DEADWOOD (ANATHEMA)

The past seems like a dream now. One you don't want to wake up from - one that you're on the cusp of forgetting and remembering, so clear yet fading by the second. You're reaching for it. You don't want to forget. But it is too late.

He cannot fathom how much has changed since he was a child. Cannot, or will not, for the shame he feels eats him whole. What would his mother think if she knew what really happened that night? They'd buried him, but he was not dead. Not yet. But... The man they buried wasn't him... Not anymore - This was not who he used to be. Some would call him a monster, and they're half right. Others would call him the victim of one, half right again. It's a tragic mix of both, in reality. An event - nothing more. A simple moment in his life that changed its course forever.

Let us start at the beginning, though.

-Things were simple, once upon a time; A simple life, simple parents... A regular, humble upbringing most would wish for, if they had a choice. He was raised on a farm as Isaac Boone, and as soon as he was old enough to handle his own, he worked there himself just as his father had when he was a boy. A homebody, he was, and a simple life is all he yearned for in life - Even as a young boy, Isaac wouldn't complain, he never complained, (his back would ache and his head would pound, his hands always covered in the day's dirt...) but there was always a bed to rest the back, food and mother's herbs to ease the pounding head, and fresh water to wash those stained hands... How could he complain? There were others out there who didn't have a bed, didn't have parents who loved them - didn't have parents at all. No, he would not complain. He was happy where he was.

-'Was happy' can't be stressed enough. It's too easy to let a child grow up with no hardships, isn't it? That's what the band of outlaws who burned his farm to the ground thought, anyway. It was the dead of night when he awoke - the sky was angry, furious, even, and the smoke had already grown thick and heavy. Terrified eyes met a man who stood among the embers outside. Beside him, a boy, perhaps not much older than he. Around them were various other strangers, torches in hand and grins plastered on their shadowed faces as they rounded up livestock. He realised then his parents were pleading with them, the two he'd locked eyes with. The pit in his stomach consumed him.

-D soon found out that his life was spared. It hadn't occurred to him how... Calm he'd been in the face of hellish embers and the men who spat fire, but all he could do was watch wide-eyed as his home crumbled around him. His life was not spared, not really. His father had given up all gold and any valuables in exchange for his and his mother's freedom. It seemed the ringleader made a habit of taking those still growing to turn into the perfect little dogs... A man, controlling loyal dogs who had learned to love the mutt who thought he was a master. He was satisfied with gold, this day.
He didn't scream, or cry, or chase after the gang as they left with their livelihood. He stood, staring out his window with fire in his innocent eyes. His life was not spared. His death sentence was signed as they were left alone- nowhere to go, stood amongst smoke and rubble, memories turned to dust and ash.

-Who could believe that, once, that place was nothing but happy memories? Built on golden sunsets, smiles, and love. Now, a heap on the floor, still smoking from the men who burned it down - the men who taught him that there was no such thing as a simple life.

-Deadwood couldn't stomach the smile his mother forced the next few days; It didn't hide the red eyes, the tired, dark bags, nor the look of defeat plastered over her weary face. He didn't blame her, though - She was doing what she thought best for her son. His father, like he, failed to speak much after the events prior. Ashamed, maybe, that he chose to bleed their family dry, without understanding that he saved their lives while doing just so; Without realising that it was those shadows on horseback wielding fire and destruction that caused the downfall of their family, in the end, and he did what any father would to protect his family.

BITTEN

-Spend their life working odd jobs between towns - Deadwood grows up jaded and and aloof, afraid to set down roots. Joins with a gang that liked to cause trouble as a way to feel some sort of excitement. Becomes comfortable with a firearm, and with lawlesness. He's on his way home from a late night taven shift when he's bitten by something. Agony, instantly, a black-out pain which left him unresponsive on the woodland floor until the next morning. He returns weak, shivering and sickly, mumbling about the monster in the woods. His parents are understandably stunned, and do their best to take care of him for the few weeks he suffers.

-Succumbs to his 'illness' and is buried beneathe an oak tree. He awakes after a few days, and bursts from the ground reborn. Reborn, and ravenous. He's plagued by a voice he does not recognise, but soon realises it's the creature (man) who had done this to him. Deadwood seen his face in his feavered dreams - his creator whispered abhorrent things, instructions straight from the fires of hell, but could hardly be ignored.

-Unable to block out the whispers or the hunger, Deadwood had stalked his own prey and gave in to the monster. Once the beast is satiated, he is distraught, and returns to fumble through the midnight forest aimlessly, until he spots the lights of Yasumi's Fox and Moon inn.

-Eventually strikes up a partnership with her - she'll ensure he is fed, and he will put his newfound powers to good use by helping to protect the inn. Remains there, and finds himself growing comfortable in Yasumi's company. Keeps himself distanced from other guests, but appreciates the satety and understanding offered by Yasumi.

-Troubled still by the voice, even after 70 years - avoids sleep, and can comfortably function without it when well fed. Used to Yasumi's antics, and knows he has a home forever, for better or worse.
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