The Three X Tales

**Character List:**
**1 - (slave**
name)Ashi/(Yu-mingian)Minashi/(Orc)Mintaki – The Idealist – E(N/S)FJ, Half-Orc/Human

·
**Basic Plot – Travels by small convoy**
of or by foot (political rebels) toward Fuchaon from the western mountains
early morning. Arrives nearby the PLANTATION where she grew up. While her party
rests, she sneaks out to return/confront her past, not abandoned and overgrown
with local vines in an old mansion from the 1830’s cultural era. She wanders
the property reminiscing about several events in her past via physical rememory
(prison, the house) (VERY PROUST/BELOVED KIND/ghosts of the pasts/actual
ghosts?) (how does this relate as events leading up to the assassination today).
The sun rises. She runs back home afraid of being caught and afraid of her
past, though her appearance suggests a bully-kind of hidden insecurity. She
wakes her friend as she tries to hide what she did as they share their own anxieties
about the upcoming day (really avoiding substance a la the Sound of Silence).
The friend offers her advice but doesn’t take it, really. She, as their lead
conspirator, speaks with her convoy later and it is revealed that they are
planning to assassinate the king as they make their preparations nonchalantly
and silently.

·
**Attributes – early 30’s, wrathful and**
angry (mostly at her past), Rorschach-esque, autocratic leftism/socialism, narrowminded,
angry, wrath, murderous, represents the value of fighting of what you believe
in for change, feminazi, disgusted by the masses, darker brown skin, tall for
half-orc, uses religion as a means for centering but it is neglected, Tuco,
really wants safety and comfort for all though as an ideal as something she
didn’t have, Malcolm X

o
**Morning Motif**

o
**Sleeplessness Motif**

o
**The name used by the narrator reflects**
the setting and the feelings shes has surrounding those identites (think Aidoo
and Malcolm X essay)

o
**Named after Mantuk by her father, the**
celebrated orc conquerer from 3300 years ago from her homeland (what are his
motifs?)

**Mother –**

·
**Whore in eyes of Mintaki, PLANTATION**
owner, human, woman in power – what happens differently?, hates mother
(revealed to murder in rage her when she ran away during the first rebellions)

**Father –**

·
**Orc Father, sold away in early child**
hood, forced to have sex with mother, blames father for her lack of father
figure and loneliness, lost in history, presumed dead, reavealed to have died
in the first rebellions

**Asts –**

·
**Friend, Female, Older (50’s), Pure**
Orc, from the West, represents the *wisdom of anger* (getting what you in life without being a detriment to that end) that Mintaki should aspire
to but fails to be,

**2 - Elix – The Apathetic**
Scientist – (I/E)NTP - Pomo

·
**Basic Plot – Elix wakes up late (noon)**
after being unable to sleep throughout the night. He seems to carry a guilty,
worried look and demeanor. He walks in his esteemed colleague’s and longtime
friend’s room, recently accredited for a discovery in their field and confronts
him on his influence in his own discovery as the reader discovers at the same
time something is up. He doesn’t deny his involvement. It is finally revealed
what he’s doing; working on a disease for genocide using his research. They
argue for hours on many different subjects, sometimes sitting in silence,
staring. “We must do something, you’re insane!” says Elix. Ends the story,
defeated by his ignorance somewhat, saying “life is a game,” hints at a desire
to kill the King, and he leaves his office as a direct segway into Tsie’s
story.

·
**Attributes – young (early 20’s),**
witty, somewhat dark and zany Dr. Manhattan-esque, like Camus (unlike Sarte)
against the USSR’s atrocities, libertarian left, the Stranger, Sisyphus, House
major influence too, has blond eyes, short as is pomo, dark latino skinned, has
a doggy,

o
**Noon Motif**

o
**Sleeplessness Motif**

**The Esteemed Colleague –**

·
The **Foil to Elix, represents the practical**
scientist, rejects philosophy and meaning in the universe, rejects idealism, complacent and safe
in their position (understandably, with a family that he deeply cares for),
Eichmann-esque, Niel De Grasse Tyson, typical science view of the
world, similar to “The Birthmark” dilemma (wants to make something perfect but
ruins doing so, but in a way that relates to a certain banality of
narrow-minded genius), is convinced to come with Elix to the capital

**3 - Tsie-Chvanak – The**
Ubermensch – (E/I)NTJ

·
**Basic Plot –  Dinner party scene and focus on what the**
aristocracy of ubermenschses talks about and perhaps how he differs (he takes
this ubermensch too seriously too far)

·
**Attributes – Hitler as in the recent,**
humorous German movie, sex-mongering, macbethian, murder justified as an art
(means for safety gone awry for personal desire to kill, a la Rope),
Nietzschiean, House of Cards, Ozymandias, Sun Tzu, calculating

o
**Sunset/Evening/’Awakening’ Motif**

o
**Bloody Motif**

o
**Ubermensch as a intrinisic part of**
Yu-Ming culture, we strive to be that, indicative of the
Water/Anarcho-Bourgeosie philosophy

§   **What are it’s flaws? Why is this good? How would this operate on a**
macroscale in society?

§   **Takes it too far and is punished for it**

**The Whore –**

·
**Represents**

**The Wife –**

·

**4 - The King – The Misunderstood**
Villain? – INFP?

·
**Basic Plot –**

·
**Attributes – A kind of Salvador**
Allende or Hirohito,

o
**Midnight motif**

**The Chancellor –**

·
**Hello Evil Hitler/Trump,**

**The Nobleman –**

## Draft

**Act I**

The sun
rose behind the gloomy clouds. The water glimmered on the leaves of grass
outside on the window. Sensations began down my cheek like raindrops. I thought
by stream, filling in the scenes that I couldn’t quite grasp, yet. The ceiling
licked my cheek again. Its saliva dove into the floorboards and arrested its
sole observer as it broke. I couldn’t help but watch. The tear drained through
the crack like sand through an hourglass.

I
looked up out the window again as it grew still. Despite the rain, I felt at
peace. The water slid off the vehicle as I watched, ceasing its dying dance
when I looked towards the horizon.

A
peppered leaf, just beyond the eye of the window in front of me, sat plastered
on the glass. It was alone. Crinkled, it faced the barrage without tremble and
lay forever more. The leaf blade shuddered and looked someplace else for
comfort. I wondered where that little thing had come from and where it would
go.

The blade
cut its sister just hours before.

I had
stumbled over the door step like I always used to. The roots had overgrown the
flooring inside as I sighed and peered inward. A small child ran past me. She
giggled as she gave her father a bundle of growth she had found past the far
corner of the hobbled shack behind the mossy rock.

“I
really like this one, sweetie” he said as he placed the others on the box
beside the creaky bed. He hugged his daughter tightly as she leapt into his
arms over her excitement.

“I
have never seen one of these myself in all of these years; but I believe that’s
the one…”

“Which
one, daddy?” as she scrambled over the floor to where he stood.

“Tell
me!” she begged.

He
glanced at her, and let out a smile. He stood there as he drew focus on his
daughter and the buds.

“*Mantuk’s Posy*, or ‘Hydrangea’ in the common’s
tongue; It’s a perfect shade of violet slate and… Did I ever tell you that you
were named after this bit of herb?”

She
shrugged and freed an almost incoherent squeal; “I-unnnooo!”

He
hesitated to answer as if he forgot what he should say.

“You’ll
have to wait until when I get back from the fields. We’ve got us a long day
ahead… I’ll wake your brother for you…”

Standing
center in the array of golden dust, my attention spotted into one of the
crooked, reddened drawers beside where father had gotten up. I began towards
the drawer and grasped the decorated *firsun*
handle that remained despite the decaying wood. I pulled hard and it budged
just wide enough for me to wade my hand into the abyss inside. I shuffled
around for a few moments. When a cool, reflective metal met my palm and I
twisted beneath my skin as I instantly knew it. I brought it out and rested it
on the drawer. It stared at me like an ancient relic.

It felt
good in a way. I looked at its handle. Wood... *Burnt aspri*... It was surprised to have been in such good shape
after all these winters. *The Halifachs*
Company *was branded underneath my hand as I inspected. Gilded with* andius steel*... I had always wondered*
how he got his hands on that...

“So that’s
how it…” I drifted off and wavered away from the drawer…

I left the
knife and noticed how heavy my eyes felt. Taking a seat at the table on the
wobbly wooden stool made by my father some years ago, I forced out a chuckle. I
closed my eyes and reflected on the day is was built. My father had used the
wrong screws (which I had given him, interestingly enough); they were three
eighth’s too short and I knew it. He sat on the chair to test his labor. But as
I suspected, his fat ass demolished the chair. I had snickered, but had
scampered off when his eyes glared back, suspecting my antics. Though, that was
probably around 27 years ago now…

Open and
close. My sight flickered for what seemed to be a few minutes, drifting between
those days and back now to the musty cabin. Yet, the blade gaped with a glinting,
steady eye…

I leaned
and ran my finger along the coiled, crisp, corroded edge. Wincing and flinching
back, the blade had cut me. The memories dripped out on to the table. Sharp and
fresh, he pushed hard into me.

He
stood there as I was sitting on the chair. "Oh, brother... what
happened?" His face was panicked.

His
clothes covered in sap and plant material, he moved back. His shoes were
missing and his hair was a mess. His ashen skin was panged with red. His eyes
were like a child’s full of mischief. He had his big dorky smile on and held
back a giddy laugh. In his hand he had a strange knife, though, not for the
fields it seemed.

"Sorry!
I guess I was in a hurry…” I knew he had done something pretty stupid with
those words and that look.

I
berated him even though I probably would have gotten in the same sort of
trouble. I always like taking and hiding father’s things in peculiar places, as
a prank, and brother seemed to be closer to my mother in that respect.

Turns out he stole it from one of mother’s callers. His
name was Edwick or Elwack or something and he hailed from some other farm on
the other side of town. She grew up over there, apparently, before she married
some rich shit mayor who lived here in this manor.

The wound surged,
the pained continued, recurrently, for hours, endlessly until it stopped,
finally. My eyes grew heavy and I let myself sleep…

(It lingered; emptiness.)

I
awoke and we were still driving down the same backwater road. The rain was
falling earlier but had ceased its roar. Our headlights severed the darkness in
its early hours from *Tsukong* along
the main highway north towards *Fuchaon*.
The darkness was endless. The only solace offered was from my friend, *Atsi*. She drowned out the rain with her
humming and still tried to continue. It was one of those tunes from the
homeland.

“Hm-da-mmm-mu-m-m-m-muhh...
dim.... duh?...” The light flickered back to emptiness.

I
could now see the worn, ragged rug on the wardrobe beside me. The light of the fiery
sun peered through the window. It reminded me of something … Oh so familiar…

My
mother. That fucking whore. She shrieked behind me.

“What
the fuck are you doing in here?”

Atsi resumed
her concerto. She looked over at me and her eyes widened. She asked me how I
was doing. She told me not to dwell on the past and gave me some pedantic lecture
on why not to. Something about using anger to benefit something you love. Well?
What’s the point of that? Fire is destructive. Anger is fire. And the bad in
life is just that: bad. Negative. There’s nothing more to it. It’s a release of
emotion and of stress that is gonna mess up the people you love when you do. Madness
is a fault, not a tool. It never could be anything else.

*Atsi* distanced her dialogue from the subject, seeing as
something was still too fresh in my memory.

My
attention fluttered back towards the passing trees as I returned a few sparing words
with each refrain. They looked rather crass. Their forms shook into the air and
their leaves were irregular; they were saplings, yes, but everyone knew they
grow into something more tasteful in a few years’ time. It was easy to see
that, over the next few minutes, these grew into a wonderful abundance of color
stretched over the road ahead. We were getting close, but I was so drowsy and
my focus gradually drifted from the road.

A
scream echoed across the field. I staggered towards the source. The house
shouted again, but this time in a familiar voice. I sprinted through the brush
and entered the home – there was shit everywhere. Nobody here. I danced past
the smashed objects on the floor to the stairs and stopped. Blood. My brother
roared, but muffled, through the walls. Shouts pierced my ears. I wavered
towards the door to my mother’s room and saw her dead on the floor, eyes frozen
in time, and melted on the floor.

She
was joined by my brother on floor. He looked up and smiled. He was a broken
toy. His eyes harrowed and his hair a flurry. Mother’s head was held against
his chest. A blade lay on her thigh, dripping with hunger.

“She
was too much… I loved her and she was too much.”

(Ha.)

I cried
for a little sitting on the post of the bed.

I asked
*Atsi* what Mintaki really stood for
and why my father named me this and conveyed to her my earlier dream.

“The *Mintak* naming right honors the great
conqueror, *Mantuk*, from the
homelands. He was the great liberator from other peoples and destinies and restored
the right of the true *Orc* to *Orc* peoples. His legacy and empire
lasted for hundreds of years… His heart was fire and his stance was earth. Your
father must have thought you very special; *Mantuk*
is a sacred name. The flower he refers to, *Mantuk’s*
Posy*, means heart – both the powerful emotions of love and passion and the*
frigidity of one broken and abused by others.”

The
light of a midday sun pierced my vision. As we rose over the crest of the peak,
the sprawling, splintered city of *Fuchaon*
jutted over the bay ahead. We had finally arrived.

**Act II**

“It’s already
afternoon!” Anybody who happened to be listening would have laughed. I cackled
to myself instead. It was strange.

I should have been
working, but I found myself staring at things that were seemingly out of place
in the mirror. I thought it looked kinda funny. It had a funny look to it, for
sure. My hair and brow wavy like the clouds behind them out the window. It
reminded me of one of those billboards with the rustic hotels on some far away
northern island. The men standing in the frame were *Pomo* and had a look like mine. “Just funny, I guess” I said aloud.

“What’s so funny, *Elix*?” quipped *Zola* as he entered the room.

My train of thought
interrupted, I stuttered as I let out some smitten explanation to my friend.

“Oh, what? I just
wanted to drop off these papers for you; I thought you might to look at them
before I submit them to *Tez*!” he
requested eagerly.

“Oh… Oh, sure… let
me see those.”

He looked them over
briefly and handed them back to *Zola*.
“Oh yes, these are ready to go; let me know when you do.”

*Zola* thanked
him and went on to the neighboring office to ask them the same thing, as I
overheard that neighbor’s annoyance through my own voice.

I really wondered
why things have to be this way. It was a huge conundrum. Certainly, a scientist
has no reason to care about the affairs of a foreign state, much less the
affairs of a foreign people who mean nothing to him. I fear for the safety of
my family, though. I love my daughters so much – my world might just fall into
nothing if something were to happen to them… Who knows? I had best left this
place as soon as possible.

A few things needed
to be done before I left, of course. Gathering my papers and things, putting my
plaques into the bad, I remembered I wanted to talk to *Zola* before I booked it out of town, unfortunately.

**Act III**

As he came out, *Tsie-Chvanak* noticed the sun had set and
a cool air had entered his throat.

“Ah” he rasped.

**Act IV**

**Act V**

Story of the

A king ruled fair
upon a chair

Though others did
not care

His advisors and
ministers carried out every order

Only those orders
that came from them