Full Circle (Gale McCenry)

[Jadlin Hayes]

78th day of Summer, 514 Jad sat in the corridor of The World's End Grotto, humoring himself with the thought that he must surely be about to enjoy success. With the all-inclusive scope of how wasted the last several days had been, he figured the gods must be about to reward him for the degree to which he must have amused them. He'd spent the twelve days since his arrival searching out the list of names he'd obtained from the Sailor's Guild, checking off each location that might correspond to the home of the man who'd once owned the ring Jad now possessed. It was his only link to his family, and his primary purpose in being in Zeltiva. Rather than criss-crossing the town, in an alphabetical approach, he'd chosen a direction at random and gone in a circular pattern, taking the locations as they'd come. A massive, "clockwise" rotation, to use the gadgeteer's term, encompassing the whole town. There had only been three names where he'd gotten no response: Mallory, Maze and McCenry. And not all of the responses he'd gotten had been pleasant. This description had nothing to do with the success or failure of his mission. It was mostly that a full half of the people he'd spoken with had quickly claimed to be the man he was looking for, for no other reason than to claim the ring from him. Several of these claims had developed into resentment when Jad calmly requested that they describe the one special feature of the ring, and the men were unable to do so. Some told unlikely tales of injuries to the head, making them forgetful. It was noteworthy that not a one of them could display a scar consistent with such an injury. When Jad pointed this out, they invariably became quite cross and vulgar, something Jad was only too willing to reciprocate. A few of these confrontations nearly came to blows, but for the intervention of wives, kids or neighbors that were all too fed up with it. Some spoke of sinister afflictions of magic, designed to rob them of their memories. When Jad asked how it was that they remembered that they'd even HAD a ring then, There was an inevitable pause, which quickly developed an aura of unnecessary defensiveness. Ultimately, Jad found the ones that simply told him to "Bugger Off" to be the least offensive. After crossing off all the unsuccessful sites, he'd returned to the Sailor's Guild to see if the remaining three names were still residents of Zelitva. He was given various accounts as to why they might be temporarily unavailable. One name, however, The "Maze" entry, triggered a suggestion that there may be godfather in town, currently caring for the infant son, Martin Maze. Jad asked what the name of this godfather might be, and was dismayed to hear it was another of the unsuccessful names, "McCenry". He was assured that the man was in town, but that it may be difficult to follow his schedule. It was at this time that the whole sense of a massive joke began to play on him. This man, McCenry, lived at the World's End Grotto, same as Jad. His was the very first door he'd knocked on. Now he sat outside that same door, sweaty and exhausted, and more than a little annoyed. His ire was not directed at Mr. McCenry, just the situation as a whole. It was dark outside and the torchlight flickered drowsily. Before long, he was asleep on the stone bench in the corridor across from the door.

[Gale Austin McCenry]

In every aspect of the word, Gale was a busy man. His mind was almost always consumed with bustling memories, thoughts, and ideas. But he also had a busy schedule. Even before he had to take care of Martin he was fairly busy. He worked to draw again and he could generally be found at any part of the city at any given time. But now that he had Martin and Fenvour to look after, he was the busiest person he knew.

He worked long hours during the night, almost always leaving him exhausted. But when he wasn't at work, he was out and about doing some sort of errand, whether that was getting milk for Martin, food for Fenvour, or getting new clothes and diapers for Martin. When he wasn't doing any errands he was almost always in some way or another trying to keep Martin calm. There was hardly any room for the idea of "sleep" that Gale had long ago forgotten. So he was a very tired, busy person.

And today had been no exception.

Gale was out getting some more food for the blasted cat when Martin started throwing a tantrum. So Gale took Martin to the docks for a bell or so, walking the child and letting him play in the sand and with the rocks and shells scattering the area. But about a bell ago, Gale had went to the general store for the cat food and was no heading back to the Grotto. That dog of a cat ate way too much in Gale's eyes and was probably scratching at the door to try and escape. It wouldn't be the first time that Fenvour would escape either if he had. Though if the dumb feline did make it out, Gale wasn't sure if he would go after him a second time. Besides, if the stupid cat was gone at least he wouldn't have to worry about getting food anymore. And the cat hair everywhere, or the sneezing, oh goddess Ssena the sneezing was horrible. Gale didn't know how he put up with it for this long but he did. Damn allergies.

"Why a cat?" Gale mumbled to himself. "Why could it not be a bird?" Birds were practically the only thing Gale really managed to tolerate. He hated dogs, was allergic to cats and horses scared the petching shyke out of him. So birds where Gale's best friend. if he had to have a pet anyway. Not that he would ever get one.

Entering the World's End Grotto, Gale shifted the handle of his basket in his hand to keep it from falling from his two fingered grip. Two pounds of cat food was fairly heavy to carry all the way from the docks to the foothills where the Grotto was. Especially when you were carrying a baby in one hand and carrying the basket with the cat food in it with two fingers. He had to stop a lot along the way to set the basket down and give his hand a break, afraid he would drop it if he didn't. But since he was at the Grotto now, he figured he could wait until he got to his room. And that's what he did.

Walking across the main room and down the hall, Gale slowly came to him room. The hall had always had this lonely old bench in it, but not once has he seen anyone actually sit on it. So one could imagine his surprise to see that someone had managed to fall asleep on the stone slab. It was also rather late for someone to be sleeping there wasn't it? The artist looked over his shoulder down the hall at the window that met the end. The sun was setting and blues and purples sprawled across the sky. Shouldn't this man be home? Well, maybe he live here and lost his room key. Or was waiting for someone?

Nevertheless, Gale was never fond of waking people up. Especially strangers on benches. So the man continued down the hall as quietly as he could. He tried his best to move around the squeaky spots on the floor by hesitantly applying pressure to his next placement and moving it if it started to squeak. It was at a casual pace though, so it didn't take too long for Gale to make it to his door, which was directly in front of the bench. The murderer set the basket down carefully, digging his hand into his pocket for his key.

But of course. There was always some factor in which fate always decides to throw against his favour.

Gale gasped as soft moans escaped little Martin. And Gale was all familiar with his little routine. He would moan and whine for a little bit and then out of the blue he'd start wailing. "It is okay Martin, shhh." Gale whispered, quickly shuffling inside his pocket to grab his key and stuff it into the lock. But he was unable to turn it and enter the room before Martin started to cry. "Shhhh, Martin!" The man whispered harshly.

Oh dear gosh, why? Why? Why did the gods hate him?

An idea quickly sprawled into his head though as Gale thought of ways to calm the child. "Hey- Hey Martin, look." The man gently used a finger to pull Martin's head to look at his hand. If this didn't work then petch it all.

Once Gale saw Martin looking, Gale held his hand out, palm up. There was hardly even a thought before a small orb of light started to glow in front of the two. Gale didn't know if Martin was missing his parents or if he was mad or hungry or he needed a change, but Gale hoped that no matter what it was that the gift from Priskil would help in some way. Make Martin not feel as upset or at least keep his attention so he will stop crying.

Gale was careful about the light though. His back was to the man sleeping (or at least he hoped he was still sleeping) and he kept the light near him so the added light didn't disturb the man. He spoke to Martin in a hushed voice once more, almost praying that Martin would listen,"Shhh, it is okay."

[Jadlin Hayes]

They say that a man's life flashes before his eyes when his death is upon him. It passes a bit more slowly when it takes the form of a dream. But it is no less compelling. Or agonizing. Jad's mind stumbled through his tortured childhood for the hundredth time, just since leaving Syliras. The memories of the miserable mental slavery and abuse he'd grown up with had waned considerably while on the ship voyage, an unexpected benefit of the utterly different surroundings. Every sensory aspect of a ship voyage differed from those experienced in the stony enclosure of the Syliras citadel. But since arriving in Zeltiva, the smell of the sea was once again tempered by the smell of stone and grass. The sound of pounding waves was again timed by tide, rather than wind and the ship's course. And it was again overlapped by the counterpoint of civilized hubbub and the echo of city walls. Even his room at the World's End Grotto was all too similar to the room he was kept in back in Syliras, his toddler mind clouded to dizzy contentment by drugs and hypnosis. He'd been raised to be nothing more than a djed battery for wizards, a cult of Sagallius, hidden in the midst of the "City of Peace". He'd been conditioned all his young life to accept that this was simply the way things were. When anything awakened an interest in the outside world, he was made to suffer for it. And always in such a way as to be left to feel it was because of this outside influence, and also to feel that his Masters had rescued him from even worse! The only people from "outside" that he was allowed to meet were likewise stupefied with djed-craft or chemistry. The only ones that showed any self-awareness turned out to be part of the cult. It was not until soldiers crashed in the doors and arrested everyone that the fog began to clear. The testimonies of the ensuing trial horrified and magnified the memories that began to assail him in his dreams. Many of them involving other children and infants that took his place when he grew too resistant to blatant djed draining, and was instead trained as a support mage, still mentally bound with heavy obedience conditioning. When there was not the background stimulus of feeling Black in his arms as he slept, his mind frequently found itself back with the cult, guarding the nursery, watching as servants came and went with children, some of them never returning, but all of them crying piteously. After his mind cleared, and the true nature of his "service" to his masters was realized, the nightmares began. Borne of guilt and horror, they were unrelenting in their stark, self-recriminating nature. But they had waned on the sea voyage. And the passion and intimacy he enjoyed with Black also served to quell them. But at times like this, lying on cold stone, and alone, they would come back. He did not necessarily wake screaming, but he always woke swearing never to allow such a thing to occur in his presence again. The hallway was an unfamiliar haze upon Jad's sudden waking. The strangeness of the surroundings did nothing to benefit Jad's lingering mood from the sour memories of his dream. Though the color of the stone differed sightly, the atmosphere of an enclosed hallway, coupled with the crying of a child, spiraled Jad's orientation down into the brooding state of sworn avenger. He flashed sleep clouded eyes one way, then the other, seeing a man inflicting some craft of hypnotic lights upon an infant. Fury propelled him to his feet, the rush dizzying him in a drunken stagger. "What are you doing to that child, villain!" he hissed, his hand instinctively going to his skirmish sword, leaning like a walking staff against the wall. The child undoubtedly sensed the anger in the air and responded with greater volume, which may have made Jad's apology for his outburst difficult to hear. He was about to explain that he'd only just awoken and had been half dreaming, when he noticed the door the man was standing in front of. He stepped forward eagerly, possibly appearing aggressive, and pointed at the man. "You're uh...MacKanry...or kenry...Gale Mac Kenry, aren't you." In his poorly timed excitement, he did not realize he was still holding the pole arm in a functional grip. His wide-eyed, unsmiling expression did nothing to suggest his good intentions.