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Fanfiction ► Elias' Story (Tentative Title)

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Blackest Night

High Priest of Sloanism
Apr 15, 2004
Depends upon the day and if there is free pizza.
This is my story. It is heavily based on Avatar, but I think it's done rather well. It's 36 pages in word so far, but I won't post it all at once. I will give you the first three chapters.

Chapter 1
“You ready?”

A bird some short distance away chirped pleasantly.


“Oh come on, it can’t be that bad.”

“Shut up.”

The naysayer laid spread eagled on the ground, his eyes staring up at the sky overhead. His face was scrunched into a frown and he did his very best not to look at the other man. The shadows of trees danced across his face, the light breeze doing the same along his skin. The fallen men let out a tired sigh.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be, Elias?”

Apparently, Elias had not caught the hint, for he glanced at a nearby sundial and cheerfully announced that no, he did not, in fact, have anywhere to be. Elias, barefooted as per usual, walked through the short grass to his negative friend and, with tremendous ease, lifted him from the ground. This was no simple task, considering that the man himself, named Belayeh, was a rather large fellow. Had Elias not been extremely tall himself and in the possession of a physique capable of intimidating the most stubborn of troublemakers, he may have had some difficulty.

Belayeh sighed once more.

“Go to work, Elias.”

Elias laughed. His naturally cheerful disposition was infectious and spread to nearly everything. Only Belayeh was immune to it. The two were nearly total opposites, a quality that, of course, led them to become very close friends.

“Sure. I could use the money anyway.”

Belayeh’s answer was a disaffected grunt. With Belayeh evidently in no mood to talk, much less continue with their practicing, Elias simply turned and walked away. With Elias’ retreating back facing him, Belayeh grinned. His right foot moved in a wide arc just above the grass, his left hand making a rising motion as he swung it across his body.

Elias suddenly found himself tripping over a miniscule wall of stone that had not been there moments ago. Catching himself, he turned back to see Belayeh chuckling.



Elias’ words were accompanied by a retaliation of his own. By the time he had finished his insult, Elias had forced a block of solid stone as tall as he was to rise from the earth. With a grunt and a powerful pushing motion, the wall tore across the ground, with Elias running behind it.

Work could wait.

Chapter 2

Elias, like all citizens of his nation, had been schooled in the art of earth manipulation. It was commonplace for productive members of society to use this knowledge in everyday life. Hardly a day went by without a carpenter using stone to cut his lumber, or a gem crafter manipulating diamond so that it radiated with such brilliance that it was unequaled anywhere else in the world. It was for these reasons that the kingdom of Selocus was renowned for its grand buildings, massive cathedrals, and unsurpassed jewelry.

Few were entirely sure why the people of Selocian descent were granted such abilities, but it was well known that other nations had similar gifts. The people of Xepphire, for example, could manipulate the whistling winds, and people of Carthanian blood wielded water as if it were an extension of their own bodies. Not all gifts were quite so glorious, however. The Sibhanese could change their skin color from maroon to magenta polka dots, and the Wilkonians, along with their fellow nomads the Jusotans, held the ability to make their hair grow at an oddly fast rate. As such, many of them bore hair long enough to trip over and the men displayed beards styled into all sorts of intricate designs. After hearing to the Wilkonians and Jusotans, Elias had thought of his own, ear length hair and neat, brown goatee, and silently thanked the Great One that he was not cursed with that “gift.”

The streets of Selocus were paved with, well, dirt. This was not because its people were unclean, its government poor, or some such other nonsense. It simply allowed the Selocians to feel at home. Their connection with the earth was best when they were touching it themselves, leading to streets cloudy with fine dust and crowded with barefoot citizens. In order to physically handle the strain of moving the earth itself, Selocians were blessed with tall statures and muscles slightly larger than most normal humans were. Natives of Selocia were often employed as bodyguards in other nations. The ground and buildings themselves became weapons and those with masterful abilities could move along walls and ceilings without making any noise at all. Their size alone was enough to deter most would-be attackers. They were quiet and deadly, almost as much as the fire-wielding Essumians.

However, Elias was no bodyguard. He was no agent, scholar, sage, or a member of any grand office. Elias was a masseuse, a good one at that. He was employed by a local spa, called The Amber Sands, and was by no means paid an exorbitant sum to work there. Unable to afford fine Xepphirean silk, Elias wore simple clothes, such as his current outfit, an open, sleeveless black gi and plain black pants. His wrists were clad in braces of black leather and false gold trim, with similar jewelry adorning his ankles. He had slightly tan skin, light brown eyes, and dark chestnut hair, traits shares by most of the Selocian populace, many of whom were on or below his financial level.

But finances were the furthest thing from Elias’ mind at the moment. Yes, it was true that his employer would likely be furious at him for being late, but he was far too preoccupied with everything around him to be concerned with such things. Elias lived in one of the major Selocian cities and was always excited to see what foreign curiosities were making a pit stop here. Some time ago, when Elias had taken to weaving in and out of merchant tents, attempting to satisfy his unending thirst for new experiences, he had met with an Essumian girl. She had originally been in poverty, but had been invited, or in her words “taken”, from her home to enjoy life as a traveling dancer. Like all Essumians, she generated more ambient heat from her body than any other race and as the heat had rolled over Elias, he found it difficult to restrain his eyes from wandering over her body. Fortunately, she seemed to be used to this, giggled, and placed a light kiss on Elias’ cheek through her silken veil. It had burned for a second, but he hadn’t minded. There were no such Essumian beauties today, but Elias was entranced nonetheless. Merchants from Xepphire had brought with them amusing wind-activated trinkets. Small children had gathered around the Xepphirean tents to watch these small, almost emaciated people working air through hollow tubes and whistles. Essumian candles, famous for being able to burn for an entire day without extinguishing, were lined up along a table. A bearded Essumian merchant made the flames dance and flicker to the music of a Xepphirean street performer, playing his airy tune through a complex instrument of intertwining wooden pipes. There was even a pair of nomads from the Wilkon and Jusoto tribes, selling bottles of hair growth lotion to men, and hair combs to any woman unfortunate enough as to pass by them. Wilkonian men were notoriously lecherous. The passing Selocian women, however, found it nothing short of hilarious and from what Elias could tell, it took a great deal of their self control not to burst out in laughter at the sight of the nomads’ complex beards.

“You sir! A bottle of growth lotion for that meager thing you call a beard? Grow a full-blown mane in just days! Women love it and men respect it!”

One of the nomadic merchants pointed an almost accusatory finger at Elias, as if condemning him for not possessing a beard of great length. Elias simply smiled, hiding a snicker in his throat, and backed away slowly. The merchants continued to call out to him, but the crowd had already swallowed up Elias. He had had his fun and, unfortunately, it was high time he actually got around to going to work. His boss would be furious.

Chapter 3
Twenty minutes and three verbal lashings later, Elias had been welcomed into another day at work. The Amber Sands was, despite the wages given to its employees, a rather nicely decorated place. Many of the “rooms” were little more than outdoor spaces, filled with sand gardens, calm fountains, and white stones laid out to create paths through the short, green grass. The tinkling of wind chimes served to lull most of the patients into sleep, aided by the hands of whatever masseuse they were granted. The lucky ones got either Elias or a remarkably soft-voiced woman named Inia. The unfortunate customers, or those who ordered the least expensive package, were rewarded with Helara, a beast of a woman whose size could, truthfully, put Elias to shame. She was a very nice woman, however, once one got past the bulging biceps and the mole located precisely in the center of her forehead. Some had sworn they saw it pulse. Elias had once been on very good terms with Helara. This had ended when she had begun to have feelings for himand Elias, far too afraid to confront her on his own, asked a woman friend of his to pose as his lover. After that, Helara had stopped talking to him. It was all for the best, really. No matter how hard he tried, whenever Helara spoke, Elias couldn’t help but look to see if the mole really pulsated.

Helara was, thankfully, nowhere near Elias today. He had been assigned to the Obsidian Garden, an outdoor theatre an, unsurprisingly, obsidian stage around which various massage beds had been placed. It was a room reserved for some of the most high-paying customers to ever grace The Amber Sands with their presence. Personally, Elias found them haughty, but money was money and tips were graciously appreciated. Elias’ current patient had been complaining of a thorny sensation in his side. From what Elias gathered from the idle chitchat that passed between them, the thorny sensation was his wife and no amount of massage could rid him of that.

“I’m here for the entertainment, today.”

Entertainment? Elias hadn’t been told of any entertainment. Then again, there was a large obsidian stage in the center of the garden, and several Essumian musicians had been standing on it for quite some time, a black curtain strung up in the center of the stage itself. Elias was never the most intelligent student in school. Curiosity struck him. This was the Obsidian Garden, and its guests were almost obscenely wealthy. The entertainment had to be good. Elias had noticed that, judging from the rings on their hands, quite a few married men had scheduled their appointments for today. Interesting.

One of the Essumians struck a drum. Another began a slow, teasing melody on its sitar while his fellow musician ran his hand along a series of small, metal chimes. The black curtain rippled like dark water and from its depths stepped a creature like no other. A nameless musician began a low, but pressing rhythm on his drums as another began to play his flute.

She was gorgeous. Long brown waves traveled from the top of her head to the small of her back, bouncing fluidly against her olive skin as she swayed to the melodic sounds. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted slightly as she began to loose herself in the music. As an Essumian, she let off waves of tantalizing heat. Elias, along with every other person in the room, was bombarded with the soporific warmth. The lullaby of warming waves, coupled with the expert hands of the masseuses, proved too much for some of the patients, who began to fall asleep under their combined influence.

She had them under her spell. Now all she had to work was make it work.

This nameless lady, dressed in red and black with a veil hung across the lower half of her face, stepped closer to the edge of the stage. The black curtain behind her was lit aflame, the fires traveling slowly up its fabric in a mesmerizing display of crimson waves. It wasn’t long before the curtain was no more, and the lady had complete control over the stage and the eyes of all who watched her. Smoke from incense sticks swirled around her, and then was suddenly cast aside as she swung an arm languidly through the air. Silver bracelets on her wrists jingled lightly. Her rips rotated hypnotically. She raised her hands to the sky beyond the black ceiling above her and on a particularly loud beat of a drum…

Clapped. Loudly and suddenly. A shower of sparks fell down around her, lighting various parts of her body for mere moments, then fizzling into nothing. One of the drummers increased his rhythm, the sitar and flute players playing at a slightly fast speed. Still taunting, still teasing, yet it was almost as if the music itself placed a pressure on the spectators. Few could tear their eyes away, and those who did had only managed that feat by falling prey to the warmth and comfort.

The woman began to rotate quickly, walking with grace and fluidity barefoot across the stage. Her long scarlet skirt became wavy as she rotated her hips once more, causing her belt of bells to chime. Another loud drum beat. The sitar and flute played faster. A snake of fire began to slither its way up the woman’s arm. It caressed her shoulder and wound around her neck, passing over a black choker that held a gleaming ruby within it. The snake slid down the lady’s other arm, dissipating into nothingness as it reached the palm of her hand.

Another drum beat. The sitar and flute played faster. The nameless lady began to spin on the ball of her foot in the very center of the stage. Slowly, she placed her arms close together and raised them both to the sky. A ribbon of flame erupted from them and encircled her body as she continued to spin. The drumbeat was even louder this time. The sitar and flute were practically frantic. The music was reaching a crescendo, the woman spinning faster, faster as the music grew louder, and louder.

A final drum beat. The woman stomped her heel upon the ground, the ribbon of flame soaring down her leg and leaving her body I a ring of fire that rolled across the stage and extinguished itself as it left the obsidian floor. The flute let out one long, melancholy note and the woman took an Essumian bow, one leg placed in front of the other, bending at the waist with one arm held across her body while the other hung at her side.

She was rewarded with applause. Had there been more patrons, it would have undoubtedly been thunderous. Elias had taken his hands away from his patient to clap too, when an irritated “Hey!” issued forth from the patron. Elias quickly brought his hands back to the man’s back, yet his eyes remained on the woman. She flashed the entire group a quick, impersonal smile, yet everyone felt as if it were meant solely for them. She was led off the stage, walking with each step placed directly in front of the other to accentuate the swaying of her hips and the waves of her skirt.

“That’s enough young man. I said that’s enough!”

Elias considered pummeling this man into the ground for interrupting his thoughts. However, courtesy was a necessity and Elias quietly apologized and went back to soothing the man’s nonexistent pain. However, one of the most fantastic things about being a masseuse is the secrets patrons let loose when relaxed.

“Lovely dancer, isn’t she? I am thinking of asking the king to hire her as a personal entertainer. He and I are very good friends, you know.”

Elias was far from interested.

“Really now?”

“Oh yes. We talk all the time. Play your cards right, young man, and you might just find yourself as a personal masseuse to the nobles. Yes, good things to happen even to people like you.”

“You don’t say?”

“Oh, it’s quite alright, young man. There is no need to be ashamed of your status. Urchins can rise through the ranks, you know. I’m sure the king and his nobles would be delighted to be massaged while that fine women dances for them.”

Hardly believable. Thankful that his patron could not see him, Elias had rolled his eyes and mocking mouthed the noble’s words as he spoke. Elias had very little faith in ever rising noticeably through the ranks of society, nor did he truly wish for anything grand. He was quite content with staying at his simple job and living a life free of the complications of politics.

“Did you hear me, young man?”

“Oh yes. I agree.”

“Ah, you’re a smart fellow. You are quite right to acknowledge the importance of local gem farming in the economic and political system of Selocus. The miners are indeed worthy of compensation for their laborious efforts and as such, do deserve a rise in wages and maybe, just maybe, a .3 percent share in the total surplus of gemstones. Well done, young man. What did you say your name was again?”


“Elias what?”

“Just Elias.”

“Ah yes. Last names are for nobles, I suppose. We must find a way to distinguish ourselves from one another, you know.”
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