated red truck pulling up in front of the effigy breaks a young boy's reverie. Outside, a desolate scene of grey stormy skies threatening a storm was broken by the hint of pink in the clouds by a far off sunset. A strange man walks out of the red truck, the sole source of color in the boy's field of vision. He puts his nose against the glass, fascinated by what he sees.

A large, old man with a full beard and eyepatch pulls out an old wood cane and shambles towards the entrance. The red-cheeked fellow resembled a giant dwarf in a flannel shirt and farmer's cap. The small child sprints downstairs with anticipation and hope.

The man walks towards an apprehensive receptionist dressed in the same grey that covers the walls. A thick Scottsman's accent poured from the wily old man's lips, "Do you have the custody of a Charley Androwe?"

"Grandpa!", there was the young boy on the stairs. He was painfully thin, with a heart shaped face, large blue eyes, and was in light blue pajamas. It had to be his grandfather.

"Charley!," and the old man scooped up the boy with one arm. The two turned towards the door, as if that was that, when the receptionist said "Yes, this is Charlemagne Androwe, but we need to go through the procedures. You've never mentioned a grandfather, Charlemagne."

"But he has to be, he's the man from the dream!"

"Ma'am, I'll be taking the boy home today. Don't worry, I'm the real thing."

Some other staff approached from what seemed like nowhere all, and the commotion volume arose steadily as the man holding the boy begain to struggle away from the orphanage staff. Then the old man did something drastic:

Placing the boy down, from his now free hand he pulled out a revolver. They were all silent and placed themselves against the walls.. The two backed out and got into the red truck. The skies over the forest cleared up, letting the sunset through. On that beatiful evening, in only two, unexplained minutes, the staff of the Virginia Orphanage, nor the rest of the established world, would ever hear of the white-haired boy named Charlemagne again.

OVERTURE to Nocturn, Second Movement (Part Five)

The armor of a Gaunt is easily the most impressive and fearful thing that mankind has been able to produce in the realm of Paxia. Crafted from the bones of some long forgotten abomination, a marrow structure akin to natural chalk carves out a blasphemous effigy, augmented in effect by the obsidian peaking out of the cracks and openings in the bone layer. Like a great skeleton of destruction, walking briskly with a newfound youth and a royal purple cloak adorning the skeletonic armor, Battlepriest Aequitas' footsteps echo in the halls of the cathedral-city.

He stops when he reaches the front of a great and decorous chamber, where a motley of soldiers, refugees and residents of the city eagerly gather.

"Officer Grandamme. Approach," and the mob moves aside to create an aisle.

Meekness is something Roderick is not well known for, but for once he looks as fearful as Ridiculous following up behind him. "Yes, sir." He notices from the corner of his eye more of his own allied troops in their white uniforms. A few of them recognize the man from many a late night brawl or revel, and nodded to their comrade in arms.

"The scouts inform us that your figurings on the movement of the Benefactors are certainly true. We are preparing for battle, and now that the lay people are safely secure far into the city, I will be representing the Gaunt force for one final time."

Roderick's foot is tapping uncontrollably as he waits for bad news. "Yes", coming out of his mouth like a croak, he tries again. "Yes, sir?"

"I am to understand you are the last survivor of your squadron, charged with the duty of releasing the fool behind enemy lines, is that right?"
"Yes sir"
"And why the fool."
"Sir, benefactors only seem to plague humans. We believe that the fool, who is a fluke among them, may serve as an alternative fighter whom the enemies will not engage."

The poor fool is too confused to even be sure what his name is now.

"Regardless, officer Grandamme, the fight will be coming to us. We will not have any time to wait for your army.You and the fool are to await the oncoming wave of attack and serve as a special task force. You will travel on the parallell line of attack to our walls and round them to the front of the city, where we I will smash the rest of them. Understood?"

"Who is to accompany us, sir"

"We will" drone several voices in unison.

Turning around, a new throng of Paxian soldiers stand in a line, all of them with a strange quality to their eyes.
Leading the pack is an officer with his cap on at a bad slant, hand on his hip, and a cocky grin, with white hair and badly burnt skin.