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Old Man Norman 1: The Man on the Hill CANCELLED

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Old Man Norman 1: The Man on the Hill
__________________________________________
>It's the year 1750.
>Streets filled with smoke and vice.
>Scoundrels searching for victims or food, scourging the very place they call home.
>You sit outside the gates by the hills, observing.
>Poverty has consumed the lands, the promise of a brighter future sits idly by the garbage can.
>Once a day, one person dies from starvation.
>If not from that, they are killed by the guards of the tyrant Queen.
>You walk by the pond, looking at your own reflection.
>Covered in a blanket, wearing only a pear of pants and the beanie you've loved dearly ever since you were a child.
>Memories pierce your mind. Nostalgia comes through like a melody from a bard.
>But you can't remember anything.
>You try your hardest, but nothing from your past comes back to your mind.
>What happened to you, Norman?
>Is this how you want to die? A homeless man, wandering the world without friends, family, or an identity?
>It's not like you tried to make friends.
>But time has caught up to you.
>You look upon the walls of the city.
>Beyond it, filth worse than the feces you release.
>It is a city forgotten by the Queen.
>It is a shell of it's former self.
>You re-enter the city. The guards don't even give a damn anymore.
>It reeks of vermin and crooks.
>You walk through without a care in the world.
>You have nothing to fear, for you have nothing to lose.
>You look to your left. Abandoned marketplace, now used as a butcher's deli.
>The pork, rotten to the flesh.
>Worms crawling out of it, but the butcher doesn't mind. No, he just wants to sell and live on.
>To the right, you see a whorehouse.
>The putrid odor of women overusing fragrances scatters in the wind.
>Moans of women can be heard from outside. Their lives completely consumed by lust and gold.
>Alas, you stop. Standing in front of you.
>A wrecked home, sacked to the core.
>Bricks already giving up. The roof, destroyed by time.
>IT was your home. The place you were raised.
>You enter the house. Empty by far.
>You remember living here, but you can't remember anything else.
>Just the fact that you come here every now and then.
>You hold the walls of the house, hoping you would remember something.
>Anything at all.
>...
>Nothing. Not even the faces of the people you once called mother and father.
>They taught you, raised you, loved you.
>You don't even know where they are, or where they're buried.
>But you remember the house, and with that, you kneel.
>You pay your respects. This home sheltered you from disasters. Sheltered your family.
>But it has been defiled after being abandoned for so long.
*creak*
>You notice a noise coming from upstairs.
>Standing up, you spoke.
"H-Hello?"
>...
>Nothing. Was it just a rat? A child, looking for shelter?
>You walked up the broken stair-case to find out.
>As you creeped up, a child peeks through the walls. The child runs away in fear.
>It's only natural, but you try confirm if it is just a child.
>Maybe it's one of your hallucinations again.
>Maybe.
>Climbing up the stairs, you see two doors.
>One of them was slightly open.
>You peeked in the room. The light from the broken ceiling lit the room.
>A man, flesh and bones, furiously humping a dead, rotting corpse.
>You peeked out due to shock.
"What has this world come to?"
>You turn behind you.
>Another door. What's behind this?
>You carefully opened the remaining door.
>You breathed a sigh of relief. Nothing was inside.
>...
>It's not completely empty. A picture was lying on the ground.
>Dusty, you blew off the dirt when you picked it up.
>You held in your hands a tattered portrait. A family portrait.
>Black and white. Your parents upper parts torn off. Only the portrait of yourself when you were young remains.
>A tear falls from your eye. Why can't you remember anything?
*creak*
>A footstep from behind.
>Sounds like the guy raping the corpse wants another body. Shit.
>You look behind you, looking for a looney.
>But it wasn't the horny man who was creeping up behind you.
>It's a small kid, armed with a branch.
"W-whoa, kid!"
>The kid hits you in the head. You stumble due to your old age.
>Blood pours from your nose. A slight itch from where she hit you on the forehead.
>Three other kids burst in the room armed with sticks. One of them holding an iron bar. They looked girlish.
"A..ahhh!"
>"Get em!"
>They grabbed their weapons and beats you mercilessly.
>Hitting your back, your head, your crotch.
>Their smiles and laughter haunt you as they torture your poor body.
>"HAHAHAHAHAHA, HIHIHIHEHEHEHEH" They laughed.
>"Tiara, hit him in the face!" they said
>You cry to the point of submission. You're just an old man. You can't take any more hits.
>But, amidts the scratches and bruises. You looked around for 3 seconds.
>The child, who hit you on the head. Stands by with pity on his face.
>"Come on, Babs! Join in on the fun." One of them tells him.
>The kid tries to raise his branch.
"Please.N-no" you tell him
>He turns away.
>The children continues to beat you up with their weapons.
>"SEARCH HIS POCKETS. HE MIGHT HAVE COIN!" One of the kids say.
>They strip away your blanket and your pants.
>They never bothered with the beanie. It already has enough holes in it to see if you were hiding something.
>The look on their eyes filled with disappointment. They found nothing but a peanut and a pebble.
>>"Aww, this lugnut's got nothing!"
>"Pssh, we still have some use for him."
>One of the kids grabs the large branch from the other kid.
>"Nighty night!" she said as he whacked my head.
>After that, darkness followed.
>I've always wondered how I'll die. Starvation? Attempting to speak with the queen? Stroke?
>It doesn't matter. You've died getting mugged by children.
>Well, at least I died with what little dignity I have left.
>...
>I feel a breeze through my legs.
>Raindrops falling on my nose.
>Rope tied to my wrists behind me.
>Dammit I'm not dead!
>It is raining.
>You hang by a rope tied to your arms and wrists outside your old home, naked.
>People looked at your bruised and bloodied body, hanging from a ledge. They laughed at you, mocked you.
>And the kids who tied you up took it as a chance to rob the audience that mocks you while they're distracted.
>You look around. Whores, thieves, even the guards.
>You felt something hanging from your neck. A signboard.
>Trying to read it upside-down.
>'Shit head of the year award' it read.
>You fight the urge to cry as they continue to laugh on.
>You look around the audience, because that's the only thing you can do.
>The kid who pitied you, nervously pick pocketing.
>He looks at you for a moment. You look back at him.
>A young kid, orange skin, wearing a beret. His clothing filled with winter gear.
>He's scared, terrified at what you look like.
>Does he feel guilty? Disgust?
>He wasn't like the others. He took no pride, nor joy with what she's doing, or what she'd done.
>She looked away.
*craaack~*
>You look up. The ledge holding the rope can support you no more.
>Raindrops weakening the already collapsing ledge.
*BRACK*
>The ledge breaks. You fall to the ground by 10 feet.
>The fall nearly breaks your legs., but you're forced to kneel thanks to the bruises on your knees.
>Debris falls behind you. You're dirty, naked and hurt.
>One of the citizens took a gander, laughed and kicked you at the right of your face.
>Your upper body falls to the ground. The rope by your wrists untie themselves.
>Fighting the pain, you stood up, limping from one wall to another.
>Covering your member with your beanie. You try to run away.
>>>>"Haha, where you goin in a hurry?" said the guard.
>The guard trips you down, but you got right back up.
>After what seemed like an eternity, you got to the city entrance.
>You crawled back up the hill in vain against the rain and the pain.
>Thunder cracks and lightning strikes.
>You crawl to the tree on the hill.
>The only place that you can call home at present.
>The place where you used to play as a child.
>It is the only thing you have left.
>But you can't seem to shake the feeling that you're still alive for another reason.
>
>You sat by the tree, tending to your wounds.
>A crow comes in and mistakes you for a corpse.
>You shoo him away.
>You look up the raining clouds. It was the only thing worth looking at.
>You look back to your wounds. You dab your thumb filled with rainwater to your open wounds.
>It hurts, but it reminds you that you are alive.
>You look at your left to see another sight. A kingdom far away.
>Guarded by thousands of men, carrying bayonets as they march around.
>The hill you're sitting on was high enough to witness the marvel, and corruption.
>Peasants who try to get in for shelter and food were shunned. Those who persisted were killed on sight.
>On more pleasant days, they get lucky and get jailed. Free food and shelter, that's what they say.
>But not this poor fool. No, he pissed that guard off, and the guard stabbed him with his bayonet.
>You look away from the bloody horror far away. You looked at the buildings of the castle.
>And finally, something has caught your eye. A woman of familiar beauty, walked to her balcony to witness her lands.
>She was one of the few things you remember.
The Queen.
>You knew the Queen back when she was still a young woman.
>She had a beautiful smile. She always yearned to learn new things. She was your mentor.
>She was close to you as you were to her friends.
"Purple..." you mumbled to yourself.
>You always thought she would make a wise ruler. A woman who has thought of her subjects as her own sons and daughters.
>She was kind, gentle, if not a little jumpy.
"What happened to you, Twilight Sparkle?"
>And with that, you felt sleepy, and laid on your back as the tree's leaves prevent raindrops from falling to your face.
>Finally, you closed your eyes, and slept.
____HOURS__LATER____
>You awoke to the night's bright sky.
>Stars glowing with the moonlight.
>The rain has stopped, and clouds were nowhere to be found.
>Your bruises have started to take a toll on your muscles. It always hurts when you wake up.
>sigh.
>You stood up, realizing you don't have your clothes anymore.
>You need to find some new ones.
>Limping down the hill, you searched left and right, trying to find some robes or clothes on the ground.
>You sneak by the city gates again, this time, blending in with all the other beggars.
>Torches lit the city. Just enough to see the degenerates in the pale moonlight.
>Gangs and young criminals took no notice, nor care to you.
>They assume you're just a worthless old man, waiting to die.
>You held your beanie tight to your head, and went to the city's dump to find some clothes.
"Alright, found my pants."
>As you dug through the trash, you noticed a familiar branch.
>You grabbed it and checked it thoroughly.
>Blood smeared on one side.
>It's definitely the same branch that knocked you out.
>You used it as a walking stick while the legs of your bones weaken from the bruises.
>Minutes later, you were out of luck.
>No food, no blanket, no shirt.
>Shit.
>You walk out, disappointed, when you see a little kid getting harassed by adults, looking 20-ish.
>"HEY, LET ME GO!"
>>"Calm down, kid, we're just checking to see if you have some extra coin in your pocket." they say deviously.
>They touch him everywhere, laughing and squirming their hands in his pockets.
>You would have ignored it, but the kid looks familiar.
>Beret, winter clothes, orange.
>...
>It's the girl who whacked you in the head.
>But what does that matter? She did you wrong, leave her alone!
>Moral voices in your head mess with your mind.
>You can't leave a kid to the hands of strangers. You won't be able to sleep at this point.
>Besides, what makes you so different than the filth of this place if you don't even do what's right?
>The older gang tears off the kid's sleeve. He kicks them in the groin and tries to escape.
>THe kid trips, and one of the three bastards pull him back.
>>"Alright kid, groin for groin. Pull her down!" one of the men say while he unzips himself.
"HEY." you yell.
>They took notice. The kid is shocked.
"LEAVE THE KID ALONE." You said with all your strength.
>>"Ignore him, he ain't doing bolts and nuts to us."
>You lift the branch high up and whacked the guy who got his zipper off.
>>"AHHK!"
>>>"HEY, WHAT THE HELL?"
>The kid reacts. He stands up.
>The remaining two guys charge at you.
>You held fast to your branch and swung it across one guy.
>You hit him, but it only managed to bruise his forehead.
>The other man tackles you to the ground. You drop the branch.
>>>"YOU MESSING WITH US?" he yelled at you.
>He starts punching you in the face.
>The child takes the branch and smashes it into your attacker's right face.
>Splinters scatter across his head as he falls to the ground unconscious.
>You immediately got up, despite your frail legs.
>Adrenaline flows through your veins.
>You grab the branch and readied yourself again for the last attacker.
>He charges at you. He learned nothing from the last one.
>You crouched and pointed the branch at his stomach.
>>>>"OOFF!" he yelled as the branch hits his lower body.
>The kid kicks his knee as your raised the branch up high.
>Finally, you deliver the finishing blow, bludgeoning the poor criminal on the head.
>The branch broke from the impact.
>Three bodies lay unconscious.
>You look at the kid.
>Kid looks at you.
>You kneel down to give the child one final advice before you leave.
"Run."
End of Chapter 1

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Old Man Norman 1: The Man on the Hill

__________________________________________

>It's the year 1750. 

>Streets filled with smoke and vice.
>Scoundrels searching for victims or food, scourging the very place they call home.
>You sit outside the gates by the hills, observing.
>Poverty has consumed the lands, the promise of a brighter future sits idly by the garbage can.
>Once a day, one person dies from starvation.
>If not from that, they are killed by the guards of the tyrant Queen.
>You walk by the pond, looking at your own reflection.
>Covered in a blanket, wearing only a pear of pants and the beanie you've loved dearly ever since you were a child.
>Memories pierce your mind. Nostalgia comes through like a melody from a bard.

>But you can't remember anything. 
>You try your hardest, but nothing from your past comes back to your mind.
>What happened to you, Norman?
>Is this how you want to die? A homeless man, wandering the world without friends, family, or an identity?
>It's not like you tried to make friends.
>But time has caught up to you.

>You look upon the walls of the city.
>Beyond it, filth worse than the feces you release.
>It is a city forgotten by the Queen.
>It is a shell of it's former self.

>You re-enter the city. The guards don't even give a damn anymore.
>It reeks of vermin and crooks.
>You walk through without a care in the world.
>You have nothing to fear, for you have nothing to lose. 
>You look to your left. Abandoned marketplace, now used as a butcher's deli.
>The pork, rotten to the flesh.
>Worms crawling out of it, but the butcher doesn't mind. No, he just wants to sell and live on.
>To the right, you see a whorehouse.
>The putrid odor of women overusing fragrances scatters in the wind.
>Moans of women can be heard from outside. Their lives completely consumed by lust and gold.

>Alas, you stop. Standing in front of you. 
>A wrecked home, sacked to the core.
>Bricks already giving up. The roof, destroyed by time.
>IT was your home. The place you were raised. 
>You enter the house. Empty by far.
>You remember living here, but you can't remember anything else.
>Just the fact that you come here every now and then.
>You hold the walls of the house, hoping you would remember something.
>Anything at all.
>...
>Nothing. Not even the faces of the people you once called mother and father.
>They taught you, raised you, loved you.
>You don't even know where they are, or where they're buried.
>But you remember the house, and with that, you kneel.
>You pay your respects. This home sheltered you from disasters. Sheltered your family.
>But it has been defiled after being abandoned for so long.

*creak*

>You notice a noise coming from upstairs.
>Standing up, you spoke.
"H-Hello?"
>...
>Nothing. Was it just a rat? A child, looking for shelter?
>You walked up the broken stair-case to find out.
>As you creeped up, a child peeks through the walls. The child runs away in fear.
>It's only natural, but you try confirm if it is just a child.
>Maybe it's one of your hallucinations again.
>Maybe.
>Climbing up the stairs, you see two doors.
>One of them was slightly open.
>You peeked in the room. The light from the broken ceiling lit the room.
>A man, flesh and bones, furiously humping a dead, rotting corpse.
>You peeked out due to shock. 
"What has this world come to?"
>You turn behind you.
>Another door. What's behind this?
>You carefully opened the remaining door.
>You breathed a sigh of relief. Nothing was inside.
>...
>It's not completely empty. A picture was lying on the ground.
>Dusty, you blew off the dirt when you picked it up.
>You held in your hands a tattered portrait. A family portrait.
>Black and white. Your parents upper parts torn off. Only the portrait of yourself when you were young remains.
>A tear falls from your eye. Why can't you remember anything?

*creak*
>A footstep from behind.
>Sounds like the guy raping the corpse wants another body. Shit.
>You look behind you, looking for a looney.
>But it wasn't the horny man who was creeping up behind you.
>It's a small kid, armed with a branch.

"W-whoa, kid!"
>The kid hits you in the head. You stumble due to your old age.
>Blood pours from your nose. A slight itch from where she hit you on the forehead.
>Three other kids burst in the room armed with sticks. One of them holding an iron bar. They looked girlish.
"A..ahhh!"
>"Get em!"
>They grabbed their weapons and beats you mercilessly.
>Hitting your back, your head, your crotch.
>Their smiles and laughter haunt you as they torture your poor body.
>"HAHAHAHAHAHA, HIHIHIHEHEHEHEH" They laughed.
>"Tiara, hit him in the face!" they said
>You cry to the point of submission. You're just an old man. You can't take any more hits.
>But, amidts the scratches and bruises. You looked around for 3 seconds.
>The child, who hit you on the head. Stands by with pity on his face.
>"Come on, Babs! Join in on the fun." One of them tells him.
>The kid tries to raise his branch.

"Please.N-no" you tell him
>He turns away. 
>The children continues to beat you up with their weapons.
>"SEARCH HIS POCKETS. HE MIGHT HAVE COIN!" One of the kids say.
>They strip away your blanket and your pants.
>They never bothered with the beanie. It already has enough holes in it to see if you were hiding something.
>The look on their eyes filled with disappointment. They found nothing but a peanut and a pebble.
>>"Aww, this lugnut's got nothing!"
>"Pssh, we still have some use for him."
>One of the kids grabs the large branch from the other kid.
>"Nighty night!" she said as he whacked my head.
>After that, darkness followed.

>I've always wondered how I'll die. Starvation? Attempting to speak with the queen? Stroke?
>It doesn't matter. You've died getting mugged by children.
>Well, at least I died with what little dignity I have left.
>...
>I feel a breeze through my legs.
>Raindrops falling on my nose.
>Rope tied to my wrists behind me.
>Dammit I'm not dead!

>It is raining.
>You hang by a rope tied to your arms and wrists outside your old home, naked.
>People looked at your bruised and bloodied body, hanging from a ledge. They laughed at you, mocked you.
>And the kids who tied you up took it as a chance to rob the audience that mocks you while they're distracted.
>You look around. Whores, thieves, even the guards.
>You felt something hanging from your neck. A signboard.
>Trying to read it upside-down.
>'Shit head of the year award' it read.
>You fight the urge to cry as they continue to laugh on.
>You look around the audience, because that's the only thing you can do.
>The kid who pitied you, nervously pick pocketing.
>He looks at you for a moment. You look back at him.
>A young kid, orange skin, wearing a beret. His clothing filled with winter gear.
>He's scared, terrified at what you look like.
>Does he feel guilty? Disgust?
>He wasn't like the others. He took no pride, nor joy with what she's doing, or what she'd done. 
>She looked away.

*craaack~*

>You look up. The ledge holding the rope can support you no more.
>Raindrops weakening the already collapsing ledge.

*BRACK*

>The ledge breaks. You fall to the ground by 10 feet.
>The fall nearly breaks your legs., but you're forced to kneel thanks to the bruises on your knees.
>Debris falls behind you. You're dirty, naked and hurt.
>One of the citizens took a gander, laughed and kicked you at the right of your face.
>Your upper body falls to the ground. The rope by your wrists untie themselves.
>Fighting the pain, you stood up, limping from one wall to another.
>Covering your member with your beanie. You try to run away.
>>>>"Haha, where you goin in a hurry?" said the guard.
>The guard trips you down, but you got right back up.
>After what seemed like an eternity, you got to the city entrance.
>You crawled back up the hill in vain against the rain and the pain.

>Thunder cracks and lightning strikes.
>You crawl to the tree on the hill.
>The only place that you can call home at present.
>The place where you used to play as a child.
>It is the only thing you have left.
>But you can't seem to shake the feeling that you're still alive for another reason.
>
>You sat by the tree, tending to your wounds.
>A crow comes in and mistakes you for a corpse.
>You shoo him away.

>You look up the raining clouds. It was the only thing worth looking at.
>You look back to your wounds. You dab your thumb filled with rainwater to your open wounds.
>It hurts, but it reminds you that you are alive.
>You look at your left to see another sight. A kingdom far away.
>Guarded by thousands of men, carrying bayonets as they march around.
>The hill you're sitting on was high enough to witness the marvel, and corruption.
>Peasants who try to get in for shelter and food were shunned. Those who persisted were killed on sight. 
>On more pleasant days, they get lucky and get jailed. Free food and shelter, that's what they say.
>But not this poor fool. No, he pissed that guard off, and the guard stabbed him with his bayonet.
>You look away from the bloody horror far away. You looked at the buildings of the castle.
>And finally, something has caught your eye. A woman of familiar beauty, walked to her balcony to witness her lands.
>She was one of the few things you remember. 
The Queen.

>You knew  the Queen back when she was still a young woman.
>She had a beautiful smile. She always yearned to learn new things. She was your mentor.
>She was close to you as you were to her friends. 

"Purple..." you mumbled to yourself.

>You always thought she would make a wise ruler. A woman who has thought of her subjects as her own sons and daughters.
>She was kind, gentle, if not a little jumpy.

"What happened to you, Twilight Sparkle?"

>And with that, you felt sleepy, and laid on your back as the tree's leaves prevent raindrops from falling to your face.
>Finally, you closed your eyes, and slept.

____HOURS__LATER____

>You awoke to the night's bright sky.
>Stars glowing with the moonlight.
>The rain has stopped, and clouds were nowhere to be found.
>Your bruises have started to take a toll on your muscles. It always hurts when you wake up.
>sigh.
>You stood up, realizing you don't have your clothes anymore.
>You need to find some new ones.
>Limping down the hill,  you searched left and right, trying to find some robes or clothes on the ground.
>You sneak by the city gates again, this time, blending in with all the other beggars.
>Torches lit the city. Just enough to see the degenerates in the pale moonlight.
>Gangs and young criminals took no notice, nor care to you. 
>They assume you're just a worthless old man, waiting to die.
>You held your beanie tight to your head, and went to the city's dump to find some clothes.
"Alright, found my pants."
>As you dug through the trash, you noticed a familiar branch.
>You grabbed it and checked it thoroughly.
>Blood smeared on one side.
>It's definitely the same branch that knocked you out.
>You used it as a walking stick while the legs of your bones weaken from the bruises.

>Minutes later, you were out of luck.
>No food, no blanket, no shirt.
>Shit.
>You walk out, disappointed, when you see a little kid getting harassed by adults, looking 20-ish.
>"HEY, LET ME GO!"
>>"Calm down, kid, we're just checking to see if you have some extra coin in your pocket." they say deviously.
>They touch him everywhere, laughing and squirming their hands in his pockets.
>You would have ignored it, but the kid looks familiar.
>Beret, winter clothes, orange.
>...
>It's the girl who whacked you in the head.
>But what does that matter? She did you wrong, leave her alone!
>Moral voices in your head mess with your mind.
>You can't leave a kid to the hands of strangers. You won't be able to sleep at this point.
>Besides, what makes you so different than the filth of this place if you don't even do what's right?

>The older gang tears off the kid's sleeve. He kicks them in the groin and tries to escape.
>THe kid trips, and one of the three bastards pull him back.
>>"Alright kid, groin for groin. Pull her down!" one of the men say while he unzips himself.

"HEY." you yell.
>They took notice. The kid is shocked.
"LEAVE THE KID ALONE." You said with all your strength.
>>"Ignore him, he ain't doing bolts and nuts to us."
>You lift the branch high up and whacked the guy who got his zipper off.
>>"AHHK!"
>>>"HEY, WHAT THE HELL?"
>The kid reacts. He stands up.
>The remaining two guys charge at you.
>You held fast to your branch and swung it across one guy.
>You hit him, but it only managed to bruise his forehead.
>The other man tackles you to the ground. You drop the branch.
>>>"YOU MESSING WITH US?" he yelled at you.
>He starts punching you in the face.
>The child takes the branch and smashes it into your attacker's right face.
>Splinters scatter across his head as he falls to the ground unconscious.
>You immediately got up, despite your frail legs.
>Adrenaline flows through your veins.
>You grab the branch and readied yourself again for the last attacker.
>He charges at you. He learned nothing from the last one.
>You crouched  and pointed the branch at his stomach.
>>>>"OOFF!" he yelled as the branch hits his lower body.
>The kid kicks his knee as your raised the branch up high.
>Finally, you deliver the finishing blow, bludgeoning the poor criminal on the head. 
>The branch broke from the impact. 
>Three bodies lay unconscious.
>You look at the kid. 
>Kid looks at you.
>You kneel down to give the child one final advice before you leave.

"Run."

End of Chapter 1

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Old Man Norman 1: The Man on the Hill **CANCELLED**

Old Man Norman 1: The Man on the Hill CANCELLED