Random Rainimator Stories

Runaway Nostra - Part 1

This is based on a dream I had and Running from Demons by Waterflame. The name of this story is taken directly from the name I gave this dream. This story was also meant to be published before the Pumpkin Carving Competition story but a lack of motivation to write this delayed it.

Chatter filled the air as Nostra's footsteps mingled in the town. It was a busy afternoon with Market Day just hitting its peak. Nostra looked at the various stalls being set up, each one catching their curiosity more than the last.

"Oh! Look at the ducks!" Nostra snapped out of their thoughts and turned to the Netherkin. That was Stella, always amazed by the little things in life, Nostra thought. Nostra stifled a huff as they looked to where Stella was pointing. Multiple ducks were drifting in and out of the pond, some trying to use each other as couches. Rain reacted with a chuckle. Nostra stopped in front of the pond and gazed at the ducks. They slowly turned to look at the laughing duo, coughing to gain their attention.

"I have the money to gather resources that Ser Patrick has requested we stock before returning to the Frostbourne. You two go find someplace for us and the horses to rest tonight."

Stella and Rain nodded. Nostra opened their satchel and pulled out an apple and a carrot, handing the food to Rain. Rain looked at Nostra, confused.

"It's for the horses. Unless you're about to grow some hooves and gallop your way back to the Frostbourne."

Stella snorted as she took the food from Nostra. "Don't worry, Mx! We'll get those horses nice and ready for tomorrow's journey! You'll do your part and we'll do ours, right Rain?"

Rain snapped out of his trance upon hearing Stella call his name. He nodded distractedly as Stella linked an arm with him. Together, the two walked to the horses, tied to a post by the town's gate.

Nostra sighed. Love, not that they could relate or anything. Except they could, they just hated admitting it. Their lover was somewhere out there, fighting the Nether Horde. Yet here was Nostra, about to buy some supplies in a town they had never stepped foot in before. Nostra would have preferred if she had come along, but her duties involve commanding an army, not going on adventures to find an end crystal.

Nostra went over to a map posted on the town's news board. Children laughed as they ran around the market, playing with newly bought trinkets. That's when the whispers started. Nostra saw them, saw the locals covering their mouths with their hands as they whispered of Nostra's presence. Nostra simply scowled, ignoring the whispers as they scanned the various posters of stalls up and running for Market Day. The whispers faded away as Nostra began to head away from the market and into the nearby shop.

"We don't get folk like you in this town."

Nostra paused to look at the shopkeeper, their expression unreadable with the mask on their face. Their hand withdrew from the counter, the money still attempting to escape against their clutched fingers.

"Pardon?" they asked, confusion evident in their tone.

"Are you deaf? I said 'We don't get folk like you in this town.'"

"Pardon my ignorance, I heard you the first time. I'm just appalled you would make such a statement. What's so unique about me that you had to make that comment?"

Nostra always knew they weren't like most people growing up. They had always stood out, fascinated by the wrong things as some would say. Perhaps it was evident in their way of speaking, their appearance even. Yet, those fascinations are what made Nostra into who they are today. It's why Nostra wore the title The Occult Doctor. Nostra never minded the opinions of others, but this comment felt different, somehow.

The shopkeeper tilted his head and stared hard at Nostra. "We don't wear masks like those. Nobody here does. The black death died centuries ago."

Anybody would have seen Nostra grit their teeth if the mask hadn't been on. Of course, it was the mask. The mask had protected them from harm's way ever since they had found it. The mask made it clear who the Occult Doctor was. Yet, that wasn't the only reason Nostra wore the mask. It was the only thing left of their mother.

"The disease may be dead but I am the cure. Cures never die out; they only grow and change," Nostra snapped.

The shopkeeper folded his arms. "You're a damn fool if you think you can show your face–or in this case, your mask–in this town and expect to get away unharmed. The black death killed many in this town centuries ago and the scars are still there to prove it. People like you came and went, boasting about curing our town, but we have never fully healed. You may think you're doing good but know this: your appearance alone is the sign of hatred in our town."

Nostra was always good at hiding their fear, but even with their mask on, it was evident that they felt threatened. Their body had tensed, their grip on their money straining their hand. Shaky breaths escaped their lips, their chest rising and falling like a stormy ocean. They took a step back as the shopkeeper raised an eyebrow.

"Oh-ho! Looks like I struck a nerve with the cure!" he roared. Nostra flinched as the money in their hand finally spilled onto the counter. The shopkeeper grinned as he collected and counted the coins, sliding eleven coins back towards Nostra.

"It's best you get out of here, little bird. Your time here is overdue. It won't be long before you're hunted." Nostra gathered the items cautiously, storing their purchased goods in their satchel. "Let the hunters know that this little bird bites back," Nostra snapped as they stormed away. The shopkeeper only laughed cruelly. "You'll be biting more than you can chew, little bird. Spread your wings and take flight before they come for you."

The sun was beginning to set, casting dancing shadows on the stalls. Nostra's body arched in suspense as their eyes trailed their surroundings, each step more weary than the last. Rain and Stella were not in sight but the glares of the locals were. Nostra quickened their pace and neared the outer gate.

The horses were gone, not even a trace of their existence in sight. Laughter began to echo in Nostra's ears and they turned back, seeing the townsfolk staring right at them and the children cornering Nostra.

"Your companions have already left," a farmer snorted. Nostra edged closer to the front gate. The children came closer, circling Nostra as they held hands and began to dance around Nostra.

"Ring-a-ring o' roses, a pocket full of posies. A-tishoo! A-tishoo! We all fall down!"

One by one, the children fell, their laughter ringing in Nostra's ears. It was a silly nursery rhyme, sure, but it was one associated with the black death. Nostra's stomach lurched as the children slowly sat up, staring at them with wide smiles.

"Your town seems lovely, very lovely indeed, but it's best that I get going!" Nostra cried with fake enthusiasm. They neared the gate even more, their gloved fingertips brushing against the old wood. The townsfolk only seemed to get closer and closer. Nostra gulped, the gate creaking under their grasp. They had one chance to run and one chance only. One.