Post by Max Pavenic on Jun 21, 2010 19:38:06 GMT
You have been approved.
-JT
Account E-Mail: max (that's the account name)
Name: Max Pavenic
Nationality: Romanian
Character History:
The dark forests and ancient mountains of Romania had always been alive with stories and legends, whispered in quiet tones around camp fires and inside the weather-worn houses of the small, remote villages. No tale was too wild or curious for the locals and certainly, it was the lure of these mysteries that compelled the young, blonde German man by the name of Jakob Krieger to travel to Romania. Like many young people of his days, he too had followed in his father's footsteps and adopted his profession as his own - a smith by trade, he had still always maintained an avid interest in folklore and would have certainly pursued related studies had it been possible. He had to settle for reading books and although he made good friends with a local scholar possessing ample knowledge on the subject, it seemed as if the young man's true inspirations would never be fulfilled.
After Jakob's father died, the 24-year old German did not hesitate when his scholar friend proposed that the young man should undertake a journey to Romania on his behalf and collect some of the local lore for his book. Wanting to break free of the shackles of the expectations that had been laid on him, Jakob soon found himself in the middle of Romania, in the city of Brasov, quite unsure of what he should do. He had no real formal training for the task and had undertaken it only out of youthful innocence. He had basic knowledge of the Romanian language and struggled with even some of simplest communications with the locals at first, but since he wasn't the only German around, he learned the local ways and improved his grasp of the language in the process. His task of collecting the stories had a slow and difficult start, but he was soon directed to visit the nearby town of Râsnov for some true Romanian folklore from the local elders. Preparing himself for a stay of two weeks at most, Jakob soon set out with his papers and notebooks, hitching a ride on a horse wagon and feeling elated over the freshly discovered information. The people of the small town regarded the young German with some amount of suspicion, but they offered the man quarters for the duration of his stay and Jakob concentrated on his work of prying about the legends from the elders.
Jakob did manage to uncover some legends, indeed, but he also came upon something he had not really been searching for. One morning his eyes fell upon a young dark-haired female, one who seemed to slip past the villagers like a ghost, as if the people chose to ignore her on purpose. Their eyes met only briefly, but Jakob felt as if the time had frozen when the curious female's sparkling emerald eyes met his and of course, it was impossible for him to forget the pale-skinned woman after this. He inquired about her from the villagers and learned that the woman was called Magda and that she lived some ways away from the town on her own. They also told Jakob that she was, evidently, bad news and best avoided. By now the mysterious female felt so compelling to Jakob that the warnings only enticed him further and soon he found himself climbing up the narrow, forested path that supposedly lead to Magda's house. He was already losing hope, doubting if anyone could actually live alone in the middle of such wilderness, but much to his surprise he came upon the small wooden cabin nestled in the midst of the tall trees. Knocking on the door, he was only met with silence, but as he finally turned around to leave the cabin, the door creaked open and the same green eyes regarded him with suspicion.
The start of their relationship could have been described as being stormy, for Magda was adamant on driving the young German away - she didn't trust anyone, not even the villagers, and she enjoyed living a solitary life in her cabin, only visiting the village occasionally. Jakob wasn't one to give up easily and even though he had to travel back to the cabin several times just to sit outside while Magda stubbornly hid in the cabin, feeling certain that the man would soon grow tired of the game. She finally agreed to work on things outside while Jakob sat nearby and talked to her in his curiously accented Romanian. Grudgingly enough, Magda learned to tolerate his presence and she even agreed to talk to him, interest towards the relentless blonde German sparking inside her. The young woman possessed a surprisingly extensive knowledge about the folklore of the country and this provided Jakob with a good reason to hang around even more. The locals still warned him off, saying that Magda was the offspring of an Iele, a mystical female spirit that dwelled in the forests and mountains, one known for her unpredictable temper. According to legends, the Iele would often fall in love with young men, most likely dooming the man in an untimely death and Jakob was told that this would surely happen to him if he wasn't careful. Of course, it was already too late, for the two had become quite infatuated with each other. Jakob's visits to the cabin became all the more frequent, the trust and affection between them growing, and eventually the German settled into living with Magda in her cabin. Magda was soon pregnant and Jakob wanted to take her back to Germany and wed her before the child was born. The fierce woman would always go into a blind fit of rage whenever Jakob insisted on it and hence, their son was born in Romania on a cold January night of 1913.
The boy had inherited the dark hair from his mother and the vivid blue eyes from his father and as his parents couldn't quite agree on the name and they weren't married, the name in his official papers was Casimir Max Pavenic. Since Magda was adamant in remaining in the forest cabin, Max (as he was now called by his parents) became more familiar with the forest and its inhabitants than with people. Jakob kept telling Magda that they should move to Germany and get married, start a proper family, but Magda just scoffed at the idea and Jakob couldn't do anything to change her mind. Jakob, being the more level-headed and practical one, felt that having Max grow up in the middle of the wilderness would be the same as raising him up as a wild wolf pup, but Magda only laughed at him and asked what was so bad in growing up like that. Jakob, by now having collected enough information to return back to his homeland, was still bound by his devotion towards Magda and he remained with her, starting up a smith's workshop in the village in order to better take care of his family. Magda thought that this was unnecessary, seeing as she provided the villagers with both herbs and services befitting "a witch", for which she was paid with various supplies, but they did not argue over the matter. Jakob felt more useful and Magda took it upon herself to teach her son everything there was to know about the forest.
Max did not only learn Romanian, Russian and German, but he also learned the language of the forest - of the birds, of the trees, of the tracks left on the ground by animals, of the gentle variations in the clouds and the trees. Jakob thought it was all nonsense, of course, but Max learned to love the serenity of the wild forests. He also grew to adore his mother in a nearly fanatical way and as far as Max was concerned, Magda truly was the descendant of a powerful spirit of a forest. She would laugh and dance around the trees, her dark curls falling down her back, her green eyes sparkling with wild and untamed fire. Max would absorb every word of advice his mother had and soon the forest seemed to hold no secrets at all - it was his home and his protector and Jakob could never understand the fondness both Magda and Max had for the nature. Knowledge of the forest was not the only thing Magda was familiar with, for she had many other skills, all useful in making the villagers believe that she wasn't a mere mortal. Max learned how to perform magic (or at least how to make things disappear from his hands, only to reappear out of thin air), how to conveniently swipe things from unsuspecting people's pockets and how to make a quiet and discreet getaway when it was needed. Jakob had no idea of these quite questionable skills his son was acquiring and Magda told his son that it was better to keep things that way.
Seasons came and went, but Jakob was still in Romania when Max had reached the age of ten. Of course the German kept trying to persuade Magda into leaving Romania and getting married in Germany, but it only resulted in conjuring up the woman's fury. Max sided with his mother and rebelled against his father, for he was certain that he would never leave the forests he had learned to love so dearly. On one morning that seemed to begin as innocently as all the other ones preceding it, Magda had simply vanished. She had taken some of her personal effects with her and sneaked out in the shelter of the night, leaving her son distraught and terrified. He had adored his mother like a goddess and he searched the forest for her for days to no avail - she was nowhere to be found and Jakob had to face the anger and hatred of his son when he claimed that his constant talk about Germany had caused for his mother to flee. They waited for the woman to return, but as the first snows of winter fell upon the mountains once again, Jakob had to admit defeat and he took his son with him, leaving Romania with a heavy heart.
Frankfurt was nothing short of a shock to young Max - the constant bustling of so many people amidst the huge buildings nearly drove him insane at first and only in the confines of their small, temporary apartment did he finally calm down. Much had changed during the time Jakob had been away, but the first thing he set out to do was securing a job for himself and making sure that Max would be getting a proper education. In Germany the boy now went under the name "Max Krieger", but the Germanized name hardly changed the boy's wild nature and the constant scorn he held towards his father. He had great difficulties in settling into his new life and constantly got into fights with the other children. He was too different from the others and had the manners of a small and ferocious wild animal. He also soon practiced his skills of pickpocketing on his unsuspecting schoolmates and the first time he was caught in the act, he received a sound beating from his father. This had little effect on him and he continued with his unruly ways, often returning home late in the evening in dirty clothes, sporting bruises and usually also possessing items that didn't really belong to him. Still, he was a smart boy and picked up new information easily and he would have surely excelled in school had he just chosen to. Most of the time he really simply didn't care and in the end he got through school only barely.
During those years Jakob seemed to fall into despair - he had lost many relatives in the Great War, the woman he had loved more than life itself had run away from him and he was left trying to raise up a son who hated him. Work was scarce and Jakob often found himself falling into a torrent of dark thoughts, as if he was being engulfed by a desolate swamp, slowly but surely sinking lower and lower. He felt he could not control Max and the little money he made was soon spent on alcohol. The situation had quickly escalated to a state where Jakob couldn't hold his job anymore and Max provided for himself and his father in the only way he knew - he picked pockets, snatched things from shops, performed magic tricks for people's amusement and slowly started picking up the fine art of scamming people in various inventive ways. The city had become a new kind of forest for him and the people were just a different breed of animal he observed, slowly learning their ways. In his late teens, Max was already a gifted con artist and a thief, while Jakob was still drowning his sorrows in his drink, cursing Romania and Magda for ruining his life.
As much as Max had looked after his father for the past few years, he knew that this wasn't how he wanted his life to be forever. He didn't really consider Jakob his responsibility and Max was already running into trouble all too often in Frankfurt - a thief could practice his trade in the same location only for so long before finding himself running out of potential marks and into the hands of the local law enforcement, instead. One evening Max simply did not return home at all, leaving his father waiting for him, cold terror gripping his heart as he stared at the door. Jakob soon realized that like Magda, Max was gone, never to return. Romania had indeed destroyed his entire life.
Max, now in his twenties, felt elated when he realized that the whole world suddenly lay open before him, full of so many wonders to see, places to visit and naturally, people to rob. They no doubt had far too much wealth in their hands and not enough time to spend it - a situation Max was more than ready to help others out with. He travelled from Frankfurt to Stuttgart, from there to Strasbourg and soon he wasn't even sure which place he had landed on... nor did he really care. He was his own master, free to do as he wished and the only person Max was responsible for was Max himself. His blood was running wild in his veins and it yearned for adventure, never allowing him to remain in one place for too long - his travels took him outside Germany and soon also countries such as Austria, Lithuania, Estonia, Poland, Ukraine and Russia. When he found himself so painfully near to the country he still considered his home, he felt surprisingly hesitant when the obvious idea of returning back home prodded the corners of his mind - what if he returned to Romania and felt that he couldn't leave the country again? Would he be instantly doomed to some simple life in the Romanian countryside? Angrily casting out such doubts, he crossed the border and immediately the memories of his mother and the blissful days spent in the Transylvanian forests came flooding back to him. Of course it would be only natural to travel to Râsnov and look for his mother now that he was in Romania. The idea was far too tempting and Max set upon the task, already picturing the warm reunion with his mother. He could almost feel his mother hugging him tightly, telling him that he had left her son only because she had been forced to by his father, that she would always care for him... but Max never got as far as Râsnov.
His thieving habits were rooted deep within his mind and stopping at a small, rural village on his way, he seized the opportunity and acquired some new property. As he was a stranger, he was accused of being a thief and caught by the villagers - they were right, of course, and he could hardly talk his way out of the situation, for the stolen goods were found on him. Max could only admit his guilt, figuring that he would find himself in the confines of some dreary Romanian prison soon enough. The villagers had their own way of dealing with criminals and, taking justice in their own hands, dragged the man in the middle of the village for all to see, viciously lashing him with a whip until he fell unconscious from the pain. Max woke up from a muddy ditch in the following morning and, shame and anger weighing heavily on his shoulders, rejected the idea of finding his mother. He could not face her mother after such a total humiliation and he turned his back on Romania, vowing to never return there again. His fate would be found in other places and his hand, undoubtedly, in other people's pockets.
Writing Sample:
The lock on the heavy wooden door rattled, followed by a soft click when a key was turned. A hand pushed the door open gently and the person entering the dim, quiet room seemed to take great care in moving silently. The tall man's polished leather shoes made hardly any sound as he stepped gingerly on the crimson carpet, dark eyes peered as he allowed them adjust to the dim lighting. Curtains had been drawn over the only window in the room and even though the mid-day rays of the sun tried to stubbornly invade the darkness of the room, the cloth was too thick to let in anything more than a strange orange glow. The simple room held nothing more but a bed and a worn night stand next to it, one that was now sporting a collection of cigarette butts and bottles of liquor, most of them empty. The bed sheets were in a state of disarray and even though the bed now stood empty, someone had obviously been sleeping on it not so long ago. The mysterious visitor took in the sight of the messy room and he closed the door behind him, wrinkling his nose and coughing at the horrible stench that invaded his nose. It was a mixture of old alcohol and something else he couldn't quite recognize - a smell that was both sweet and bitter at the same time, resembling tobacco, but then again, not quite the same. The man waved a hand in front of his face, an expression of displeasure and disgust now stuck on his features.
The man stepped further into the small room and a loud clink from the floor startled him for a moment - before he realized that his shoe had just hit an empty bottle of beer. He groaned low under his breath and his gaze automatically shifted towards the closed bathroom door. "Max?" the man called out, moving towards the door, but making sure he wouldn't be tripping on any additional bottles or, God knows what else could be possibly found on the floor. "Max!" his voice was now sharper, annoyed, and his hand went for the handle of the bathroom door. If the man wouldn't be in the bathroom, then he had taken off and the mere thought of this made the man's insides churn with anger.
Suddenly the bed emitted a low, almost otherworldly growl and the hand that had just touched the door handle withdrew rapidly, as if struck by an electric shock. The man spun around, just in time to see a hand reaching up from behind the bed and patting the mess of bed sheets, as if searching for something. Arguably, there was a bottle of beer on the bed, but it had long since spilled it's remaining contents on the sheets. The hand stopped, even managing somehow to express something akin to disappointment and then it vanished behind the bed once again. The man frowned in puzzlement at first, but then his eyes narrowed slowly and the frown changed to an irritated scowl instead. He stepped towards the bed, circling around it and appearing all the more disapproving once he saw the sorry mess of a man lying on the floor.
He had been wearing a dark-grey suit at some point, but was now missing the suit jacket and his other shoe. His white shirt was crumpled, slightly dirty and even torn from the left sleeve. The man's dark hair was standing up and he only managed to keep his other eye open as he regarded his uninvited guest. The startlingly blue eye stared at the man for a moment, but then an expression of recollection passed over his features and he closed his eye once again, as if simply ignoring the guest would make him go away. All in all, he seemed like a sorry excuse for a human being, still obviously drunk, reeking of alcohol as he was. "Max! Wachen Sie auf, Sie betrunkener rumänischer Bastard..." the guest growled, poking the man on his foot with the toe of his polished shoe. Max emitted a disapproving, long grumble and his left eye blinked open first, slowly followed by the other one as the man forced himself back to the painful reality. His head was pounding and he felt like throwing up, yet he knew that if he wouldn't wake up, the man would yell at him again - loud noises weren't something he wanted to experience right now. His blue eyes fixed on the unwanted guest and his lips distorted into a rebellious sneer as he placed his hand on the bed again, pulling himself into a sitting position on the floor. Even this simple thing seemed to take a lot of effort and he winced as the headache grew worse, quietly whispered Romanian curse words escaping from his lips at the sensation. The man gave Max some time to collect up his thoughts and he towered over him forebodingly, like a huge vulture sitting next to a reeking corpse - an analogue that really wasn't very far from the truth.
Max's hand went for the pocket of his jacket, only to realize that he wasn't wearing a jacket and the man started looking around in an unhurried, clumsy manner. The alcohol had not left his system yet and he had obvious trouble with his hand–eye coordination. The tall man grumbled and pulled out a case of cigarettes from his pocket, bending down to offer one to Max and even proceeding to light it for him, just to save time. "Ich dachte, dass Sie von der Gestapo gefunden worden waren," the man commented once Max had finally settled into savoring the cigarette and thus appeared more attentive. The Romanian regarded the other man from under his dark eyebrows, his blue eyes reflecting a mixture of disbelief and amusement. "Natürlich nicht, seien Sie nicht dumm. Ich nahm ... eine Freizeit," Max commented, taking a look around the disarray that reigned over the hotel room. There was nothing quite like remaining completely wasted and high for two days straight, now was there?
"Freizeit," the other man repeated slowly and sneered at him in disgust. "Das letzte Mal, als wir sprachen, erwähnten Sie nichts über einen Urlaub. Wir machten ein Geschäft, und Sie versprachen, dass Sie liefern würden. Jetzt läuft Zeit ab ... einige von anderen dachten, dass Sie auch liefen. Um deinetwillen hoffe ich, dass das nicht der Fall ist." The tone of the man's voice became more dangerous towards the end, but Max only tilted his head to the side and let lazy wisps of grey smoke snake out of his mouth. "Ich lief nicht. Wenn ich war, hätten Sie mich nicht gefunden," Max glanced at the man, his expression blank. He obviously meant what he said. "Gehen Sie jetzt zu Ihren Freunden ein Erzählen von ihnen, dass ich sie heute Abend an zehn treffen werde. Derselbe Platz wie das erste Mal, als wir etwas Sitzung hatten."
The man stared at Max, as if considering whether he should believe his words or not. Then again, he didn't really have much choice and he nodded slowly, shifting his weight from one foot to another. "Sie besser einhalten diese Versprechung," he warned, but the most dangerous edge of his voice had already worn off and Max didn't even bother looking at him anymore, nor did he comment on his words. He sat on the floor in his disheveled state, smoking his cigarette and closing his eyes half-way, as if he was suddenly all alone in the room. The other man muttered something under his breath and spun around, partly happy for being able to leave the awful stench of the room, partly irritated that he hadn't given Max more trouble - it was trouble he certainly deserved for making him run here! As the door clicked shut once again, Max regarded it icily and the corner of his mouth withdrew into a lopsided smirk. "Idiotule. Ai gasit-mi si sa-mi scape."
A low, crude chuckle formed in the man's throat and he lay down on the floor once again, placing an arm behind his head and staring at the ceiling as he continued enjoying his cigarette. People were such gullible fools, weren't they?
Translations:
"Max! Wachen Sie auf, Sie betrunkener rumänischer Bastard..."
"Max! Wake up, you drunk Romanian bastard..."
"Ich dachte, dass Sie von der Gestapo gefunden worden waren."
"I thought you had been found by the Gestapo."
"Natürlich nicht, seien Sie nicht dumm. Ich nahm ... eine Freizeit."
"Of course not, don't be stupid. I was... taking some time off."
"Freizeit. Das letzte Mal, als wir sprachen, erwähnten Sie nichts über einen Urlaub. Wir machten ein Geschäft, und Sie versprachen, dass Sie liefern würden. Jetzt läuft Zeit ab ... einige von anderen dachten, dass Sie auch liefen. Um deinetwillen hoffe ich, dass das nicht der Fall ist."
"Time off. The last time we talked, you didn't mention anything about a vacation. We made a deal and you promised you'd deliver. Now, time is running out... some of the others thought you were running, too. For your sake, I hope this isn't the case."
"Ich lief nicht. Wenn ich war, hätten Sie mich nicht gefunden."
"I wasn't running. If I was, you wouldn't have found me."
"Gehen Sie jetzt zu Ihren Freunden ein Erzählen von ihnen, dass ich sie heute Abend an zehn treffen werde. Derselbe Platz wie das erste Mal, als wir etwas Sitzung hatten."
"Now go to your friends an tell them that I'll meet them tonight at ten. Same place as the first time when we had a little meeting."
"Sie besser einhalten diese Versprechung."
"You better keep that promise."
"Idiotule. Ai gasit-mi si sa-mi scape."
"You idiot. You found me and let me get away."
-JT
Account E-Mail: max (that's the account name)
Name: Max Pavenic
Nationality: Romanian
Character History:
The dark forests and ancient mountains of Romania had always been alive with stories and legends, whispered in quiet tones around camp fires and inside the weather-worn houses of the small, remote villages. No tale was too wild or curious for the locals and certainly, it was the lure of these mysteries that compelled the young, blonde German man by the name of Jakob Krieger to travel to Romania. Like many young people of his days, he too had followed in his father's footsteps and adopted his profession as his own - a smith by trade, he had still always maintained an avid interest in folklore and would have certainly pursued related studies had it been possible. He had to settle for reading books and although he made good friends with a local scholar possessing ample knowledge on the subject, it seemed as if the young man's true inspirations would never be fulfilled.
After Jakob's father died, the 24-year old German did not hesitate when his scholar friend proposed that the young man should undertake a journey to Romania on his behalf and collect some of the local lore for his book. Wanting to break free of the shackles of the expectations that had been laid on him, Jakob soon found himself in the middle of Romania, in the city of Brasov, quite unsure of what he should do. He had no real formal training for the task and had undertaken it only out of youthful innocence. He had basic knowledge of the Romanian language and struggled with even some of simplest communications with the locals at first, but since he wasn't the only German around, he learned the local ways and improved his grasp of the language in the process. His task of collecting the stories had a slow and difficult start, but he was soon directed to visit the nearby town of Râsnov for some true Romanian folklore from the local elders. Preparing himself for a stay of two weeks at most, Jakob soon set out with his papers and notebooks, hitching a ride on a horse wagon and feeling elated over the freshly discovered information. The people of the small town regarded the young German with some amount of suspicion, but they offered the man quarters for the duration of his stay and Jakob concentrated on his work of prying about the legends from the elders.
Jakob did manage to uncover some legends, indeed, but he also came upon something he had not really been searching for. One morning his eyes fell upon a young dark-haired female, one who seemed to slip past the villagers like a ghost, as if the people chose to ignore her on purpose. Their eyes met only briefly, but Jakob felt as if the time had frozen when the curious female's sparkling emerald eyes met his and of course, it was impossible for him to forget the pale-skinned woman after this. He inquired about her from the villagers and learned that the woman was called Magda and that she lived some ways away from the town on her own. They also told Jakob that she was, evidently, bad news and best avoided. By now the mysterious female felt so compelling to Jakob that the warnings only enticed him further and soon he found himself climbing up the narrow, forested path that supposedly lead to Magda's house. He was already losing hope, doubting if anyone could actually live alone in the middle of such wilderness, but much to his surprise he came upon the small wooden cabin nestled in the midst of the tall trees. Knocking on the door, he was only met with silence, but as he finally turned around to leave the cabin, the door creaked open and the same green eyes regarded him with suspicion.
The start of their relationship could have been described as being stormy, for Magda was adamant on driving the young German away - she didn't trust anyone, not even the villagers, and she enjoyed living a solitary life in her cabin, only visiting the village occasionally. Jakob wasn't one to give up easily and even though he had to travel back to the cabin several times just to sit outside while Magda stubbornly hid in the cabin, feeling certain that the man would soon grow tired of the game. She finally agreed to work on things outside while Jakob sat nearby and talked to her in his curiously accented Romanian. Grudgingly enough, Magda learned to tolerate his presence and she even agreed to talk to him, interest towards the relentless blonde German sparking inside her. The young woman possessed a surprisingly extensive knowledge about the folklore of the country and this provided Jakob with a good reason to hang around even more. The locals still warned him off, saying that Magda was the offspring of an Iele, a mystical female spirit that dwelled in the forests and mountains, one known for her unpredictable temper. According to legends, the Iele would often fall in love with young men, most likely dooming the man in an untimely death and Jakob was told that this would surely happen to him if he wasn't careful. Of course, it was already too late, for the two had become quite infatuated with each other. Jakob's visits to the cabin became all the more frequent, the trust and affection between them growing, and eventually the German settled into living with Magda in her cabin. Magda was soon pregnant and Jakob wanted to take her back to Germany and wed her before the child was born. The fierce woman would always go into a blind fit of rage whenever Jakob insisted on it and hence, their son was born in Romania on a cold January night of 1913.
The boy had inherited the dark hair from his mother and the vivid blue eyes from his father and as his parents couldn't quite agree on the name and they weren't married, the name in his official papers was Casimir Max Pavenic. Since Magda was adamant in remaining in the forest cabin, Max (as he was now called by his parents) became more familiar with the forest and its inhabitants than with people. Jakob kept telling Magda that they should move to Germany and get married, start a proper family, but Magda just scoffed at the idea and Jakob couldn't do anything to change her mind. Jakob, being the more level-headed and practical one, felt that having Max grow up in the middle of the wilderness would be the same as raising him up as a wild wolf pup, but Magda only laughed at him and asked what was so bad in growing up like that. Jakob, by now having collected enough information to return back to his homeland, was still bound by his devotion towards Magda and he remained with her, starting up a smith's workshop in the village in order to better take care of his family. Magda thought that this was unnecessary, seeing as she provided the villagers with both herbs and services befitting "a witch", for which she was paid with various supplies, but they did not argue over the matter. Jakob felt more useful and Magda took it upon herself to teach her son everything there was to know about the forest.
Max did not only learn Romanian, Russian and German, but he also learned the language of the forest - of the birds, of the trees, of the tracks left on the ground by animals, of the gentle variations in the clouds and the trees. Jakob thought it was all nonsense, of course, but Max learned to love the serenity of the wild forests. He also grew to adore his mother in a nearly fanatical way and as far as Max was concerned, Magda truly was the descendant of a powerful spirit of a forest. She would laugh and dance around the trees, her dark curls falling down her back, her green eyes sparkling with wild and untamed fire. Max would absorb every word of advice his mother had and soon the forest seemed to hold no secrets at all - it was his home and his protector and Jakob could never understand the fondness both Magda and Max had for the nature. Knowledge of the forest was not the only thing Magda was familiar with, for she had many other skills, all useful in making the villagers believe that she wasn't a mere mortal. Max learned how to perform magic (or at least how to make things disappear from his hands, only to reappear out of thin air), how to conveniently swipe things from unsuspecting people's pockets and how to make a quiet and discreet getaway when it was needed. Jakob had no idea of these quite questionable skills his son was acquiring and Magda told his son that it was better to keep things that way.
Seasons came and went, but Jakob was still in Romania when Max had reached the age of ten. Of course the German kept trying to persuade Magda into leaving Romania and getting married in Germany, but it only resulted in conjuring up the woman's fury. Max sided with his mother and rebelled against his father, for he was certain that he would never leave the forests he had learned to love so dearly. On one morning that seemed to begin as innocently as all the other ones preceding it, Magda had simply vanished. She had taken some of her personal effects with her and sneaked out in the shelter of the night, leaving her son distraught and terrified. He had adored his mother like a goddess and he searched the forest for her for days to no avail - she was nowhere to be found and Jakob had to face the anger and hatred of his son when he claimed that his constant talk about Germany had caused for his mother to flee. They waited for the woman to return, but as the first snows of winter fell upon the mountains once again, Jakob had to admit defeat and he took his son with him, leaving Romania with a heavy heart.
Frankfurt was nothing short of a shock to young Max - the constant bustling of so many people amidst the huge buildings nearly drove him insane at first and only in the confines of their small, temporary apartment did he finally calm down. Much had changed during the time Jakob had been away, but the first thing he set out to do was securing a job for himself and making sure that Max would be getting a proper education. In Germany the boy now went under the name "Max Krieger", but the Germanized name hardly changed the boy's wild nature and the constant scorn he held towards his father. He had great difficulties in settling into his new life and constantly got into fights with the other children. He was too different from the others and had the manners of a small and ferocious wild animal. He also soon practiced his skills of pickpocketing on his unsuspecting schoolmates and the first time he was caught in the act, he received a sound beating from his father. This had little effect on him and he continued with his unruly ways, often returning home late in the evening in dirty clothes, sporting bruises and usually also possessing items that didn't really belong to him. Still, he was a smart boy and picked up new information easily and he would have surely excelled in school had he just chosen to. Most of the time he really simply didn't care and in the end he got through school only barely.
During those years Jakob seemed to fall into despair - he had lost many relatives in the Great War, the woman he had loved more than life itself had run away from him and he was left trying to raise up a son who hated him. Work was scarce and Jakob often found himself falling into a torrent of dark thoughts, as if he was being engulfed by a desolate swamp, slowly but surely sinking lower and lower. He felt he could not control Max and the little money he made was soon spent on alcohol. The situation had quickly escalated to a state where Jakob couldn't hold his job anymore and Max provided for himself and his father in the only way he knew - he picked pockets, snatched things from shops, performed magic tricks for people's amusement and slowly started picking up the fine art of scamming people in various inventive ways. The city had become a new kind of forest for him and the people were just a different breed of animal he observed, slowly learning their ways. In his late teens, Max was already a gifted con artist and a thief, while Jakob was still drowning his sorrows in his drink, cursing Romania and Magda for ruining his life.
As much as Max had looked after his father for the past few years, he knew that this wasn't how he wanted his life to be forever. He didn't really consider Jakob his responsibility and Max was already running into trouble all too often in Frankfurt - a thief could practice his trade in the same location only for so long before finding himself running out of potential marks and into the hands of the local law enforcement, instead. One evening Max simply did not return home at all, leaving his father waiting for him, cold terror gripping his heart as he stared at the door. Jakob soon realized that like Magda, Max was gone, never to return. Romania had indeed destroyed his entire life.
Max, now in his twenties, felt elated when he realized that the whole world suddenly lay open before him, full of so many wonders to see, places to visit and naturally, people to rob. They no doubt had far too much wealth in their hands and not enough time to spend it - a situation Max was more than ready to help others out with. He travelled from Frankfurt to Stuttgart, from there to Strasbourg and soon he wasn't even sure which place he had landed on... nor did he really care. He was his own master, free to do as he wished and the only person Max was responsible for was Max himself. His blood was running wild in his veins and it yearned for adventure, never allowing him to remain in one place for too long - his travels took him outside Germany and soon also countries such as Austria, Lithuania, Estonia, Poland, Ukraine and Russia. When he found himself so painfully near to the country he still considered his home, he felt surprisingly hesitant when the obvious idea of returning back home prodded the corners of his mind - what if he returned to Romania and felt that he couldn't leave the country again? Would he be instantly doomed to some simple life in the Romanian countryside? Angrily casting out such doubts, he crossed the border and immediately the memories of his mother and the blissful days spent in the Transylvanian forests came flooding back to him. Of course it would be only natural to travel to Râsnov and look for his mother now that he was in Romania. The idea was far too tempting and Max set upon the task, already picturing the warm reunion with his mother. He could almost feel his mother hugging him tightly, telling him that he had left her son only because she had been forced to by his father, that she would always care for him... but Max never got as far as Râsnov.
His thieving habits were rooted deep within his mind and stopping at a small, rural village on his way, he seized the opportunity and acquired some new property. As he was a stranger, he was accused of being a thief and caught by the villagers - they were right, of course, and he could hardly talk his way out of the situation, for the stolen goods were found on him. Max could only admit his guilt, figuring that he would find himself in the confines of some dreary Romanian prison soon enough. The villagers had their own way of dealing with criminals and, taking justice in their own hands, dragged the man in the middle of the village for all to see, viciously lashing him with a whip until he fell unconscious from the pain. Max woke up from a muddy ditch in the following morning and, shame and anger weighing heavily on his shoulders, rejected the idea of finding his mother. He could not face her mother after such a total humiliation and he turned his back on Romania, vowing to never return there again. His fate would be found in other places and his hand, undoubtedly, in other people's pockets.
Writing Sample:
The lock on the heavy wooden door rattled, followed by a soft click when a key was turned. A hand pushed the door open gently and the person entering the dim, quiet room seemed to take great care in moving silently. The tall man's polished leather shoes made hardly any sound as he stepped gingerly on the crimson carpet, dark eyes peered as he allowed them adjust to the dim lighting. Curtains had been drawn over the only window in the room and even though the mid-day rays of the sun tried to stubbornly invade the darkness of the room, the cloth was too thick to let in anything more than a strange orange glow. The simple room held nothing more but a bed and a worn night stand next to it, one that was now sporting a collection of cigarette butts and bottles of liquor, most of them empty. The bed sheets were in a state of disarray and even though the bed now stood empty, someone had obviously been sleeping on it not so long ago. The mysterious visitor took in the sight of the messy room and he closed the door behind him, wrinkling his nose and coughing at the horrible stench that invaded his nose. It was a mixture of old alcohol and something else he couldn't quite recognize - a smell that was both sweet and bitter at the same time, resembling tobacco, but then again, not quite the same. The man waved a hand in front of his face, an expression of displeasure and disgust now stuck on his features.
The man stepped further into the small room and a loud clink from the floor startled him for a moment - before he realized that his shoe had just hit an empty bottle of beer. He groaned low under his breath and his gaze automatically shifted towards the closed bathroom door. "Max?" the man called out, moving towards the door, but making sure he wouldn't be tripping on any additional bottles or, God knows what else could be possibly found on the floor. "Max!" his voice was now sharper, annoyed, and his hand went for the handle of the bathroom door. If the man wouldn't be in the bathroom, then he had taken off and the mere thought of this made the man's insides churn with anger.
Suddenly the bed emitted a low, almost otherworldly growl and the hand that had just touched the door handle withdrew rapidly, as if struck by an electric shock. The man spun around, just in time to see a hand reaching up from behind the bed and patting the mess of bed sheets, as if searching for something. Arguably, there was a bottle of beer on the bed, but it had long since spilled it's remaining contents on the sheets. The hand stopped, even managing somehow to express something akin to disappointment and then it vanished behind the bed once again. The man frowned in puzzlement at first, but then his eyes narrowed slowly and the frown changed to an irritated scowl instead. He stepped towards the bed, circling around it and appearing all the more disapproving once he saw the sorry mess of a man lying on the floor.
He had been wearing a dark-grey suit at some point, but was now missing the suit jacket and his other shoe. His white shirt was crumpled, slightly dirty and even torn from the left sleeve. The man's dark hair was standing up and he only managed to keep his other eye open as he regarded his uninvited guest. The startlingly blue eye stared at the man for a moment, but then an expression of recollection passed over his features and he closed his eye once again, as if simply ignoring the guest would make him go away. All in all, he seemed like a sorry excuse for a human being, still obviously drunk, reeking of alcohol as he was. "Max! Wachen Sie auf, Sie betrunkener rumänischer Bastard..." the guest growled, poking the man on his foot with the toe of his polished shoe. Max emitted a disapproving, long grumble and his left eye blinked open first, slowly followed by the other one as the man forced himself back to the painful reality. His head was pounding and he felt like throwing up, yet he knew that if he wouldn't wake up, the man would yell at him again - loud noises weren't something he wanted to experience right now. His blue eyes fixed on the unwanted guest and his lips distorted into a rebellious sneer as he placed his hand on the bed again, pulling himself into a sitting position on the floor. Even this simple thing seemed to take a lot of effort and he winced as the headache grew worse, quietly whispered Romanian curse words escaping from his lips at the sensation. The man gave Max some time to collect up his thoughts and he towered over him forebodingly, like a huge vulture sitting next to a reeking corpse - an analogue that really wasn't very far from the truth.
Max's hand went for the pocket of his jacket, only to realize that he wasn't wearing a jacket and the man started looking around in an unhurried, clumsy manner. The alcohol had not left his system yet and he had obvious trouble with his hand–eye coordination. The tall man grumbled and pulled out a case of cigarettes from his pocket, bending down to offer one to Max and even proceeding to light it for him, just to save time. "Ich dachte, dass Sie von der Gestapo gefunden worden waren," the man commented once Max had finally settled into savoring the cigarette and thus appeared more attentive. The Romanian regarded the other man from under his dark eyebrows, his blue eyes reflecting a mixture of disbelief and amusement. "Natürlich nicht, seien Sie nicht dumm. Ich nahm ... eine Freizeit," Max commented, taking a look around the disarray that reigned over the hotel room. There was nothing quite like remaining completely wasted and high for two days straight, now was there?
"Freizeit," the other man repeated slowly and sneered at him in disgust. "Das letzte Mal, als wir sprachen, erwähnten Sie nichts über einen Urlaub. Wir machten ein Geschäft, und Sie versprachen, dass Sie liefern würden. Jetzt läuft Zeit ab ... einige von anderen dachten, dass Sie auch liefen. Um deinetwillen hoffe ich, dass das nicht der Fall ist." The tone of the man's voice became more dangerous towards the end, but Max only tilted his head to the side and let lazy wisps of grey smoke snake out of his mouth. "Ich lief nicht. Wenn ich war, hätten Sie mich nicht gefunden," Max glanced at the man, his expression blank. He obviously meant what he said. "Gehen Sie jetzt zu Ihren Freunden ein Erzählen von ihnen, dass ich sie heute Abend an zehn treffen werde. Derselbe Platz wie das erste Mal, als wir etwas Sitzung hatten."
The man stared at Max, as if considering whether he should believe his words or not. Then again, he didn't really have much choice and he nodded slowly, shifting his weight from one foot to another. "Sie besser einhalten diese Versprechung," he warned, but the most dangerous edge of his voice had already worn off and Max didn't even bother looking at him anymore, nor did he comment on his words. He sat on the floor in his disheveled state, smoking his cigarette and closing his eyes half-way, as if he was suddenly all alone in the room. The other man muttered something under his breath and spun around, partly happy for being able to leave the awful stench of the room, partly irritated that he hadn't given Max more trouble - it was trouble he certainly deserved for making him run here! As the door clicked shut once again, Max regarded it icily and the corner of his mouth withdrew into a lopsided smirk. "Idiotule. Ai gasit-mi si sa-mi scape."
A low, crude chuckle formed in the man's throat and he lay down on the floor once again, placing an arm behind his head and staring at the ceiling as he continued enjoying his cigarette. People were such gullible fools, weren't they?
Translations:
"Max! Wachen Sie auf, Sie betrunkener rumänischer Bastard..."
"Max! Wake up, you drunk Romanian bastard..."
"Ich dachte, dass Sie von der Gestapo gefunden worden waren."
"I thought you had been found by the Gestapo."
"Natürlich nicht, seien Sie nicht dumm. Ich nahm ... eine Freizeit."
"Of course not, don't be stupid. I was... taking some time off."
"Freizeit. Das letzte Mal, als wir sprachen, erwähnten Sie nichts über einen Urlaub. Wir machten ein Geschäft, und Sie versprachen, dass Sie liefern würden. Jetzt läuft Zeit ab ... einige von anderen dachten, dass Sie auch liefen. Um deinetwillen hoffe ich, dass das nicht der Fall ist."
"Time off. The last time we talked, you didn't mention anything about a vacation. We made a deal and you promised you'd deliver. Now, time is running out... some of the others thought you were running, too. For your sake, I hope this isn't the case."
"Ich lief nicht. Wenn ich war, hätten Sie mich nicht gefunden."
"I wasn't running. If I was, you wouldn't have found me."
"Gehen Sie jetzt zu Ihren Freunden ein Erzählen von ihnen, dass ich sie heute Abend an zehn treffen werde. Derselbe Platz wie das erste Mal, als wir etwas Sitzung hatten."
"Now go to your friends an tell them that I'll meet them tonight at ten. Same place as the first time when we had a little meeting."
"Sie besser einhalten diese Versprechung."
"You better keep that promise."
"Idiotule. Ai gasit-mi si sa-mi scape."
"You idiot. You found me and let me get away."
