User blog:Aravis Tarkheena/LMBWFF Part Alemas

YAY, A DEVIATION. Today I present to you half of the biography of our very own dear Alemas. It was supposed to be a one-shot but it got too long. Many thanks to Indy, who helped me with this, and to Alemas himself for being such an intriguing person. And I swear by our Sweet Princess Celestia that each word of this is true. Read away. And comment. Please. It's painful when you don't. :c

PART ALEMAS

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, a story began. However, I’m not here to tell that story, so shut up and read.

A SERIES OF BITES: THE LIFE STORY OF ALEMAS

One day, about a classified number of years ago, on the Italian island of Ponza, there was an egg. No further remarks on the appearance of the egg can be made, except that it must have looked rather interesting. In any case, it was interesting enough to bring itself to the attention of a visiting ornithologist.

This ornithologist was a dwarf from Middle Earth, who went by the name Obi and had come to Ponza for his vacation. He stumbled across the egg on one of his regular walks, and, intrigued by its rare appearance, decided to wait and see what sort of bird would hatch from it.

In due time, the egg hatched, revealing a small child with the hair, scarf, and attire of the Fourth Doctor. Obi the Ornithologist was delighted at this new species of bird he thought he’d found, so he decided to keep the child and take him back home with him to Middle Earth.

As you may have guessed, this ornithologist is the very same Obi we know now. He tried to raise his bird-child properly, but, since Obi thought of him as a bird, he didn’t exactly raise the child properly. This explains why the child, to this day, isn’t quite right in the head. However, Obi did have the sense to give a name to his bird-child, and the name he bestowed upon him was Awamas, which had been the first sound from the child’s mouth. We can also be glad that Obi didn’t name the child after himself.

For the first several months of Awamas’ young life, things were going well. With no greater struggles than avoiding the bird-food Obi tried to feed him, he thrived and grew like a normal baby. Even though he wasn’t quite right in the head.

However, like most good times, this came to a sad end. One day, Obi decided to work on his tan and left Awamas alone at home. Everything seemed alright; Awamas was sitting on the porch of his birdcage singing songs to himself, when all of a sudden, a social butterfly appeared out of nowhere. After trying to engage baby Awamas in conversation, and being ignored by Awamas, who was too busy singing, the butterfly flew into a rage and bit the baby, who promptly screamed and crawled into his birdcage to huddle, quaking, on the perch. The butterfly smiled maliciously and flew away, never to be seen again.

Awamas stayed on the perch of his birdcage, nursing the butterfly bite. He wasn’t singing anymore. He was fed up with being treated like a bird, fed up with Middle Earth, and fed up with Obi. He made up his 10-month-old mind right then and there, and started packing his bags. He was leaving. He’d live as he pleased, go where he wanted, and never eat any bird-food again. But also… he’d avoid being social. He’d learned his lesson once and that was enough.

When Obi returned, Awamas was gone. He’d taken all the bacon, three pieces of gold, and his spare scarf. All he owned in the world. As Obi watched the door of the empty birdcage swing idly in the wind, he wondered what he’d done.

Awamas decided not to return to Italy; if Obi were to search for him, it would be an obvious place to look. So he set out for Geneva in Switzerland, the centre of the world, and didn’t look back.

Not surprisingly, Obi gave chase, and, as predicted, searched in Italy. No luck. By now, however, rumours were making their way around about a 1-year-old travelling through Europe alone. Obi would have ignored them if it were not for the fact that the child was purported to sing incessantly and drag a long, colourful scarf around with him. That was beginning to sound rather familiar, even though Obi was searching for a bird, not a baby. But his curiosity was piqued, so he followed the rumours to Geneva.

Awamas, as soon as he got wind of Obi, and terrified at the thought of having to eat bird-food for the rest of his life, didn’t waste any time. He packed up his bacon, gold pieces, and extra scarf, and fled. This time, he took a circuitous route to help hide his trail, wrapped his scarf around his face to avoid recognition, and didn’t sing one note. And as we all know, no one notices babies that run around Europe wrapped up in scarves. He passed through France, Belgium, Germany, Austria… all the while trotting as fast as his 1-year-and-3-month-old feet could carry him. He attempted to cross through Serbia, but was stopped briefly and bitten by Novak Djokovic, who he would go on to despise for the rest of his life. After that incident, he turned around and headed northwest, through Romania, Moldova, and into Ukraine.

Finally, he stumbled across the deserted city of Pripyat, in Ukraine, intrigued by this dead, empty town. It was quite fascinating… everything looked almost normal, if not a little shabby, but no one lived there. Awamas decided it was perfect for him. Obi wouldn’t find him here easily. He could live off his bacon for a long time.

And so, Awamas found himself a hidey-hole, and scavenged bits and pieces from around the town to furnish it. He kept his gold pieces wrapped in his spare scarf for whenever he might need them. However, unbeknownst to him, as he lived his happy little life, eating bacon every day, the radiation in the air was affecting him. But its effects were rather abnormal… it was really all the fault of his hairstyle. It attracted the radiation more toward his head, and into his brain. It slowly took its toll, mutating his brain into the unique mess it remains in to this day.

But ignorance is bliss, so Awamas basked in the radiation, eating his bacon, counting his gold pieces, and tying knots in his scarves. His happiness was marred only by (not bird-food) one unsavory event. A wild araivs had been lurking around down for some time, and one day found its way to Awamas’ hidey-hole, and without further ado, bit him quite sharply. (Wild araivses have a habit of doing this, but tame ones are rather nice, so I’ve heard.) Furious, Awamas chased it away, but not before it stole two pieces of bacon. Awamas was devastated, and vowed never to associate with wild araivses ever again. (He never met an araivs again in his life, fortunately. Unfortunately, araivses and Aravises are very similar in appearance, so, very sadly, Awamas never talked to Aravis more than necessary. This has broken her heart many times, because, as the object of her affections, he would never return the sentiment. Excuse the author for a moment as she weeps in despair.)

Aside from the araivs bite, everything was going fine—until the day Awamas ran out of bacon. This was a very major catastrophe on par with the sinking of the Titanic and Lusitania, the Spanish Influenza, the eruption of Krakatoa, the September 11 attacks, the War of 1812 (which the Canadians won, fools), the death of Yassen Gregorovich, giving women the vote*, and the publishing of The Great Gatsby, also known as The Worst Book Ever. Anyways, BOT!

Awamas had run out of bacon. Now, he’d have to find more food or starve. The future looked bleak… but then he remembered. This was his third birthday. He was all grown up now, almost an adult! He could do this. He was old enough to be a man.

So, again, he packed up. This time, he only had the gold and his extra scarf. Then he set off for Moscow, because he had always thought it had a cool name. The trip went by uneventfully. Awamas spent a large amount of time wondering what he would do in Russia, and concluded that he’d get a job wherever he could. He’d save up what he earned, and if he liked Moscow, he’d stick around. If not, there was always the rest of the world to explore.

After some time, he reached Moscow as planned. He’d spent two of his gold pieces on food for the trip, but Awamas was fortunate enough to get a job on his very first day there. Or rather, he forced his way into a job.

Having decided that he wanted to do something “interesting”, he decided the best way to find that was to look for interesting people. Obviously, interesting people were found in interesting places, so after some observation, he staked out the most interesting place he could find. It was a dark alley in a corner of the city, not frequented by many people, but the people that came there certainly were interesting enough to satisfy Awamas. He thought they looked kind of shady, but if they were interesting, certainly they couldn’t be that bad. He observed a lot of money being exchanged and packages being handed over… that must be a good sign.

And the interesting people didn’t mind Awamas, except to give him a second glance as they passed by. So he wrapped his scarf around his face for safety; they started giving him third glances after that, but at least no one could recognise him.

After a while, he picked out the most interesting person of them all, and intent on getting a job with him, followed him after he left the alley. With his short stature, and scarf-hidden face, Awamas successfully stalked the Interesting Man until he entered a building. Awamas entered a moment later and accosted him. “I need a job.”

The Interesting Man looked at him incredulously. If his eyes didn’t lie, he was looking at a be-scarfed toddler wearing the sized-down clothes of a grown man, and smelled faintly of bacon. “Who are you?”

“Myself. And I need a job.”

“You’re a little young.”

“”I just turned three,” Awamas said disgustedly. “And I need a job.”

“You don’t know what I do, kid.”

“You look interesting, so you must do something cool. I need a job.”

“Listen, kid. I can’t help you.”

“No. I can help you. I need a job.”

“You can’t do what I do, kid. It’s for grown-ups.”

“I am a grown up,” Awamas said menacingly. “I just told you I’m three. You don’t get much more grown up than that. I need a job.”

“You can’t do what I do, kid,” the Interesting Man repeated, getting rather uncomfortable under Awamas’ stare.

“Let me try. I need a job.”

“Listen, kid. I’m an assassin for the Russian mafia; I don’t need your help,” the man growled, hoping to intimidate the child.

Awamas nodded wisely. “So let me try. I bet I can do it. I need a job.”

The Interesting Man sighed. “Just to let you see, you can come with me now. I’m on my way to a kill. And if things go well, maybe you can even try,” said the man, highly exasperated.

Awamas nodded again. “Then you’ll give me a job.”

“Maybe.”

“Yes. You will.”

“Shut up, kid. Let’s go.”

The kill went swimmingly. The Interesting Man hadn’t even pulled out his weapon of choice before Awamas had choked the target to death with his spare scarf. Then he turned to the man. “Give me a job.”

The man sighed again. He hadn’t expected this. He’d hoped Awamas would lose his nerve and back out. “Look, kid. I can’t help you. I don’t make the decisions myself. You’ll have to find someone else.”

“Take me to the person who hired you. I need a job.”

“Kid, you don’t want to get mixed with the Russian mafia. You’re not even in school yet. You should go home to your parents.”

In a flash, Awamas had his scarf wrapped tightly around the Interesting Man’s, soon to potentially be Interesting Corpse’s, neck. “I said, I’m three,” Awamas said, punctuating his words with yanks on the scarf. “And I can do this. I need a job.”

“Fine,” the man choked. “Come.”

And so, Awamas became the youngest, most effective, and highly feared hitman for the Russian mafia. The pay was good—very good. Awamas hadn’t expected to make so much. As before, he kept it wrapped in his spare scarf, but only when he wasn’t doing a kill. Then he needed both scarves, one for his face, and one for the murder.

The only highly remarkable change in Awamas’ life was brought about by himself. One day, after some inquiring, he sought out the gang boss with a request.

“Mr. Boss, I need a new name.”

The boss was not amused. “You’re not supposed to know who I am, kid.”

“I did my research. It wasn’t that hard. I need a new name.”

The boss had heard exceptional reports about this invincible child who was glaring up at him, so he decided it couldn’t hurt to humour him. “What’s wrong with your name?”

Awamas sighed dramatically. “It reminds me of my past… it was given to me by a man I hate, and it carries around all the unhappy memories of when I wasn’t the richest and most notorious 3-year-old in the world.” He paused, looking sorrowful. “Besides, it sounds stupid.”

The boss was pleased that Awamas was enjoying his new lifestyle. “So you want something more powerful, more suited to your position in life.”

Awamas nodded. “But not something too fancy.”

“Then… I think ‘Alemas’ should do. It sounds more commanding.” The boss hesitated, then added, “But don’t Google it.”

“Alemas… that’s rather sophisticated., but not too elaborate. It should do.”

“Anything else you want?” the boss asked.

“What do you do for a job? I want to know.”

“It would be better if you didn’t, kid.”

“I want to know. Maybe I’d like it.”

“Kid, no. You’re fine as an assassin, you don’t need to be a gang boss. Now go, I have work to do.”

And, very worried about his job security, the boss watched as Alemas trotted away on his 3-year-and-5-month-old feet. That kid was getting dangerous. It he wanted something, he’d eventually get it. If it had been any other of his men, he could have them… “eliminated”, but no one who ever stood up to Alemas came out alive. This was getting very bad.

* Obviously this is false. Go buy a sense of humour if you really think I believe that giving women the vote is a catastrophe.