Twenty-Five - Alden

The three of us stared at the old man who seemed to be carrying buckets full of tools and scrolls. Save the world? I felt a sickening nausea roll over me like a sweeping wave. Just when I thought I was going to vomit, Tristram let out a rumbling laugh, causing him to bend over with his hands pressed against his knees.

After a minute or two, Tristram straightened up, wiped a tear from his eye, and said, "Good one, old man. Save the world."

The old man look at Tristram, his face in an unamused stare of seriousness. "Please, call me Rhythmus." He said, heading towards the door of his hut, sitting just to our right. "Old man... I could take you all with my pinky finger." He mumbled, shuffling inside.

We looked about at each other briefly before following Rhythmus inside. Sure, he was a complete stranger and just randomly told us to do the most burdensome thing, but I think we all felt a certain responsibility to see this guy through. Crazy or not, he was the first person we had come across that hadn't tried to kill us in a long time aside from each other.

"How old do you think he is?" I whispered to Tarka as she followed behind me.

She stared past me for a moment, probably to get a look at the man in the giant green cloak, which easily blended in with the color of the trees and bushes around the area. Shaking her head Tarka looked back at me, "I am not use to this kind of species... fifty?"

A chuckle emanated from the center of what appeared to be a decent sized hut made of wood. Rhythmus stood in the middle of a large circular room, placing his buckets upon a table that looked almost like an exact copy of the table my family ate meals on. I wonder if they're okay... if we are at war... if they miss me as much as they miss my brother.

"So, the young miss Tarka believes me to be of fifty years old?" Rhythmus said, giving a small smile to a wide eyed Tarka. "Oh, I know all about you three." He said, sitting down on a soft beige cushion. "Please, have a seat."

We glanced at each other once again.

"Hmmm..." Rhythmus mused. "It would appear you three all seem to rely on one another to do anything."

"That's not true." I huffed, plopping myself down on a cushion across the table from Rhythmus. "I can make my own decisions."

Rhythmus stroked his beard for a moment, eyes slitted and concentrated on me. "It is not a bad thing, young Alden. Having trust and respect to consider the feelings and instincts of those around you is a good practice, indeed."

"Yeah, sure." I said, crossing my arms and staring at the table.

The others sat down, Tarka to my left and Tristram to my right.

"So, how old are you then?" Asked Tristram, who still had a smirk pulling at the side of his mouth.

Rhythmus seemed to sigh. "Oh, I do not even know anymore. I last track around five."

"Five years old, really?" Scoffed Tristram.

"Five hundred, sir Tristram."

Tristram eyes fell away, looking a bit uncomfortable.

"So... what do you mean we have to save the world?" Tarka asked, in a quiet, hesitant voice.

Rhythmus rolled out one of his scrolls so that it faced us. On it was a giant image of Terraro, separated into the three Territories that each of us came from, and in the middle sat a small, squiggly square. Rhythmus pointed to the little square with a long, gnarled finger, "This is where we are. The center of Terraro." He said matter-of-factly, "As you all know, Palkins and Brackins have been long time friends, learning and surviving off of one another. But, over here, " said Rhythmus, dragging his finger to a spot in the Viridian territory not far from the square, "The Viridi people have simply kept to themselves, until Lesion got a taste of power." Rhythmus looked up, staring each one of us in the eyes before saying, "Lesion will bring this whole planet into chaos and destruction. He, alone, can destroy everything I've worked so hard to create."