Bee Attack

With an organized mind, the swarm went straight to the attacker's head, filling his nose and ears, then piercing his groin, his bulbs and his spear. He dropped to the ground, convulsed, and died.

The other two ran fast away with the bees still following closely behind.

Francis helped the young girl from the ground.

"I am Francesco.” he said.

"I know" she replied sobbing, "I am Mary".

She had outright lied to Francis, calling herself Mary - for the shame of what had befallen her had told her to.

As he carried her back to the camp an old grey wolf followed beside, and the bees returned, flying in and out of the pathway surrounding.

Her pale white arms were scored with scratches, holding on tight around his sun leathered neck. Hannah’s fear lifted momentarily, and she felt safe once again.


-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

An Uncanny Hum

Francis sighed. He did not want, or enjoy, confrontation.

“Brothers you are far too wild for this country habitat - go back to the town where you belong. Leave my land or it will not go well for you."

"An empty threat" spat the young girl's attacker as he moved a step closer to the monk.

"We have greeted thee in friendship and yet you refuse our fidelity - who are you to interrupt our recreations? A crazed wild man who denounced his very own?" He added this emphatically.

He had said this standing up, and was still naked waist down. The soldier picked the spear from the dirt and drove it hard into Francis's foot.

Straightaway there came an uncanny hum from close by in the trees. Seconds later a dense black cloud fell upon them. It was the swarm still following behind.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Their Envy Spiced & Spiked their Lust

“We have missed your company Brother, of late - what has become of you?" one asked as casually as a midsummer’s day.

This superficial tone had come from the youngest among them who kept looking sideways as he spoke. This soldier held a cunning, wondering if a better sport could be made with the madman, as it was with the girl.

For it was that their jealousy of this handsome man still freshly lived within their recollections of him.

Francis had a way of making every other man feel inferior and less fortunate. And now, this gave them a growing pleasure in the thought of taking him down.

The excitement was rising. All three were smirking. Each thought to themselves that the once mighty Francis now appeared very easy to overwhelm. They could hurt him, yay even kill him, and no one would miss this lunatic prince.

Their envy spiced and spiked their lust, and their desires dangerously excited their wits to conform.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Many a Soldier's Madness

The tallest of the two lay down his spear, moving forward to embrace Francis in genuine greeting, but instead Francesco pushed past him, knelt down and caught the semi-naked man by the roots of his hair. Francis said nothing but yanked the shank of hair even harder.

"Desist from this party, now!" he hollered menacingly.

The young girl beneath the soldier was bleeding at the breast, her long hair was caught around her arms, which were tied above her head. She looked up at Francis with a pleading that made him revolted to see her upset.

The wars had been the cause of many a soldier's madness. The three instantly pitied the lay monk who was standing before them clothed in a sack. It truly disturbed them to see their former friend so unkempt and obviously penniless, now living in witless solitude.

Yet he did not return back to them their familiar smiles.

Instead, commandingly, Francis asked for a tunic from the smaller of the three - to which he obliged. He then gave it over to the girl for a covering, and loosened the rope from her wrists.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

The Basest of Brutish Men

Francesco, once of the army himself, was not shocked by the basest of brutish men. He perceived crudity to be nested within a much higher nature, and therefore, most usually, he could forgive the coarse folly of ruffians. However, he could never tolerate cruelty dealt upon others, and to this end, he calmly, yet fiercely cried out:

“What for!”

The two standing by threw a puzzled look his way, and then realized who exactly it was calling to them.

The young men were genuinely pleased to see Francis, full knowing his unusual voice.

However, the third man was so enraptured with his frenzy, he gave no attention to the interruption of this past acquaintance.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

A Disturbing Chorus of Mocking Mirth

Francis would scarce be noticed as he moved quietly about the trees. He preferred to be unseen, especially if strange consorts were passing through.

On this day, the sobbing of a youth could be heard nearby the waterfall. It was alarmingly followed by uproarious laughter - a disturbing chorus of mocking mirth, made all the worse due to its fickle purpose, advertising the relish of a devilish taunt taking place under the cover of the shadowy trees.

Francesco felt compelled to intercept. He strode through a break in the briars to find three soldiers - two of whom he knew.

The other soldier was difficult to discern - revealing but a bare backside broadcast upon a small pale figure who was pinned beneath his flabby bulk.


- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Honey & the Bee

The air hung dank; its moist outreach heralding the rains to come, floating above the forest, with its festering, corrupting leaves, and expiring refuse.

Francesco sensed woefully that the group of men who were approaching close by were undesirables.

A cluster of starlings hurriedly confided their concern with a sharpish call.

This camp had become Francesco’s home, around which hung enormous bulbs of beehives, that drooped from the trees like heavy lanterns, thickly fragrant when the warm winds coaxed their sweet waxed scent from their cells.

He lived wholesomely feeding from their honey, utilising their greasy matrix for the confectionary of balm and candles - their tacky amber was alight with life, and this etheric goodness sustained him well.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances