He was tired.
Spiritually, emotionally, and physically tired.
Left alone so long, it felt as though the weight of loneliness were a physical thing. From the day his parents died, he had sat in the orphanage. Now he lived alone on the street, too old for orphanages and easy handouts. He worked part time down at the docks, at least until he had enough money for his daily meal.
The port city of Drast always had ships coming in and out. It was a major restocking place for the crews of merchant and other vessels. Being that it was one of the few routes between the lands of rulers that he had neither the desire nor ability to learn. None of that stuff mattered to him as he sat wallowing in his loneliness.
Deep within him lived an ache. An ache that had been there ever since he had been moved into the orphanage. He had sat with it so long that it had grown to become physical. It was an insidious, sinister weight that started the day as a minor encumbrance. Slowly, throughout the day it would worm its poison through his heart and into his bones. Eventually each day, around noon as the sun beat down upon him, it would claim his entire being until he gave up and sat in the streets.
As his whole body sat in the dark ooze of lonely despair, the memories would come.
They would resurface from the black lake of his soul. Memories of the people who looked down upon him as he sat homeless. Sneering down at him for wasting away in their clean streets. They didn’t say anything openly, most of the time. They just looked on in disappointment or occasionally, in disgust. The occasional shopkeep or homeowner would send him away if he stayed there too long though.
They just didn’t understand how heavy everything was. How oppressive this weight felt atop his body and soul. How moving was a massive undertaking. Having lost everything else, losing yourself feels like the next natural step.
The faces would come and go, cycling through his mind, whispering about how worthless, sad, or pitiable he was. How could anyone care about themselves so little that they would waste their entire life away? Did he not have any will to live?
Laying down helped, though he usually sat as people were less inclined to tell him to leave that way. Crying didn’t help, as it usually just made him spiral more. Sometimes it was just all too hard not to cry though. He couldn't stop the unwanted tears, unwanted as he had felt his whole life. From growing up in the orphanage to scraping by in the streets, all for this Nameless life.
He was tired of struggling.
He had shouldered this burden as he went about his day to day life, looking for scraps. He did the occasional odd job at the docks when a ship would come to port. The dockmaster always needed help unloading freight. That way, he could scrounge up food or possibly some shelter during the colder times or more dangerous hunting seasons.
He was a Nameless. His parents had chosen not to name him until he came to earn a name or find one for himself. It was an old tradition that they had said would help him to find his own way in life. It would help him to earn a name he would be proud of.
Throughout his life he could have chosen a name. He just never thought it would matter if he had one as then he would have something to lose again. It was better to be Nameless and leave this world without having marked it, as it clearly didn’t want him.
He sat there, on the cobblestone streets of Drast, looking over the port while feeling the weight of his life. He was envious of those ships that came and went. How could they be so light that their enormous hulls floated gently upon the water? He was nowhere near their size and he felt as though he would sink like a stone.
How light the world must weigh upon them.
He meandered his way through his daily meal in the early afternoon, and glumly gazed at the ocean’s horizon. Then, seemingly from thin air, he felt a nuzzle to his arm that shocked him into awareness. Had he let the rats get too close to him again? He scooted away violently, cradling the food in his hand.
His eyes revealed to him that it wasn’t a rat, but a brown and black dog. Like him, it was skinny and looked to be somewhat starved. His sudden movement had caused it to shy away, yet it still looked hopefully at his lunch.
He sighed and looked down at over half the portion of his meal. He was already out of his dock money for the day, so he couldn’t go buy more if he gave this away. He felt the weight on top of him increase. The dog would just leave him anyway if he gave it the food.
A source of light emerged from his dark thoughts. A memory surfaced from his soul as he remembered a time during a particularly horrible hunting season. The monsters had gotten so tenacious that the guards had to be out in full force after sun down instead of the day. That didn’t stop the monsters from coming out. It did reduce the amount of civilian deaths however.
It had been during one of these nights that he had lain down to rest in one of his usual haunts throughout the city. As he was about to go to sleep, an old lady that was hurrying by him stopped and vigorously shook him. She had told him that she wouldn’t leave even her worst enemy out in these conditions. She had been so persistent that she had drug him over to her house and laid a spot out for him on the floor.
The next morning he had slunk out of the house early, without even gathering her name. As he made his way around, he had found a dead crab and eel hybrid that had snuck up from the docks where he was supposed to have slept. It had fought a vicious battle with a guard force, leaving several bisected bodies in its final place of rest.
Lucky didn’t even begin to describe how he had felt. Without that old woman dragging him to her place he would surely have died then. He hadn’t sunk low enough that he had wanted to die back then.
This memory of kindness released some of the weight from his weary body. It was enough that he held out his food to the stray dog. The dog cautiously closed with him, gently taking his offered food. It then retreated a small bit away from him to eat.
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After it had finished, it edged closer as if asking for more. He sighed and held his hands out to show he had nothing left. The dog gave out a chuff of disappointment, walked to the other side of the street, and laid down. It remained some ways away from him but he didn’t mind. It felt good to help out a fellow creature abandoned by the world.
Throughout the following days the dog stayed within his sight more often than not. After the fourth day of sharing half his meal, he decided that things would be better off if he worked a little longer. He would be able to buy two meals, one for the dog and him to each have. Besides, it seemed that there were plenty of ships coming and going from the port these days. Many sporting the red and blue flag of some new faction that had started showing at their port recently.
By the end of the week they had begun to sleep next to each other at night while on the streets. She even let him pet her from time to time. The weight crept into his body less the more time he spent with her. It even lifted from his mouth enough to allow him to smile for the first time in a very long time.
He was tired of being alone.
They soon became inseparable. He even attained a full time job at the docks from the dockmaster. The dockmaster, he had finally come to learn his name was Otto, had been so surprised that Otto had asked the reasoning for this new exuberance for work. He had told Otto that a new friend was motivating himself to be more proactive. Otto had peered around, slightly concerned, until his eyes had finally settled on the dog.
The dockmaster had asked what her name was. Upon hearing that he hadn’t really taken the time to come up with one, Otto told him it was always best for friends to have a name. He had agreed, though he confessed to not being good with names, as he hadn't earned or come up with one for himself. Otto had smiled and thought about it. Then the dockmaster had told him that Renata was a good name, or even Ren for short. It was an old name for beginning anew. Not much caring about the meaning but liking the name he had agreed with Otto. Ren had yipped happily at her new name.
Otto even set them up in one of the worker's quarters that dockworkers used to stay the night in. Just like that, he had a new place to stay, a friend to share time with, and a job to provide for them both.
He no longer felt as spiritually or emotionally tired as he used to.
He wasn't so heavy anymore. He wasn't just existing in the current needs of the day. He was content now. No longer did he feel shunned by the world. The more he worked, the more people would look at him with a surprise that would turn to approval. The weight he had carried faded away.
Renata was his constant source of drive and energy. As she came out of her shell more, they began to explore the city and the docks together. A sailor gave her a wooden ball one day as he had seen her staring at it while they worked. Ren enjoyed chasing the ball around the docks, even diving into the water to go get it.
She also really enjoyed the food vendor’s section so he took her there daily for their main meal. He would go try a new cart almost every day, buying enough to eat then and a little extra for when they finished for the day. Renata would go cart to cart, begging scraps from the vendor’s, usually gaining more food then he bought them most times.
Months of this had filled out her scrawny frame, muscles began to show on her. He had even started to put more weight and muscle on, as being a cargo mover was fairly difficult work when done full time. He wasn’t bulky, but his too lean form had begun to fill out a bit. This being thanks to the fact that he now ate more than once or twice a day.
He forgot what being heavy even felt like.
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It was a quiet night. Ren and him had been asleep for a few hours now. The port held the sounds of waves gently lapping against the stone structures. Ships creaked in their moorings, only a single one hoisted the red and blue flag that had been so prevalent in previous years.
Ol’ George was an elderly fisherman that loved to night fish off of the docks. He always told people that there was no point buying food when you could catch it. Unfortunately, the sea waters weren’t always the safest of places, even at the docks of a major city. Ol’ George, the midnight fisherman, caught more than he could handle that night.
The legs of the old man dangled off the edge of the dock while he whistled a jaunty little tune. They appeared to be bait of a different kind compared to the minnow on the end of his fishing line. Ol’ George perceived a few ripples in the murky water headed towards the minnow. The old man smiled and prepared to set his hook for when the fish took the bait.
He felt the bait get snapped up and set the hook, prepared to fight the fish. The initial weight from the fish was enormous and almost pulled him from the dock. He hauled with all his might on the line. Much to his surprise, the fish began to swim towards him. He rapidly reeled in the line so that he didn’t lose the hook's tautness.
When it was a few yards out from him it dived straight down. The aggressive shift from no weight on the line to all weight on line caused the fishing rod to be torn from George’s grasp. He swore vehemently as he stared down into the murky dark depths of the water.
A pair of wide jaws the size of a man’s waist cleanly snapped both his dangling legs off at the knees with their jagged teeth. ‘Ol George was terrified and pain tore through his old body as he went from predator to prey. His screams wailed into the night as he scrambled with his arms towards the base of the pier, towards the safety of the stones. His wispy gray hair framed his terrified face as he clawed towards his last hope of freedom.
He made it to the stones, sadly it was within the jaws of his attacker.
Ol’ George was a few feet from the edge of the cobblestone walkway when the wood below him burst up into his ribcage, mercifully ending his life. What followed were the sharp toothy jaws of his assailant as it flew out of the water and onto the stone walkway. It crunched up the mangled corpse of the old man, bringing the beast into full view of a streetlight.
Allowing the nameless dock worker and his dog to see the horror fully as they stood in their doorway.
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Ren had awoken him with her frightened whining, so he came to the door right as Ol’ George’s last scream had torn through the night. He saw the flesh tearing, too large jaws crunch up the old fisherman. Small eyes rested atop the jaws while sharp protrusions ran down its broad scaled back and short tail. Large, muscular, webbed forelegs held it up. Conversely, its pair of hind legs were short and wiry. They seemed to do nothing but stabilize the creature when compared to the powerful pair of front legs.
He stood in fear as the creature scarfed down the final bits of the old man. A life lost to the cruel world he lived in. His safety bubble was popped, and all he wanted to do was quietly retreat into his room to hide and hope everything would pass by.
He felt a weight he hadn’t felt in so long returning. The helplessness derived from the hopelessness of a situation.
Yet he was reminded again of the old woman who had helped him, had saved him. He thought of Ren and how much his life had changed since he found and helped her. He wasn’t someone who could live with not helping anymore. What about the other people out there? What if someone hadn’t woken up from the screams? He could save someone else’s life.
He dashed out from his doorway to the alarm bell that every building in the outer city was equipped with. Without waiting long enough to second guess himself, he rang the alarm bell frantically and with all his might.
“SPIKEMAW! SPIKEMAW AT THE DOCKS!” he bellowed with all the air his lungs could contain.
The spikemaw whipped its head towards him, beady eyes filled with the bloodlust of the hunt. It bellowed a hunting roar, the force almost a physical blow to him as he shook with fright. It charged to the edge of the stone dock like a reptilian gorilla and dove into the water again, headed straight for his little offshoot quarters facing the sea.