Fed Starving
Active Member
Kritzen was a young centaurian. He was numerically old but his body was very much captured in time and held forever in continuous youth. This was brought on with the relic that he kept secret, the only thing given him when his parents abandoned him here on Earth. Kritzen was a godman and he might live thousands of years, if not forever.
At this time period in Kritzen's life he would travel Europe and Briton and take various roles within different professions, building himself a small fortune that he was obligated to withdraw and re-deposit at another bank to parry suspicions about his age. Now that he was a centaurian he was rehearsed well in avoiding the threat of being discovered.
If the normal humans knew of his immortality and his relentlessly broadening collection of knowledge and skill he would be taken and locked away, pressed hard to serve the interests of a King or worse, a lower man with petty goals. Kritzen learnt early on that great measures and overtimes must be invested to protect himself of those uncertainties. The task of this surely wasn't a simple and easy avocation. He kept tactful and keen and lived below his means to avoid social scrutiny.
Kritzen wasn't a natural genius. He was bright and quick and much like a normal man with his needs and desires. His knowledge and skill were the product of time and freedom. Money was his freedom and kept him mobile and permitted him the time required to train with new skills and learn whatever he wanted. What he learnt the most were the sciences and eventually the science would become his sole fascination and diversion as science would some day he believed grant him the technological means to leave Earth and return to his planet of birth.
And here he was, a centaurian. With all of his advantages over normal humans, there were times that he swore that if he could give all of that privelege up and become as a normal man, he would. Other times he was absolutely thankful that he was beyond the reach of the terrible suffering that he witnessed.
Kritzen hadn't yet left Briton at his centaurian milestone. He'd learnt two languages outside of English; French and Scandinavian. At this time he has lived all over Briton and feared that he would catch the attention of royalty as he became short on ideas to hide himself away. He felt like a rat or a snake unable to stand up, he would need to devise a new strategy and leave Briton.
He would do so once he left Sherborne, a beautiful town. He funded himself with a bank withdrawal large enough to rent a small insignificant and unobtrusive house for several years. He would live like a hermit and practice his new favorite pastime; chemistry.
Kritzen owned all the chemists books and related science publications, and his love of chemistry and science was his initial motivation in learning new languages as there were many books that were available only in their native language. He kept his science a secret and pretended that his interests were horses and liquor.
One day he awoke on a particularly rainy morning and while performing his morning routine of dressing and cleaning himself up he noticed the muddy footprints across his kitchen and to his laboratory table on the opposite wall of his bed. The rain hadn't started until he was already inside and getting ready to sleep, the door was open to let the smoke out and he shut it and locked it minutes after the rain had started. He didn't go outside and into the rain.
The muddy footprints on his wooden floor were smaller than his feet and he retrieved his boots to contrast them and confirm. He checked his door lock and then his window. The door was securely locked, there being no way to pick the lock from the outside because there were two separate locks, one on the inside and one on the outside. The door opened inwards and on the door is the iron bar that sits inside the iron hooks that are firmly fastened around the main verticle beams that hold the roof atop and the door in place. The window cannot be opened and wasn't damaged at all. Next he checked his roof, a wooden roof and could easily see no tampering and that all of the planks were unfettered with.
He returned to study those footprints. They led in from the door but there were no return prints. The last two footprints were next to each other, suggesting that whoever entered stood in place before his laboratory.
He looked at his laboratory. All of his books were on the table, spines out, level with the wall, underneath fine cloths to prevent damage. The shelf directly over his books held flasks and baubles and other instruments of science. He wasn't practicing chemistry at this time, his chemicals and elements locked safely inside a box underneath his laboratory table. His notebook and inkwell were the only items that he left out yesterday. The last few days he was calculating new chemical equations and drawing charts that relied on his newest series of tests. His research was crude in development but he knew that there was a method and recipe that lie within all things, that all things were an amalgamation and blend of other things. These vast and endless potentials were bewildering to the mortal man whose life and time might be depleted on the pursuit of a single discovery, but Kritzen seemed to have all eternity on his hands.
None of his laboratory items were missing but he swore that he burnt the lamp out before bed. He was very tired and so perhaps his memory was sketchy.
He took the burning lamp off the hook and replaced the lamp that wasn't burning that sat on his central dining table with it and placed the dead lamp on the hook that the burning lamp was hanging on. Something wasn't right. He looked around his house.
A minute of that and he collected his mind, starting his morning routine. His iron stove wasn't all that grand and there wasn't a chimney in his house, so he had to get wood that didn't smoke so much and avoided using charcoal at all measures. He placed more wood in the stove, the log inside of it almost gone. He checked his skillet and it was warm enough to start a cookout. He buttered the skillet and slid the skillet in circles to help melt the butter. Next to the stove was a bowl covered with a cloth. He lifted the cloth and took out several eggs, cracked them open and poured them in. They whitened but not that quickly. Another cloth covered bowl contained breads and rolls purchased at the market the other day. He chose a large roll and placed it on the table.
The lamp on the table wasn't where he left it. He knew absolutely that he placed the lamp onto the table directly on the long crack that was opening up in the center plank. Now the lamp was a few inches off of that crack. He placed the lamp on the crack a moment ago. His mind was fresh and well rested. He wasn't imagining this. Unsettled, he returned to his eggs.
He cooked his eggs up and brought the skillet with him to the table. A shiny fork and the wooden spatula served to place the eggs onto his roll without burning his fingers. He left his egg sandwich on the table, no plate, and returned the skillet to the stove. He ate his meal and thought hard about the mystery unfolding within his house. He wondered were there other things outside in his property that were tampered with.
His lamp knocked over as he swallowed the last morsel of his meal, spilling oil across his table and through the crack in the center plank. Kritzen automatically leapt out of his chair and went to fix the lamp's position before the table was burnt. The outside of the lamp was already burning when he plucked it off the table and then doused it with water. The light became dim in his house. He threw open the door on the stove then took the skillet into his hands.
He swung hard and hit nothing, stepping carefully around the table, wondering how to hit this enemy. There was a man in his house and he wore a cloak of invisibility. Kritzen knew the legend of this cloak. He could believe it but most normal men could not because they rarely saw what they called miracles which Kritzen knew was the creation of science.
Kritzen had to think quick. He periodically swung his skillet and circled the table slowly. When he reached his kitchenette area once again he took up the bucket of beans and splashed them across his wooden floor, scattering them everywhere and then took up his flintlock pistol hidden beneath his stove, already loaded and ready with a single round. The house was still dim but the stovelight was brighter than what the lamp provided. Knee height, the stovelight shone at a disadvantaged angle, with the center table reflecting much of it away from the other end of the house.
He looked around all over his floor, trying to pick out an area that might unveil the position of the unseen enemy. An empty space where his feet might be or a motion that sent a bean sliding. He stayed silent, his hard breaths the only sound. He looked at his bedding and it lay without the imprint of a body upon it.
He scanned the table and saw the outline of a shoe in the lamp oil. He aimed his flintlock pistol directly ahead, then fired.
There was a loud crash on the opposite side of the house, putting the table between both him and the unseen foe. He took his skillet and sprint across the house, seeing blood drop out of the air. He swung the iron skillet with all his might and hit the invisible enemy repeatedly till he crashed onto the wooden floor a second time. Cries and grunts and gurgling. Spilling blood was the only locator of the enemy till Kritzen tore through the invisibility cloak, made of a strong but not indestructible fabric.
The invader lay dying, clutching his stomach, devoid of armors or weapons, inside the sack of a cloak, more like a blanket, face grimacing and contorted. Kritzen said to him, "Who sent you?! Tell me your name."
The man didn't reply and soon died from the loss of blood and the beating of the skillet.
Kritzen now owned an invisibility cloak and this great item was the answer to his prayers.
At this time period in Kritzen's life he would travel Europe and Briton and take various roles within different professions, building himself a small fortune that he was obligated to withdraw and re-deposit at another bank to parry suspicions about his age. Now that he was a centaurian he was rehearsed well in avoiding the threat of being discovered.
If the normal humans knew of his immortality and his relentlessly broadening collection of knowledge and skill he would be taken and locked away, pressed hard to serve the interests of a King or worse, a lower man with petty goals. Kritzen learnt early on that great measures and overtimes must be invested to protect himself of those uncertainties. The task of this surely wasn't a simple and easy avocation. He kept tactful and keen and lived below his means to avoid social scrutiny.
Kritzen wasn't a natural genius. He was bright and quick and much like a normal man with his needs and desires. His knowledge and skill were the product of time and freedom. Money was his freedom and kept him mobile and permitted him the time required to train with new skills and learn whatever he wanted. What he learnt the most were the sciences and eventually the science would become his sole fascination and diversion as science would some day he believed grant him the technological means to leave Earth and return to his planet of birth.
And here he was, a centaurian. With all of his advantages over normal humans, there were times that he swore that if he could give all of that privelege up and become as a normal man, he would. Other times he was absolutely thankful that he was beyond the reach of the terrible suffering that he witnessed.
Kritzen hadn't yet left Briton at his centaurian milestone. He'd learnt two languages outside of English; French and Scandinavian. At this time he has lived all over Briton and feared that he would catch the attention of royalty as he became short on ideas to hide himself away. He felt like a rat or a snake unable to stand up, he would need to devise a new strategy and leave Briton.
He would do so once he left Sherborne, a beautiful town. He funded himself with a bank withdrawal large enough to rent a small insignificant and unobtrusive house for several years. He would live like a hermit and practice his new favorite pastime; chemistry.
Kritzen owned all the chemists books and related science publications, and his love of chemistry and science was his initial motivation in learning new languages as there were many books that were available only in their native language. He kept his science a secret and pretended that his interests were horses and liquor.
One day he awoke on a particularly rainy morning and while performing his morning routine of dressing and cleaning himself up he noticed the muddy footprints across his kitchen and to his laboratory table on the opposite wall of his bed. The rain hadn't started until he was already inside and getting ready to sleep, the door was open to let the smoke out and he shut it and locked it minutes after the rain had started. He didn't go outside and into the rain.
The muddy footprints on his wooden floor were smaller than his feet and he retrieved his boots to contrast them and confirm. He checked his door lock and then his window. The door was securely locked, there being no way to pick the lock from the outside because there were two separate locks, one on the inside and one on the outside. The door opened inwards and on the door is the iron bar that sits inside the iron hooks that are firmly fastened around the main verticle beams that hold the roof atop and the door in place. The window cannot be opened and wasn't damaged at all. Next he checked his roof, a wooden roof and could easily see no tampering and that all of the planks were unfettered with.
He returned to study those footprints. They led in from the door but there were no return prints. The last two footprints were next to each other, suggesting that whoever entered stood in place before his laboratory.
He looked at his laboratory. All of his books were on the table, spines out, level with the wall, underneath fine cloths to prevent damage. The shelf directly over his books held flasks and baubles and other instruments of science. He wasn't practicing chemistry at this time, his chemicals and elements locked safely inside a box underneath his laboratory table. His notebook and inkwell were the only items that he left out yesterday. The last few days he was calculating new chemical equations and drawing charts that relied on his newest series of tests. His research was crude in development but he knew that there was a method and recipe that lie within all things, that all things were an amalgamation and blend of other things. These vast and endless potentials were bewildering to the mortal man whose life and time might be depleted on the pursuit of a single discovery, but Kritzen seemed to have all eternity on his hands.
None of his laboratory items were missing but he swore that he burnt the lamp out before bed. He was very tired and so perhaps his memory was sketchy.
He took the burning lamp off the hook and replaced the lamp that wasn't burning that sat on his central dining table with it and placed the dead lamp on the hook that the burning lamp was hanging on. Something wasn't right. He looked around his house.
A minute of that and he collected his mind, starting his morning routine. His iron stove wasn't all that grand and there wasn't a chimney in his house, so he had to get wood that didn't smoke so much and avoided using charcoal at all measures. He placed more wood in the stove, the log inside of it almost gone. He checked his skillet and it was warm enough to start a cookout. He buttered the skillet and slid the skillet in circles to help melt the butter. Next to the stove was a bowl covered with a cloth. He lifted the cloth and took out several eggs, cracked them open and poured them in. They whitened but not that quickly. Another cloth covered bowl contained breads and rolls purchased at the market the other day. He chose a large roll and placed it on the table.
The lamp on the table wasn't where he left it. He knew absolutely that he placed the lamp onto the table directly on the long crack that was opening up in the center plank. Now the lamp was a few inches off of that crack. He placed the lamp on the crack a moment ago. His mind was fresh and well rested. He wasn't imagining this. Unsettled, he returned to his eggs.
He cooked his eggs up and brought the skillet with him to the table. A shiny fork and the wooden spatula served to place the eggs onto his roll without burning his fingers. He left his egg sandwich on the table, no plate, and returned the skillet to the stove. He ate his meal and thought hard about the mystery unfolding within his house. He wondered were there other things outside in his property that were tampered with.
His lamp knocked over as he swallowed the last morsel of his meal, spilling oil across his table and through the crack in the center plank. Kritzen automatically leapt out of his chair and went to fix the lamp's position before the table was burnt. The outside of the lamp was already burning when he plucked it off the table and then doused it with water. The light became dim in his house. He threw open the door on the stove then took the skillet into his hands.
He swung hard and hit nothing, stepping carefully around the table, wondering how to hit this enemy. There was a man in his house and he wore a cloak of invisibility. Kritzen knew the legend of this cloak. He could believe it but most normal men could not because they rarely saw what they called miracles which Kritzen knew was the creation of science.
Kritzen had to think quick. He periodically swung his skillet and circled the table slowly. When he reached his kitchenette area once again he took up the bucket of beans and splashed them across his wooden floor, scattering them everywhere and then took up his flintlock pistol hidden beneath his stove, already loaded and ready with a single round. The house was still dim but the stovelight was brighter than what the lamp provided. Knee height, the stovelight shone at a disadvantaged angle, with the center table reflecting much of it away from the other end of the house.
He looked around all over his floor, trying to pick out an area that might unveil the position of the unseen enemy. An empty space where his feet might be or a motion that sent a bean sliding. He stayed silent, his hard breaths the only sound. He looked at his bedding and it lay without the imprint of a body upon it.
He scanned the table and saw the outline of a shoe in the lamp oil. He aimed his flintlock pistol directly ahead, then fired.
There was a loud crash on the opposite side of the house, putting the table between both him and the unseen foe. He took his skillet and sprint across the house, seeing blood drop out of the air. He swung the iron skillet with all his might and hit the invisible enemy repeatedly till he crashed onto the wooden floor a second time. Cries and grunts and gurgling. Spilling blood was the only locator of the enemy till Kritzen tore through the invisibility cloak, made of a strong but not indestructible fabric.
The invader lay dying, clutching his stomach, devoid of armors or weapons, inside the sack of a cloak, more like a blanket, face grimacing and contorted. Kritzen said to him, "Who sent you?! Tell me your name."
The man didn't reply and soon died from the loss of blood and the beating of the skillet.
Kritzen now owned an invisibility cloak and this great item was the answer to his prayers.
