Glass: A Collection of Rainimator Backstories

Flint

Flint paused, his gaze fixed on Daryll's grave, lost in the memories of their shared history. Azura, seated beside him, waited silently, sensing the weight of Flint's emotions. The cool wind flurried the snowy tundra around them, and she finally spoke, breaking the silence.

"I never knew you and Daryll went so far back," Azura said softly, her voice laced with empathy. "You both must have meant a lot to each other."

Flint nodded, his eyes distant. "Yeah, we did. He was... everything to me. We were just kids trying to survive, but even then, Daryll had this fire in him. He wanted to change things, to help those who had nothing like he once did." He sighed, glancing at Azura. "But it wasn't all heroic. We made mistakes... big ones."

Azura leaned in, encouraging him to continue. "Like what? What happened after you met?"

Flint hesitated, then began to spoke, his voice a mix of nostalgia and regret. "We grew up in that settlement, and as we got older, things only got tougher. Daryll had this idea that we could help people by taking from those who had more than they needed. He wanted to redistribute the wealth to the less fortunate." Flint chuckled bitterly. "It was noble in a way, but... it wasn't as simple as we thought."

...

(Flint POV)

Daryll stood tall, his voice carrying over the murmurs of the gathered bandits. "We can't just stand by and watch people starve while others live luxuriously! If we take just a little from those who can afford it, we can help so many."

I watched, feeling a mixture of admiration and apprehension within me. Daryll's charisma was undeniable, and I had followed him into the fledgling bandit group, drawn both by his ideals, and a deep-seated affection I had yet to fully understand.

But not everyone agreed with Daryll's vision. Sven, a taller and older bandit, with a perpetually skeptical expression, stood up, crossing his arms. "And why should we give away what we risk our necks to steal? If we're the ones doing the dirty work, shouldn't we be the ones to benefit? Think of how much more we could get if we used that money towards gambling!"

Daryll's eyes flashed with anger. "This isn't about personal gain, Sven. It never was. It's about fairness, about helping those who can't help themselves."

Sven sneered. "That's easy for you to say. Some of us are tired of scraping by! We need to think about our own survival. So what if a couple of poor saps don't get money that WE stole? If we're alright in the end, that's what should really matter."

The argument escalated, with Daryll insisting on sharing their spoils with the needy, while Sven and a few others grumbled about looking out for themselves. I was caught in the middle of it, feeling a pang of fear. The group was fracturing... I could see it before my eyes, and the tension was palpable.

A few days later, I had stayed within the bandit hideout we had set up in an abandoned home with the other bandits. Daryll and Sven had gone out for their biggest heist yet, and I was instructed to stay and keep watch at the hideout, ensuring they had a safehouse to sneak the loot into. I anxiously waited, seated at an old dusty table with a couple other bandits. It felt like hours before the door finally creaked open and Sven came into the room.

"Lookie what we got here guys!" Sven exclaimed as he dropped the hefty bag full of valuable gold and silver onto the table before us, "Today we'll be eating good, and we will continue to prosper from here on out!"

I stood up from the table and approached Sven, with worry in my eyes. "Sven, where's Daryll?" 

Sven laughed a hearty laugh before he stomped his boot onto the table, causing an echoey clop in the room, breaking the silence that followed. "We don't need to worry about that sorry sap no more. He's dead meat for all we care!"