The Man of the Thread

No day spent on the Sorlan Badlands was longer than those endured by the Man of the Thread. The Man of the Thread could always be found seated at his peg stool, meticulously running the needle through the cloth until a jacket was made. Next he would hang the jacket and begin another, stopping only to eat and sleep.

Such were his ways, until he saw a couple. Fragile and pale, they were obviously not of the region and lost in the deep eternal mist of the badlands.

The Man of the Thread paused his work, and stroked his beard as he watched the couple dart their heads about in confusion. He stood to give directions to the couple, when a mass of Groughs appeared. The Man of the Thread immediately changed his direction to that of the Sheriff's shack.

However by the time he left his ramshackle hut, the Groughs had already beaten the couple, anything of value was with the Groughs: vanished without a trace. The Man of the Thread stared in horror at the sight the Groughs had left, hearing only the most eerie of silences. After a terrified pause, the Man of the Thread began to return to his work, when he heard a cry that quickly became a belly ache.

The Man of Thread looked down and saw an infant crying for its mother. Out of pity and sadness for the couple, he bent down and took the Infant in his arms. He slowed its crying and took it inside.

The sun had set so quickly.

The Infant was fed and the Man of the Thread continued his work on the jacket.

Years passed and the Infant grew into a fine Young Man. The Man of the Thread taught his new son how to sew and create clothing. By the time the Man of the Thread had finished teaching his son, his son was already beginning to sew as well as he did. With the Young Man grown, came knowledge outside of basic living habits and sewing. Knowledge that one day prompted the Young Man to ask his father a question.

"Father," he began, carefully ensuring minimal disturbance in his father's sewing, "Where is my mother?"

The Man of the Thread put down his needle, and set the pair of pants aside.

"She is gone," he replied sadly "Along with your father."

The Young Man seemed confused, yet he sat and listened to the man's tale. He told him of the Groughs and of his parents foreign origins.

After the tale there was a long uncomfortable silence that followed. It was broken by the closing of a door, when the Young Man left the ramshackle house for a walk trough the badlands. The Man of the Thread simply returned to his work knowing that as odd as a walk in the badlands was, the Young Man had to make due with anything that would allow him to think about what he had learned.

On his long walk, the Young Man saw a Grough gnawing a bone. The Young Man had always known to avoid Groughs for no one knew where they came from or when they would leave. All they knew was that the Groughs were dangerous and unkind, even to each other.

These thoughts in his head, the Young Man ran to get away from the Grough. However, he was stopped by a sharp hand on his foot. The Young Man was shocked to find the Grough crouched over him raising a blood-stained club over his head. Fearing death, the Young Man shut his eyes, but in place of the great pain he expected he instead felt nothing. He opened his eyes, and watched the Grough drop his club.

"After all this time." he muttered.

"What on earth do you mean?" The Young Man stuttered.

"I saw you as a child." The Grough replied.

"So you killed my parents?" The Young Man blurted.

"No," continued the Grough. "It appears someone has misled you."