The Village of the Boyagers

[superclucky]

ringo is the best storyteller ever

lets give him special story telling rank powers ~_^

[Classic]

If I'm not in it, I'm not reading it.
I'm that selfish. 

[KonohaShinobi]

If I'm not in it, I'm not reading it.
I'm that selfish. 

wow you're a prick. You should at least appreciate this great work of art. Or not post in the thread so as not to discourage ringo from working hard on it. You might as well have said "tl;dr lol0okoadaibfihgiauhd".

[Classic]

wow you're a prick. You should at least appreciate this great work of art. Or not post in the thread so as not to discourage ringo from working hard on it. You might as well have said "tl;dr lol0okoadaibfihgiauhd".

Fine I'll read it you god damn asshole.

[Ringo]

Dinner was a quiet formality, both parties involved had cultured a perfect distrust of one another. I sat on the right of the banquet table with Sam to my left and Socks to my right. Clair and Steal sat directly opposite of me and our rather eccentric host sat silhouetted against the cracking wood fireplace at table's head. He watched us feed with folded hands and a hawkish fervor. The knocking of an ebony pendulum clock knocking softly back aside the fireplace.
"How is the food? I know you must all be famished from your long journey. Where was you from again?"
"Doesn't matter." Clair retorted sharply, bringing the conversation back to a quiet lull as she examined her soup. Apparently she shared the same suspisciouns in regards to their host. Hiro felt that if the time should come their host felt the need of disposing of them discreetly, a subtle poison would do the trick nicely. Hiro had no choice, he either ate it or died of starvation. Steal swallowed another spoonfull of the piping hot soup before breaking the rather ominous silence that hung about them
"That's pretty good stuff, what's in it?"
Their host held his chin with his hand, listing off the ingredients as he studied the ceiling
"Let's see here, green beans, lintels, corn, tomatoes, vegetable broth... " he brought his gaze back down to Clair, apparently noting her distrust before finishing with a completely matter of-fact-tone
"And arsenic, lots of arsenic. Adds flavor and gives the minestrone a certain kick". I sputtered, I feeling myself gag as I reached for the fork, if I was quick enough I could force myself to expel some of the toxin before it took effect. Our host's solemn demeanor gave way to a child-like smile as he bent over to slurp the hot minestrone before letting out a satisfied sigh.
I watched as the tension released from Steal's shoulders
"Some sense of humor you've got there." Steal murmured between spoonfuls.
"More wine, friend?" I noted our host's attention had turned to Socks, who had been nursing the tarnished silver goblet like an infant child and his feet propped comfortably on the solid oak table. His eyes glazed over with a satisfied inebriated stupor as he spoke
"Certainly! Why don't you top me off here, I'm runnin' low!" Socks laughed racously. Their host unseated himself and stalked towards Socks soundlessly, his eyes gleeming with glee as he held the wine flask underarm. Tilting the container ever so slightly he began to pour the deep red mirth into the goblet.
"Whoah! Whoah, that's good! I wanna be able to walk to my room. We've got to be ready to go."
"Where are you going?" he probed, his eyes gleeming a luminous green against the firelight. Before I was able to get in a word in edgewise Socks had already revealed most of our plan, our host nodding ever so sympathetically with each word. The imbecile! I felt my hands spasm with anger as Socks tilted his head back, draining the goblet of its contents. Knowing our plans our host seemed quite content, sipping his soup with dawdling disinterest. I decided it might be a good time to find out about our "friend" a bit more.
"Those taperstries, you mentioned someone else had woven them. Who?" Glancing up before taking in another sip he quietly wiped his lips with his dinner napkin
"The previous inhabitants used them as a chronicle, a sort of visual history book. Entailing everything from their fresh beginnings to their rather gruesome end."
I waited for that same mischevous smile he'd shown before to creep up from the corners of his lips. It didn't.
"Why do the trees weep blood?" this time it was Sam speaking "They told me to run. ", I noted a pained mixture of pain and wrath in her eyes building, boring into the host with threatening intensity.
"Child, if you must converse with the foliage then speak with the shrubbery. They're much better conversationalists." he laughed uneasisly, his dismissing humor unable to disguise the growing fear growing inside. What was he afraid of? I watched Sam's grip tighten as her voice seemed to resonate with a powerful wrath. And as she spoke the fireplace roared, flourishing with her increasing tone, illuminating the shadows until the room brightened with an eerily tinted glow. 
"Or is it because they hurt?."
"They weep for their loss and their shattered hopes. I am not responsible for their suffering."
"You rest on their graves and feed on the rations."
The host's voice brimmed with fury as he stood to his feet, knocking the chair back with a clatter to the stone floor
"I keep their graves! I clean their homes and in return they provide company! I've fed you, I've let you lodge and this is how you repay me? By insulting my home and indeed yours?!" he hissed
"Our home is Nsider!" she retorted back with increasing rage, rising from her seat to meet his challenge.
"This is Nsider!" the host spat. Sam fell back into her seat stunned, her eyes vacant and numb. I felt a growing knot in my stomach and suddenly, my appetite had left me. The tapestries, the castle, the familiarity he remembered this place. I noted the carving on the chair behind Clair, 'Mike'. Behind Steal was 'Andy'. They were in the admin board. As the pieces of the puzzle fell slowly into place, waves of grief overcame me. Stifling a sob I felt a myself choking back tears as his voice broke the quiet, this time in a grim tone befitting of the situation.
"When Nsider died, everything died. Nothing would grow. Those killed in the blast were trampled underfoot, their hopes and dreams in this place following suit until all that remained was ash and memories. Expeditions spread across the desserts in search of new lands, leaving me to starve. They sheltered me and they feed me, in turn I watch over them, guarding them from grave robbers and plunderers seeking their fortune from corpses."
Shaking me from the events at hand the ebony grandfather clock suddenly struck twelve, it's flat clang leaving an incredibly unnerving sensation through me as I felt the deathly cold seize me. The smoldering fireplace soon died down as the clock struck yet again. It's unearthly flat clangs etching themselves into my mind with each reverberation. The host turned and spoke with hushed caution
"Quickly, to your rooms. Lock the doors and don't turn back!"
I didn't need to be told more than once. Bolting through the hallway we rushed up the flight of stairs and through the halls, navigating by the lit torches set as directions until we reached the dimly lit suite inside.
Rushing in with my friends closing behind I could hear something as I slammed the door. It was a melody, enchanting and serene it enticed me, pulling me towards it with such compelling force that I hadn't realized what had happened until Sam gripped my shoulder with a terror ridden eyes
"Bolt the door." she whispered with an expression of absolute fear. The door in front of me shook for a second, I felt paralyzed as the music grew louder. Compelling me to open the door and join them. The melody seemed to have a maddening message to it, wracking my very soul as it whispered with sinister intent
"Dance with us, dance with us into oblivion."
It was growing louder. Why couldn't they hear it? Drawing on every reserve of my own willpower I stumbled back, focusing on driving the whispers from my head. Sensing my defiance the doorknob gave a shudder, then it began to turn. Clair rushed the door, setting the bolts in place before falling back with dreading exhaustion.

[Socks]

I don't even like alcohol that much.  :'(

[Ringo]

I don't even like alcohol that much.  :'(

Tough luck, you're an alchoholic. 

[Socks]

Tough luck, you're an alchoholic. 

At least I enjoyed myself. 

[Sam]

So... was I sitting across or next to you? >.>

[Ringo]

So... was I sitting across or next to you? >.>

I noticed that, you were sitting next to Hiro across from Clair.  My bad.

[Hiro]

So who is he? What's the music? Since when were you with us? Also, Sam is across from you as Well as to your side, while you didn't say where i sit. Also, a small grammatical error at the start. But thank you kindly for putting out another wonderful chapter after so long. Socks seemed off too

[Socks]

Jesus Hiro, it's his story let the man tell it.

[Hiro]

Each chapter leaves us more questions while not answering any, i hope it all ties up in the end. It's been a while since we've heard from Boyah and NSider 2

[Ringo]

So who is he? What's the music? Since when were you with us? Also, Sam is across from you as Well as to your side, while you didn't say where i sit. Also, a small grammatical error at the start. But thank you kindly for putting out another wonderful chapter after so long. Socks seemed off too

Actually "I" wasn't there. I'm speaking through your vantage point here. I may occasionally do that in the forms of journal entries later on but no assurances. The Sam across from Sam thing was supposed to have Clair across from you and Sam to your right. I got tired and forgot.

[Socks]

Ringo give me a percentage of how much of the story is already over, is it over 5o%?