Some of you probably remember this guy from the Character Comp of '05, as well as the majority of my time spent at ZFGC. Anyway, after entering The Acolyte into this year's Character Comp I felt like re-inventing The Wanderer in a way. I made a new picture of him (with vectors) and wrote up a new story that corresponds with my current vision for him and The Acolyte.
Row, row, row your boat
Gently down the stream
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily
Life is but a Dream"I dreamed a dream. I was laying in a forest, upon a bed of fallen leaves. The sun was fading in the west, covering all with the shadows of the trees. A familiar smell wafted through the air...
smoke. I rose abruptly, and ran towards the source of the odor. The city...the entire city...
...was in flames.
"I ran through the market place...I knew my destination. I had to reach the cathedral. I don't know how I knew, but it was where I needed to be. Smoke enveloped the sky, flames enveloped the buildings, and bodies littered the cobblestoned street. There, in the very middle of the city, stood it's pride and glory: the great Cathedral of Jerusalem. The doors, larger than god himself, were open wide. Blood stained the red carpet. Red, like the filtered light of the sun emerging through the stained-glass window. It depicted an angel ascending to heaven. In front of the window I could see my mother on the altar...
...with a cross-shaped blade embedded in her chest.
"I awoke with a start. The vision of the blade was still burned in my eyes...the silhouette of a cross against the bright stained-glass window. Was this just a dream...or had it really happened? I don't know. I can no longer tell where the dreams end and where reality begins. But...is there really a difference. What is this world...is it all someone else's dream? Is it mine? Am I dreaming right now...or am I awake?
I just don't know anymore."
These are the thoughts that ran through the head of The Wanderer as he sat in his prison cell. He possesses very little memory of his past up until 5 years ago. The memory of the burning city, if it really is a memory, would have to be his earliest. He doesn't know his real name ("Do I have a name?"), or his age ("Perhaps I'm ageless..."). His thoughts are not guided by ethics or emotions, but by logic and instinct. He has spent his conscious time roaming the world, learning about its secrets. And more importantly, observing the behavior of its inhabitants. He is intrigued by his fellow humans ("Am I even one of them?"), and finds no better way to learn of their inner thoughts than through theater. The Wanderer enjoys watching theater more than any other activity, for humans express themselves through art: their thoughts, actions, and emotions.
He though back to how he had gotten himself into this prison. "The shadow..." Months prior, a shadow had appeared before The Wanderer. It informed him that he was the Logos of the world, and requested that he undertake a quest. The shadow asked him to hunt down and exterminate the Apostles, and in return he would be greatly rewarded. "What manner of reward?" he inquired.
"I shall wake you from your slumber, and release you from your nightmare."
"Nightmare...." He waited a few moments, deep in thought. "I'll do it. I shall undertake your quest."
"Wonderful. Fear not, for I shall guide you along the way. I shall help you find each Apostle, and..." The shadow's eyes shone a bright white. He held up a wooden handle with glowing white strings hanging from it in his hand. "I'll aid you in exterminating him."
"...What manner of creature are you?"
"Some have called me a puppeteer. Others a ghost. Others still have called me a god. For you, I am a guide. You can call me
Virgil."
Virgil led The Wanderer about the world, and helped him to defeat a few of the Apostles. He had an interesting way of "helping." The glowing strings would attach themselves to The Wanderer's limbs when he experienced difficulty. His eyes shone as bright as the shadows', like little suns in his face. A scythe appeared in his hands. The world started to fade away... When the Wanderer regained consciousness, his foe was defeated, and all was back to normal. It was during one such occurrence that the murder was witnessed. The Wanderer was captured, and brought into the prison.
And now here he sits, awakening from a terrible nightmare, only to find himself in another. A soldier approaches his cell. "The time has come, Wanderer. The Acolyte awaits your presence." The Wanderer heard a voice from the shadows cryptically reply,
"And I his..."
