Misunderstood Carver

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fan Fiction  |  No Houses

The ramblings of a misunderstood rogue, Carver

"Sigh, I have a good feeling about you. You're definitely someone that will listen to me and understand the hardships that I have gone through, how I've been misunderstood for the latter half of my life." A middle aged man in shades of dark leather sat in a chair facing another, while rambling semi-incoherently and playing with a dagger in his left hand.


"There are the good guys, the bad guys and then those in the middle, the Grays, as I like to call them. I am one of those Grays, you see." The man spoke in a low tone as he cleaned his fingernails with the dagger, slowly shaving them down.


"We exist in the middle and are the most misunderstood of everyone. You could even call us the black sheep of the world at large." The man sighed deeply as his face looked up at the one across from him. The other party remaining quiet and listening without moving.


"You're quite the good listener and I appreciate that. Where was I?" the man rubbed his chin thoughtfully and then slid his dagger back into its sheath. "Right, black sheep of the world."


"You see, there are people like yourself that live openly in the light and have no fear of going hungry during the day or freezing in the night. Nothing wrong with that as long as you keep to yourselves and do your part in keeping the balance. That means paying your little taxes and dues to the dark side. After all, both the government and the dark side keep the balance, you understand?" The man paused here and waited for a response, but nothing came. Slight frustration crawled into his voice, "whatever, whether you mind my words or not is your own business."


"Now then, the other side is of course the dark side. Those people are the ones that rob and kill indiscriminately within government owned cities. Of course, when they go out and conquer and pillage, they are considered to be on the light side. It's quite confusing if you really think about it. Both parties are killing indiscriminately, but only one is persecuted for it openly." Pausing again, the man sighed and pulled out a rolled paper with herbs in the center before lighting it up and taking a long draw.


"So we have the light and dark side, right? The good guys and the bad guys as people like you call them and categorize them as if the world is black and white. Hah, if only life were so simple," the man took another long drag of his roll and tapped his forehead knowingly. "However, nothing is ever so simple, right?"


"Thus we have the Grays. We are the ones that try to live life as we see fit and try to avoid you entitled Light siders while trying to not die by the Dark siders. Generally this works out well, but then there are people like yourself that have to push the line and overstep the boundaries and then people like me have to step in." The man took another long drag and puffed out a smoke ring into the other's face.


"Worst yet it's always people like you with families that have to push the proverbial scroll. Do you even understand what that means for us, Grays?" He sighed once again and turned to the window, where several buildings were exploding into fire in the distance.


"Can you see those buildings in the distance? There are a dozen or so men in there and they are brothers, fathers, and husbands. Do you get it now? When you crossed the line, you provoked me into doing things I didn't want to do." The man snuffed out his burning roll on the table between them and then took a large swig from the thunder mug on it. "A fine rum, it must have cost a pretty penny."


"As I was saying, you crossed the line and cost so many lives. Granted, those men were the dark sider and known as the bad guys, but that is hardly an excuse right?" The man cricked his neck impatiently as he continued, "so you must understand now right? Since you crossed the line, the bad guys lives are forfeit, but this breaks the balance. Therefore, someone like me has to appear to correct the balance by reaping the lives of your people as well."


The man turned his head away from the window and into the interior where corpses lay everywhere with too many holes to count. "Sigh, you really should have kept to yourself. Well, I need to get going before the others arrive. You've been a great listener friend, thanks."


The man kicked over the tankard in the room and took out a new roll of herbs in paper. "Oh right, allow me to give you my name, it's Carver." He stated with a smile as he lit the wrap, took a long drag, lit a small blade of grass from his pocket and threw it into the alcohol.


The fire light lit up the room immediately and the other person was shown clearly. The rigor mortis had long set in already and his blood had long congealed on his shirt.


Carver shook his head gently as he disappeared inot the night, returning to the world of gray.

Submitted: September 23, 2021

© Copyright 2022 Draakdorei. All rights reserved.

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Catfish Waterdancer

The path between the Light and the Dark can be seen either as a pathway which does not always run cleanly between the two, but dips slightly into each in order to keep the balance from favoring one side; or as a tightrope, where a loss of balance could be fatal. Strangely enough, I think the latter is the easiest to tread, because the road is clearly delineated before you; whereas the former makes it harder to see the path ahead.

Fri, September 24th, 2021 2:53am

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