Kaelen Rovelle
Member
- Messages
- 10
Why had it come to this?
Vacant, distant eyes stared past the immediate surroundings - fixated on something far, far away. Whatever it was, it was fleeting as his gaze refocused after a not so subtle thump across his chest. A leather jerkin bounced off his broad chest and into his lap as he looked up. It took a moment to focus on a large green skinned male that stood before him, bellowing something. It was apparent that the message was an angry order, and it was one that had been conveyed before.
”Tog shara. Ekko ve mat. Nart nak.”
Best he could tell, it translated roughly to “Go get fucked hooman.” He could be wrong, but the greenskins seemed to lack a certain etiquette or bedside manner. They just seemed angry, but not just angry. Very angry, all the time, no matter if they were having what would constitute a good day. No happiness, just guttural growls that projected absolute authority. Not that any of that mattered, certainly not as he stood and fastened the padded armor over his chest. There were clear marching orders, pointing him at a mud filled pit, wooden stakes circling the entirety of its surface. Some small goblins, far more muscular orcs, and a few larger trolls lingered around the menacing fence and howled as he emerged from his little cell.
The man blinked a little as he felt the light patter of rainfall across his face, hints at a fast coming storm. He smirked as he took a moment to look to the overcast sky, a near full moon almost hidden completely. It seemed this night would be a sloppy affair, and deep down, he was fine with that. Hidden here in the badlands, his shame would never be known and he could rot away, waiting on that final peace to be granted.
”You know what this means beloved, we both know. You must choose. No longer can you refuse that choice.”
Her words would be more prescient then even she knew. Within hours, far ahead of anticipated timing, her gentle body would lay listless across their bed, throat slit and only the heavy breathing of those gathered to fill the silence. He himself had been restrained almost immediately, some form of archaic magic preventing him from evoking let alone channeling. His body was frozen, as two pairs of strong hands held him down. Yet, in that moment, even if he could not say a word, his eyes screamed with a raw, unfettered anger. Pure rage coursed through his veins as he wanted to fight back, to take their lives for taking hers. Yet, he could do no such thing. He could only listen quietly as those fateful words were the last thing he would remember.
“You foolish, foolish man. Such a poor choice to make, choosing this she-elf witch over your loyalties and blood. But let it be known we are as merciful as you foolish - Kaelen T. Rovelle, Dreadlord and Patron of House Verik, you will be banished. Any claim of title or land is forever forfeit and should you ever be found within the walls of Vel Anir, you will be hung publicly for your seditious acts and heinous treason. Begone from my presence, your actions disgust me.”
A loud crack was heard as he felt the swift impact across the back of his skull. Sweet, loving darkness followed immediately after and that was all he remembered before waking up on a slaver ship days later. What came later would be insignificant, because it was simply a footnote before his eventual death.
His slight reverie was interrupted by a loud, bellowing growl. Walking forward was one of the largest Ogres Kaelen had ever seen, it’s muscles rippling as it gripped a large club and began to quicken it’s lumbering gait, trying to catch top speed. Within seconds it would be on him, sprinting at it’s full speed.
”Ekko ve mat. Nart nak.” Indeed.
Diving to the side, Kaelen’s body barely escaped the sweeping club. Coming into a half roll, he grabbed a hold of a small axe left on the ground. Gripping it firmly, he rounded on the large frame of the monster and continued evading the broad sweeps and meticulously applied chops at vulnerable bundles of muscle as the opportunity presented themselves. Within time, the laboring brute was brought to the ground as it’s ligaments were destroyed and blood spilled from gashes all along it’s torso. Its last breath came soon, and Kaelen gave only a second look before turning back towards his cell, his sanctuary.
That was until all hell broke loose and loud orcish horns were sounded. Someone had signaled for the warriors to muster, which could only mean one thing. Someone or something was interrupting his funeral service.
”Fuck.”
Vacant, distant eyes stared past the immediate surroundings - fixated on something far, far away. Whatever it was, it was fleeting as his gaze refocused after a not so subtle thump across his chest. A leather jerkin bounced off his broad chest and into his lap as he looked up. It took a moment to focus on a large green skinned male that stood before him, bellowing something. It was apparent that the message was an angry order, and it was one that had been conveyed before.
”Tog shara. Ekko ve mat. Nart nak.”
Best he could tell, it translated roughly to “Go get fucked hooman.” He could be wrong, but the greenskins seemed to lack a certain etiquette or bedside manner. They just seemed angry, but not just angry. Very angry, all the time, no matter if they were having what would constitute a good day. No happiness, just guttural growls that projected absolute authority. Not that any of that mattered, certainly not as he stood and fastened the padded armor over his chest. There were clear marching orders, pointing him at a mud filled pit, wooden stakes circling the entirety of its surface. Some small goblins, far more muscular orcs, and a few larger trolls lingered around the menacing fence and howled as he emerged from his little cell.
The man blinked a little as he felt the light patter of rainfall across his face, hints at a fast coming storm. He smirked as he took a moment to look to the overcast sky, a near full moon almost hidden completely. It seemed this night would be a sloppy affair, and deep down, he was fine with that. Hidden here in the badlands, his shame would never be known and he could rot away, waiting on that final peace to be granted.
- ] - [ -
”You know what this means beloved, we both know. You must choose. No longer can you refuse that choice.”
Her words would be more prescient then even she knew. Within hours, far ahead of anticipated timing, her gentle body would lay listless across their bed, throat slit and only the heavy breathing of those gathered to fill the silence. He himself had been restrained almost immediately, some form of archaic magic preventing him from evoking let alone channeling. His body was frozen, as two pairs of strong hands held him down. Yet, in that moment, even if he could not say a word, his eyes screamed with a raw, unfettered anger. Pure rage coursed through his veins as he wanted to fight back, to take their lives for taking hers. Yet, he could do no such thing. He could only listen quietly as those fateful words were the last thing he would remember.
“You foolish, foolish man. Such a poor choice to make, choosing this she-elf witch over your loyalties and blood. But let it be known we are as merciful as you foolish - Kaelen T. Rovelle, Dreadlord and Patron of House Verik, you will be banished. Any claim of title or land is forever forfeit and should you ever be found within the walls of Vel Anir, you will be hung publicly for your seditious acts and heinous treason. Begone from my presence, your actions disgust me.”
A loud crack was heard as he felt the swift impact across the back of his skull. Sweet, loving darkness followed immediately after and that was all he remembered before waking up on a slaver ship days later. What came later would be insignificant, because it was simply a footnote before his eventual death.
- ] - [ -
His slight reverie was interrupted by a loud, bellowing growl. Walking forward was one of the largest Ogres Kaelen had ever seen, it’s muscles rippling as it gripped a large club and began to quicken it’s lumbering gait, trying to catch top speed. Within seconds it would be on him, sprinting at it’s full speed.
”Ekko ve mat. Nart nak.” Indeed.
Diving to the side, Kaelen’s body barely escaped the sweeping club. Coming into a half roll, he grabbed a hold of a small axe left on the ground. Gripping it firmly, he rounded on the large frame of the monster and continued evading the broad sweeps and meticulously applied chops at vulnerable bundles of muscle as the opportunity presented themselves. Within time, the laboring brute was brought to the ground as it’s ligaments were destroyed and blood spilled from gashes all along it’s torso. Its last breath came soon, and Kaelen gave only a second look before turning back towards his cell, his sanctuary.
That was until all hell broke loose and loud orcish horns were sounded. Someone had signaled for the warriors to muster, which could only mean one thing. Someone or something was interrupting his funeral service.
”Fuck.”
