Piraminot

The Jester
The Forced Fool
Tenth Lesser Saint

Without Piraminot's small kindnesses in the face of the hatred of the twin kings of the second armistice, we would be lost.

With king's court clogged with spitefulness, this forced-fool smiled and gave trinkets to the frightened children, even as the guardsmen drove their nails and knives into his sides.

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He woke up to the sound of screaming. It's the start of his day.

Rubbing his eyes, he sat up, tightly clutching the thin blanket to his lanky frame.

Silently, he took in his surroundings.

His sleeping area was behind a fallen cabinet, located at an abandoned storeroom, large enough to provide an area were he could rest and not be easily found. His bed, if it could be called one, was a thin mattress, stained with patches of blood, mostly old. His pillow was a bundle of cloth scraps in a sack. He spotted a rat or two vanishing in the darkness.

Judging by the sound of the scream, it was outside the storeroom. It was a woman's scream, half laced with sobbing.

"Please, no! I'll get the money today, please don't-"

He flinched as he heard a loud slap and the woman's pleas stopped.

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No, no. What happened while he was unconscious?

With some struggling, he managed to push away the length of wood pinning him down. Ignoring the pain in his chest, he quickly got up on his feet. He looked around.

The scent of burnt flesh and blood filled the air, mixing with the smoky air. The building he was next to was nothing more than a pile of smoldering wood and ashes. As so were the others. The only sound he could hear was the crackling of wood burning.

The children, what happened to the children? Did they escape? Did they die?

He ran down the street, head turning left and right for any sign of life. But he only found the corpses of knights and horses, some burnt, each one still wearing armor. Sometimes he would find the body of one the poorer citizens, but they were dead as well.

He started screaming their names, growing more and more desperate as no one responded to his cries.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He did not know how long he laid there, clutching the horse toy, sobbing his eyes out as he mourned for the body of the young girl, crushed underneath the falling debris. At one point, he fell into a dreamless sleep, waking up to the feeling of rain falling on his face.

Looking up, he saw that storm clouds had gathered over the fallen kingdom. It had just begun raining, putting out any remaining fires and washing away the ashes and blood.

He sat there, watching the skies began to grow darker, and the light rainfall quickly becoming heavier and stronger.

At first, he didn't want to stand up, simply wanting to die next to the child, but a glimmer of hope shone within him.

What if the other children were alive? He didn't see any other bodies (other than adult and one child's corpse...) Maybe he could find them. Or even join them as they travelled, far, far away, away from the all the bloodshed, the tyrant, the horrors and terrors of the past. They would have better lives, adopted by caring parents, be well-fed and live without the fear of death and eyes watching their every move.

But they would miss him. He was their jester, their fool, a spot of light in the Kings' rule. He cheered them up when every thing was dark, gave them trinkets to play with, staged small plays and acts with them. He was one of the few joys the people had. He was their hope.

He needed to find them. But how?

• Former jester of a corrupted kingdom
• Never stops smiling
• Loves children
• Has a LOT of scars
• Practically numb to pain
• Doesn't care for his own safety
• Has to be dragged to the Healer's Cove because whenever he gets wounded he barely acknowledges the injury
• Very observant
• Will cheer up any children in his vicinity
• Actually dead, but revived for unknown reasons