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Chaosweaver Amon -> RE: (Pre-DF/DF/AQW) The Warlock (1/26/2014 22:09:43)
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Chapter II
After the depths of the ship had been emptied, I was now aware of how many others had been imprisoned down there with the three of us. There must have been at least two hundred more people, some human, some of varying other species that I hadn't even seen before. I now also saw how Geil and Marw looked.
Marw was very tall and slender as a twig, towering over the majority of the enslaved. Thin, greasy hair, black as night fell down a pale, gaunt face, set off by sunken black eyes, a hooked nose, and an unusually pointed chin, coated in a thick black stubble. Tattered black prison rags hung off of his narrow shoulders, exposing his frail arms, with long fingered hands at the end of them. His right arm had a black gauntlet that rose just above his elbow, with a purple rune that shimmered in the light. He was the only one with any form of armor or weaponry
Geil, on the other hand, was quite short, and despite her lack of nourishment from her time on the ship, I could still tell that at her prime she had been quite lean and muscular. She had short and scruffy brown hair, framing a rather pretty face, though dirty and unkempt. She too wore tattered, stained rags, that stank from a distance.
I had absolutely no idea where we were, but from the look of it we weren't on the western continent anymore. We were on a rather bleak beach, and in the place of sand there were endless small pebbles, with jagged grey cliffs jutting over the horizon, made even more ominous by the overcast sky. The winds were strong, and the air was uncomfortably chilly. We stood there, waiting for something to happen as we stretched out our aching limbs as best we could, joints popping and crackling as we were able to move a bit more. The crew of the ship climbed down to the beach. In front, there was a man who appeared to be the captain walking forwards, eyeing us all up and down. As he came closer to me, Geil, and Marw, I could now see the enormity of the man. He was heavily muscled, and matched even Marw in height, with his dark skin riddled with scars and tattoos. He wore a thick fur vest that fell too his knees, and had his hair pulled back into a single long, thick, and oily braid that fell past his buttocks. He paused at the three of us, and looked us up and down, taking a particular interest in Marw. He stood there for a moment, stroking a well groomed goatee that was-like his hair-braided, and fell all the way to his chest. Mawr responded to the intense stare of his pale eyes with a smug smile, revealing long, yellowed teeth. With a sneer, the captain walked on, resting his hand on the large ivory machete on his hip.
After a while, we heard the galloping of horses drawing nearer, and at the top of the closest cliff we saw a pack of armored men staring down at us. The captain shouted something in a foreign tongue up to them, his deep voice echoing off of the towering cliffs. In response, the man at the top of the cliff gave a whistle, and the pack began to gallop down the path leading to the shore. It was now that we were about to meet our new owners.
***
At least three dozen men rode down from the top of the cliff, all armed and armored in heavy steel. In the front of the pack rode a man who appeared to be their leader; he wore a heavy purple cloak with a fur collar, and as he neared I could see his armor was somewhat higher in quality than those following him. Stepping off his horse, he approached the captain with a questioning stare. They were too far away for me to hear what they were saying, but based on the body language it was clear there were some sort of negotiations going on. After a few minutes, the man in the purple cloak started to walk up and down the rows of prisoners, drawing his sword. Every so often he would tap someone, and the captain had one of his men remove their shackles and take them off to the side. After the group of the unchained had started to become sizeable, one brave elf tried to run away, only to be immediately shot in the back by one of the slavers with a crossbow. After that, nobody tried to escape.
Eventually, the cloaked man came upon the three of us. Now I could see that he was rather short and wiry, with narrow eyes and a weak chin. His hair was shaved at the sides, with the top tied back into a tight bun by a ribbon that matched his cloak. He paused at Marw, looking up and down before looking back at the slaver captain, who refused to meet his gaze. After a few seconds of contemplation, he tapped Marw on the gauntlet, who grinned as two men unchained and dragged him over to the others. He barely glanced at me and Geil, and as he moved on, I felt the chains shift as Geil reached up over my head and began to choke me with the chains binding her wrist.
Gagging, I toppled backwards, landing on top of her on the pebbles. She rolled over, and I was now face down with her kneeling on my back, still tugging at my throat as I gasped for air. I managed to get on my knees, and due to the confines of our chains, she had no way to avoid the elbow that I drove into her face before I awkwardly tried to throw her forward over my shoulder, but the chains were too short, so I only managed to yank her higher up on my back. We awkwardly struggled on the ground for a few seconds more until the armored boot of one of the new men slammed into my face. Geil was wrenched off of me, and I spat blood onto the pebbles as the man who kicked me jerked me to my feet. His face was expressionless, he just gave a cold stare before looking back at the cloaked man. He looked back and forth between the two of us with an amused expression. He tapped Geil on the shoulder with his sword. He then came over to me. Staring right through me he raised as if he was going to backhand me across the face, but I didn't flinch.
Smirking, he then proceeded to tap my shoulder.
***
Once the cloaked man had chosen everyone from our ranks, the slavers then took those that remained back onto the ship. Many started weeping, screaming in anguish, or just dragged their feet in sullen silence. The cloaked man signaled to his men, who then brought forward two large wooden chests, and based on the way the men carried them, they appeared to be quite heavy. Dropping them both at the slaver's feet, the captain opened them both, revealing the thousands of gold coins that filled the chests to the brim. With a hearty laugh, he slapped the cloaked man on the back before calling some of the crew over to carry it all back to the ship. He whistled gleefully as he went back to the ship, as his men laughed excitedly from the deck. After a few minutes, the captain gave a casual salute to the cloaked man as they sailed off into the distance.
Once the ship was gone, the cloaked man mounted his horse and called out to us.
"On behalf of my team and I, congratulations!"
His words echoed across the beach, and were the only response he received. He rolled his eyes and chuckled.
"You lucky ones are the ones who I deem the fittest! The best of the best! The alpha togs! I've got an eye for talent, so I've been told."
Again, silence.
"I welcome you all into my service, as the newest competitors of the Smedengard fighting pits!!!"
After still no sort of response, he cursed under his breath and rode off. His men then proceeded to load us up onto carts, with the exception of Marw, who was kept in one of three black metal cages, with his wrists chained to the bottom of it. I again wondered why he was so different from the rest of us. I couldn't see who or what was in the other two cages, but I assumed they must have had something special about them as well.
On my cart there were three others. Geil, a dwarf, and an emaciated draconian. Thankfully we weren't bound together anymore, our wrists and ankles were still shackled, but separate from eachother. It took hours for all of the carts to be loaded, and by the time we started moving, the sun had already begun to set. It was the first time I'd seen the moon in days.
***
The four of us got to know eachother as we rode through the night. Our escorts didn't seem to mind if we spoke, yet we didn't hear a sound out of any of them apart from the sound of their armor moving. They had lit torches, so we could see that we were slowly progressing through a rocky and sparse forest on a narrow and bumpy path. It was uncomfortable, but after being on the ship for so long, air from the outside and a change of scenery were a blessing.
The draconian's name was Keppre, the dwarf's was Bulmor. The two of them had met whilst traveling along the western coast of Smocha Gwova, and shortly after they were caught by the slavers, along with the patrons of a small coastal inn. Keppre had been trying to find safe passage West, after being discharged from the Draconian army he had been part of, for being caught trying to run off with a stash of weapons they had acquired during a raid to sell. His original plan had been to see if he could find some mercenary work on another continent, until he was mugged, and dumped in a ditch, where Bulmor found him. Bulmor had owned a mine in Lymcrest, but once it dried up, he couldn't afford to pay any of his workers, so they quit. Rather than joining with another mining company, he decided he would find his fortune in the west, and hoped to return home with exotic jewels and materials to sell. When he found Keppre laying there, in a near death state, he realized he had found the perfect business partner, and after nursing him back to health, offered Keppre a job as a foreman and personal bodyguard once he set up a mine across the sea. He agreed, and within three days on their way to the port, the slavers got them.
Geil and I recounted our own personal histories, and after hearing about her origins in Sho'Nuff, Keppre took interest. Apparently he had heard the combat styles of the Ninjas, and had even fought many of them during his time in the army. For a while they discussed different styles of combat and strategy, while Bulmor and I tried to get comfortable and relax. Neither of us had any experience with violence, and we came to the conclusion that if we were to be put into a situation in which we'd need to fight someone in these pits that the cloaked man had mentioned, we wouldn't last long. Especially if the majority of the rest of the prisoners were as skilled in fighting as Geil and Keppre were. Instead, we talked about family. Bulmor was a little older than forty, though because he was a dwarf, didn't have parents to talk about, so instead he told me about his 'adopted' siblings.
"Growin' up, we ne'er 'ad much," he said softly "Oldest of eight I was, but now I'm 'te only one left. The others all ended up goin' down in the mines. Ne'er came back. 'Tis a common fate for our kind, I 'spose. 'Specially round Lymcrest. Us dwarves...it seem we've ne'er been able 'te keep our li'l paws off gems and such."
We both chuckled solemnly, trying to find any sort of happiness we could in this depressing journey.
"So what about you then?" Bulmor asked. "What 'appened to yer family once 'ye were taken?"
"Oddly enough, my family was the reason why I was taken."
"Eh? That sounds like quite a tale!"
"What, do you have somewhere to be?"
Bulmor laughed again. "Fair point, fair point. 'Spose I might 'ave a minute or two 'te spare. Let's hear it."
It was harder to put into words now, unlike when I told Geil and Marw. I was so disoriented and sick underneath that ship that I didn't have time to feel emotions. My throat tightened, my stomach churned, and my jaw clenched just thinking about what had happened.
"'Ye alright lad?" Bulmor asked softly, "Who am I kiddin', 'course 'ye aren't. A boy yer age in a position like this...I can't even image what that's like. Go on lad...it'll only help to get it all off yer chest."
"Right," I said. "Sorry."
"Don't be. Go on."
I started from the very beginning. I told him about how I was lucky to get into Edelia once my magical talent was discovered, and how thankfully the harvest was generous that year, and gave me the opportunity to afford it.
"I still remember the first day vividly," I said. "I remember how I had to use my Dad's old boots, and a satchel he'd used in the army. I remember how my school uniform fit me so poorly, since I had to find a used one that I could get for cheap. Even so, it was one of the most exciting moments of my life. Showing up there, with all those questions...all the other kids thought I was just some dumb country bumpkin, and to be honest they weren't far off. Most of the kids were either all rich...a lot of them were the children of the city higher ups, or kids whose parents had attended, etc. That's not to say they were all snobbish or anything, I just never felt that they could appreciate it as much as I did. If they did, they never showed it through their work. Sure, there were plenty that worked really hard...but there was a reason that I ended up being top of the class."
Bulmor scoffed. "Big head ye've got on those shoulders, eh?"
I shrugged. "Like I said, I just worked harder. I suppose I just had more motivation to do so. I was so fortunate to be put in that position that I made a point to take nothing for granted."
He nodded. "Now that's 'te attitude to 'ave. But how did that lead to yer gettin' captured and whatnot?"
Now came the rough part.
"Well..." I started, doing my best to keep my voice steady. "As the years went on, the harvests only got worse and worse. Meaning each year we took in less and less money. I was only able to stay in school because of my talent and work ethic...the school wanted me, and because of that they let me come for free, after a certain point. Otherwise there's no chance I would be able to have kept going.
The whole situation took it's toll on all of us, my Dad in particular. He ended up having to resort to mercenary work, just to make ends meet. My mother hated that more than anything...she hated violence. Because of this, the relationship between the two of them only became more and more strained. After seeing Dad come home from that...bruised, battered and angry...that was when it all started to fall apart.
I learned quickly what killing does to people. He'd come home furious with himself, and after a time he began to take it out on the two of us. First it was just his attitude...angry all the time, wallowing in the misery of what he had been forced to become. There was never a moment without tension, and he knew that. It only made him angrier, and after a while he...he..."
Bulmor only stared in silence. I felt my voice become hushed and tense.
"After a while he couldn't take it. Violence had consumed him. I think in his mind, it was all he had left. He couldn't separate his work from his home life, and we suffered for it."
Bulmor sucked in a quick breath. "By the avatars...I'm sorry fer askin' lad..."
"Don't be. You're the first one I've really been able to explain this entire situation to." I sighed before continuing. "Then, finally, my last year of school came around. I was so successful at this point that the headmaster had already offered me a job at the school for the next year, once I graduated. That was what kept me going. I knew once that happened, I could support my mother and we could leave my father behind forever.
But it never happened.
As I was entering the last few months of school, I came home to my father without a right arm. Now he couldn't fight, and with the harvest bringing in barely anything, we had nothing left to support ourselves. On top of that, father had made enemies in his work, so day by day we lived in fear that someone would kick the door in and butcher us. The day the last of our money was gone was the day this became my life.
I came home, with two weeks of school left, to my father being paid by a man I didn't recognize. As I was grabbed and bound, I saw two other men pinning down my mother as she screamed. After she was knocked out, the man that paid my father cut him down without hesitation."
At this point I became aware that the entire cart was listening in sullen silence as the sun rose, but I didn't care. Tears welled up in my eyes as I concluded my story through gritted teeth.
"If he didn't kill my mother he must have taken her somewhere awful. I'll never forget that man. His face, his clothes...it's all crystal clear. His sword especially."
It was true. His sword was the most vivid of all that I remembered. It was a massive, two handed greatsword, with a wide crossguard, and a single edged blade, with multiple shades of metal rippling down it. It had a heavy black pommel that matched the small beads along the crossguard.
How and why I remembered that sword so clearly remained a mystery, but deep down I swore that when I saw that man, with that wicked blade of his...I'd kill him on the spot.
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