Private Tales The Legend's Heir

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer

Serafina

The Heir of Marcell
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Serafina could only stare at his retreating back.

Her life had been permanently changed by this man for a year now. He had destroyed her home, killed people she had loved, abused her body and mind and soul, broken it into nothing then remade it to suit him. And now it was over? Just like that? Far worse things had happened on their journey, horrific things, so why would the thought of someone doing what he himself was doing appal him to the point of abandoning a mission that had driven him like the devil himself? Naturally her mind went to the first logical thought which was that this was a trap of some kind. If she left would he hunt her down and punish her?

Sera's brows creased into a worried, anxious frown.

But what if he was telling the truth? Then what? Did she go home to the quiet corner of the world where her biggest concerns were if she was going to have to carry heavy things upstairs for Violet? And then there was always going to be the threat that that would come crashing down on her head again unless the gem was destroyed...

"G-give me the gem then."
 
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Solgrin

Bandit Chief
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Solgrin stopped.

His feet planted in the doorway, his figure frozen like a statue. It might have seemed like hesitation, a moment of reconsideration. He stopped, stalled out almost entirely. Frozen in place he remained there, his body entirely unmoving.

Then he turned.

It was one smooth motion, one sweep. As if he had been planning for it, as if he no longer cared or simply could not take himself on the path he'd been set upon.

A hand flicked out, thumb suddenly snapping forward. Through the air flashed a light, tumbling end over end. Serafina would see it, sense it. The gem flew through the air, dragging against the wind and almost seeming to pulse as it left the Bandit Chiefs palm.

"No more chains." Solgrin reiterated one last time.
 
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Serafina

The Heir of Marcell
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"You were always too soft, Solgrin."

'Sera' shimmered once she caught the gem in her hand and twisted it between her fingers. The voice that came from her lips was entirely wrong though. Deeper and with an accent similar to the Bandit's instead of the Northern lilt Sera had. Her image was the next thing to vanish. It stretched and bulked until in her place stood a man with a well oiled pointed beard and curling moustache which he fingered absentmindedly as he watched the way the gem caught the light streaming in through the window behind him.

"I hadn't thought a little sob story like his would change your heart quite so easily," Cevil chuckled and looked down at the head by his feet, kicking it away with disdain before pocketing the gem safely within his jacket. "But I have to thank you for making this job so much easier. Bloody warfare was never my style but, needs must and all..." he shrugged and offered the chief a cold smile. The door slammed and bolted shut again.

"With you gone I won't have to look over my shoulder."
 
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Solgrin

Bandit Chief
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Most men would have hesitated. Found themselves stuck in a state of shock.

Solgrin didn't.

He was a soldier. He had been trained all of his life to react, to respond, to take in the situation and do what was most necessary. It would have been a lie to say he hadn't been shaken to his core. That surprise colored every inch of him, but it didn't matter.

The Bandit Chief spun around on his heel in an instant.

A blade flickered into his palm, appearing from seemingly nowhere. it darted through the air, turning end over end and headed directly towards the head of the man Solgrin had once called his best friend.

The man whom hadn't betrayed him.

The man whom he'd left behind.
 
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Serafina

The Heir of Marcell
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The shapeshifter raised his hand and snatched the blade out of mid-air. He twirled it lazily between his fingers like one might a feather or a leaf, but he barely seemed to see it. His gaze rested entirely on Solgrin and what filled it was a rage and a hurt that had been forged into a poisonous lance for years.

"Did you really think it would be that simple?" he sounded caught between amusement and exasperation. Slowly he turned the knife until the point aimed right back at the Bandit Chief. "You would let the girl go, free all these other mages, and become a hero again? In the city you burned?" Cevil laughed and shook his head in disbelief.

"You know, I got this little idea from you. About the girls. Selling them to the highest bidder after I saw what you did to your own little pet. Not a bad idea, really. Until others wanted in on the game of course," he looked down at the decapitated body and gave a soft sigh. "I suppose I should thank you for ridding me of that problem."

He threw the knife back towards his old friend.
 
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Solgrin

Bandit Chief
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The knife was batted away a single hand.

It flew onto the ground with a wash of blood, the blade slicing through the back of his palm. No words escaped him, there was nothing to say. Not now, not after everything. Civel had always been a better word smith than him.

There was no point in trying to talk around him, no point in trying to reason or rebuke.

Solgrin had only ever best the man in one way, and he knew that better than most. With rage in his heart he bucked forward, moving like a charging ram. His boots thundered on the marble floor of the room, and in the span of a breath he was upon the shape-changer.

His hands came up, one in a fist, the other in a roaring grasped.

The bandit chief grappled with the man in front of him, pulling him forward and slamming his forehead into the shifters nose.
 
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Serafina

The Heir of Marcell
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380
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Cevil let out his own snarl as the two clashed.

He knew his strengths, but he was aware of his weaknesses even more. After Solgrin had left him behind to pick up the wretched burnt pieces of the kingdom and he had sworn his revenge, he had begun to work on turning those weaknesses from something disabling into something at least passable. Especially when combined with his abilities to shift like he did now.

It wasn't Cevil's nose the Bandit Chief smashed his forehead into, but a mimicry of his own face. Staring back at Solgrin was a perfect copy of himself and the shifter grinned when realisation dawned across his friends face, promptly before throwing a punch into his stomach in an effort to wind him.
 
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Solgrin

Bandit Chief
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An 'oof' escaped his throat, but there wasn't any stalling.

The shifter could make himself appear as anything, change size and shape, but never his weight. It was a fact that Solgrin was well aware of, something he'd known of his friend. His hand grasped after the back of the man's neck, pulling him close and smashing his own fist into his side.

"I'm ending this." Solgrin hissed into his friends ear.

His arm suddenly twisted and then wrapped in one smooth motion around the shifters throat. He tucked himself behind the man, grasping him in a chokehold. His elbow collapsed around the man's throat. "All of it."

Something had snapped within the Bandit-Chief, something he couldn't quite explain.

He didn't want to keep fighting. He didn't want to keep seeking revenge. All he wanted was an end. He wanted to stop.

Solgrin wanted to be done.
 
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Serafina

The Heir of Marcell
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Civel spluttered as the choke tightened about his neck and he began to throw well-aimed punches at the mans kidney's in the hopes of being let go. All the while he was wheezing words he hoped might still his death.

"It's never... going to be over," a wet, rasping sound came from his lips as he drew in a desperate breath. Spittle flew and he tried to wet his cracking lips as he aimed another punch and a kick towards the man's ribs. "You started this, Solgrin," another wheezing coughing splutter. "Your quest for more. You couldn't ever just be... content."

Veins had begun to appear on the man's forehead and his skin had gone a worrying shade of purpled. Around his pupils vessels had begun to pop, turning his eyes bloody. Combined with the desperate look in them he looked crazed.

"You'll never find her if you kill me."
 
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Solgrin

Bandit Chief
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Pain lanced through him, but it wasn't enough.

"I started this?!" his voice boomed out within the room, echoing through the doors beyond and seeming to sunder wood and stone. There was anger, true anger behind the words.

"I never wanted this!" He growled. "They did! You did!"

Solgrin would admit his faults. He would stand before a tribunal and gladly speak of the crimes he had committed. In his day he had slaughtered, massacred, raped, outright murdered. Yet it had not been him who had set them on this path.

His was a way of vengeance, anger. Spite.

Even as the pain lanced through his kidney's Solgrin only tightened his grip. "Even as Elgrin lay on his deathbed none of you could think of anything else. As your King lay dying. You saw opportunity. You saw your own power. That's why I left. That's why I burnt down the Keep. I saw what you were doing. What you wanted."

He cursed, and then his arm relaxed finally.

"The only more I ever wanted was..." Solgrin suddenly tumbled back against the ground. "Was what we already had."

Despair flickered through his voice as he pulled away from his once friend.
 
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Serafina

The Heir of Marcell
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Cevil's body thumped to the floor. It was hard to pinpoint when exactly he had finally stopped talking and focused more on breathing and then when he had stopped doing that too. Spittle ran from his agape mouth and pooled in Venrick's cooling blood. In the last throws of death the shapeshifter had shifted back to his own form - his true form - and the face that stared unseeing into the room was not at all close to human looking.

Einar suddenly burst into the room, the wooden pole which had barred it splintering. The Northman looked at it was if surprised it had been there at all, and more that it had not put up more of a fight. Next he took in the room with that calm, cool, calculating look that made him such a good warrior. He frowned when he saw only Solgrin in the room alive though.

"The attendant said he had heard fighting..." he said by way of explanation. Maria soon appeared in the doorway too with her bag of medical supplies. She pursed her lips at the two dead bodies with open disgust then made her way over to the Bandit Chief to examine him for any injuries.

"What's goin' on, Sol?"
 
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Solgrin

Bandit Chief
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Sol breathed heavily, his eyes filled with tears, his face a mess of rage and despair.

"We're done." The words seemed to echo out in his own mind, a thundering declaration that could have torn down whole villages. His face was pale, his veins seemed to pulse. Slowly he pushed himself up, Maria helping him to his feet.

"We're done." He said, slowly pushing away his companion. "We find Serafina, give her the gem."

Solgrin glanced down, glancing listlessly towards the small glowing crystal on the floor. "Then we burn this place."

He glanced to Einar, to Maria.

"We burn the others." No more hunting. No more seeking. No. "We end this."

That was it. "Once and for all."

Until he dropped dead.
 
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Serafina

The Heir of Marcell
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Maria's brows pulled down into a frown.

"But, Sir... You've searched all these years..." it might have been the medic that had spoken but it was clear from Einar's face that he didn't understand either. Of course, either of them knew what it was Solgrin had intended to do once the gem was complete either. The Northman had assumed revenge, Maria something a bit more subtle, but neither could understand how this situation would make their chief change his mind. It was hardly the worst bloodshed any of them had seen and after losing Nyx most of the bandits had become even more determined to see their leaders desires become a reality.

"We'll find the girl," Einar nodded and bent to pick up the gem. He held it out towards Solgrin. "And we'll burn it down."

The word but hung in the air...
 
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Solgrin

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Solgrin stared for a moment, lips thinning as the Gem was offered to him.

He considered, wondering.

Then he reached out. Not towards the gem, but towards Einar's shoulder. He grabbed the man, then looked him straight in the eye. "We'll do it all."

Solgrin had taken. Had taken so many lives, had taken so many things. He knew his men, had warped their minds, twisted their desires for his own gain. He'd manipulated and changed things for his own end. No more though.

"We'll burn this place." He told her. "We'll find your daughter."

His voice was stern, and then he looked to Maria. "We'll take back The Temple at Athai."

A small gasp came from the Medic's lips. She had been a Priestess once, a long time ago, thrown out from her Temple when bandits had taken it as their own abode. When they'd found her she'd been lost, wandering, and Solgrin had given her a new purpose.

Finally the Bandit Chief took the gem.

"I'm done chasing vengeance. Chasing the dreams of other men." He was not a better person, he was not suddenly changed. "But I will pay back each and every one of you for what you've given me."

With that he stepped forward past his two companions, heading out the door with a shout towards those still within the hotel.
 
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Serafina

The Heir of Marcell
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Einar and Maria shared a look of bewilderment but there was no hesitation as they followed their chief from the room.

* * *​

"What do you mean she's gone?!" Kai held up his hands and backed away from Violet as she advanced towards him with a murderous look in her eyes. She had been enjoying tea with some of the other maids when the commotion had started. As far as the inns owners were aware their lady had been attacked in broad daylight, in their establishment, and carted off to Kress only knew where. The weasel like attendant that had met them on the first day had fainted when he heard: no nobility would want to stay here if they did not think it safe.

Of course, the rest of the band knew the truth of it.

Stealthily they had begun to search the city for any signs of Serafina.

* * *
Sera coughed and rolled over fruitlessly on the pallet they had thrown her on in an attempt to ease the blossoming pain in her ribs. Her room was the embodiment of darkness and her only marker of time passing was the regular food that arrived. Despite their rough treatment, they didn't want her to die. Or rather, they didn't want her magic to die with her. Not for the first time she tried to sense for the gem. That Venrick had a piece, she was certain, and the other man who had taken her face. She shuddered at the memory. When she had spat and announced Solgrin wouldn't fall for his trick he had broken her ribs for her insolence.

Solgrin might have loosened your leash, but you won't forget your place with me...

Her hands came up to brush the collar about her neck and as always when she attempted to pull it off it burned her.
 
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Solgrin

Bandit Chief
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If he'd had an army the city would already be burning.

There was no question of that. Every house would be put to the torch, every manor would be searched. But he did not have an army. He had thirty men. All of them were loyal, more skilled than any soldier he'd ever served with, but they weren't an army.

So they had to be more careful.

The City guard of Tel Amos was enough to outnumber them alone, and that wasn't to mention any of the private guards that the various Nobles kept to themselves. So they had to do this differently but lucky for Solgrin he still had a reputation.

That went a long way.

He began in the most logical place; Venrick's home.

Solgrin and a dozen of his men marched forth, some wearing their new armor, some back in the clothes that they found far more comfort in. As they moved through the city doors began to shut and window shuttered, a few children ran ahead, clearly meant to alert the guard ahead.

By the time Solgrin reached Venrick's manor Tel Amos had gone quiet. The bandit chief marched forward, his foot coming down heavy against the maple door. There was a loud crack and then the hinge gave way as he struck again.
 
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Serafina

The Heir of Marcell
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Venrick's men, as pathetic as they were, were waiting in the entrance hall when the door finally fell inwards. Several clutched swords they didn't appear to know how to use, and one or two hefted large daneaxes as though they thought the bigger the weapon the less skill it required to wield it for fear would keep people away from them. The man at the front seemed to recognise Solgrin and he held his sword out in front of him.

"This is Lord Venrick's home, what right do you--" Einar didn't give the snooty little man a chance to finish. There was a renewed energy amongst the men now. It wasn't just Sol's dreams they were fighting for. The Northmen seized the scrawny rodent up the scruff and lifted him clean off the floor.

"Where's the girl?" he growled and the man shook like a leaf in his grip.

"W-what girl?"

Upstairs a few blonde-haired women gathered in various states of dress, their eyes wide. Isabelle herself was one, though when she saw Solgrin she bolted.
 
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Solgrin

Bandit Chief
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"Grab her!" Solgrin spoke in a snap.

Maria moved out from behind him like a flash of lightning. The woman dashed forward at an almost impossible speed, Solgrin stepping forward to batter away some of the guards standing in their way. As Isabelle ran she would find Maria on her nail.

The guards meanwhile did their best to rebuke Solgrin and the others, but the fight was a quick one. Venrick's men were thugs, untrained and hired to keep a gaggle of girls entrapped. Not fight soldiers made for war.

Solgrin threw his weight behind his sword, cutting through two of the men in his way and kicking them down. By the time Maria reached the top of the stairs Venrick's men lay scattered upon the ground. Some still moaned in pain, others were simple corpses.

Maria herself pushed through the gaggle of women standing on the second floor, dashing forward and grabbing after Isabelle before she could make it too far.

With a loud thud the two girls tumbled onto the floor, Maria reaching forward to pin her query against the ground.
 
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Serafina

The Heir of Marcell
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"I don't know anything, please!" Isabelle sobbed. A silvery collar encircled her throat as it did the other girls who pressed themselves to the walls or slid into closed rooms and barred the door so they didn't suffer a similar fate as Isabelle. The woman beneath Maria squirmed with everything she was worth as the tears rolled down her pretty plump cheeks. She looked pathetic and scared, a fact that only got worse as she heard the footsteps of Solgrin growing closer.

"P-please, you have to believe me," her eyes darted from Maria's face to those gathering behind her. "I didn't... I tried to keep him away from her," her throat bobbed with her tears. When her eyes landed on the gem in Solgrin's palm she began to visibly shake and the sobbing turned into a loud wail.
 
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Solgrin

Bandit Chief
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Solgrin ripped out his blade from the back of one of the soldiers. His feet fell hard on the stairs as he began to ascend. The women at the top seemed to want to scatter, but their hands suddenly tightened on the railings.

They had seen what had happened to Isabelle, and none of them wanted to be thrown to the ground.

"Where is she?" Solgrin barked, his voice a dour mark. He was tired of playing games, he was sick of going back and forth. Tired of these games. Slowly he stepped up towards Maria, parting the women at the top of the stairs.

Maria dragged Isabelle back, pulling her half-way upright.

"I don't care about you." He told the girl. "I don't care about any of you."

Solgrin's voice dropped. "Venrick is dead, his master is dead. All of you will go free, as far as I care. Just tell me where she is."

The Bandit chief stated plainly.
 
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Serafina

The Heir of Marcell
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"I d-don't know," her voice still shook but the tears had slowed and she sniffed and hiccupped more than wailed now. She still looked at Maria as though the woman would slit her throat at any moment, but she didn't raise her hands in any effort to fight or protect herself as though it had been beaten into her retaliation of any kind would always end in more pain. Her watery eyes flickered back to Solgrin and widened in her best effort to look innocent.

"All I know is that Venrick came home angry after m-meeting h-him..." there was no doubt who the 'him' she was referring to was. Her eyes shifted to some of the girls who were looking at their feet. A few of them had fresh new bruises. "He said things which didn't m-make sense. T-that he had found the 'real' girl. V-venrick wanted to kill him, that's why h-he came to you."
 
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Solgrin

Bandit Chief
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It made sense, but it didn't answer any questions. A frown touched his lips as he thought for a moment, then he quickly continued. "I don't care."

Slowly the Bandit Chief squatted down.

He let his eyes fall level with those of Isabelle's. There was a dark look in his eyes, an anger that lay deeper than any emotion a man should have felt. He stared directly into the girl's eyes. Lips thin, his sword resting across his knees.

"They're both dead. Whatever this is..." Solgrin waved a hand. "It's done."

He glanced at some of the other women. "Where do you keep the girls that just come in? Where were you kept to start?"

That was where she would be,
 
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Serafina

The Heir of Marcell
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Isabelle wet her lips, eyes darting to and from each bandit who hovered near her. She whimpered when Maria tightened her hold and shook her like a ragdoll and was about to protest further that she didn't know anything when Solgrin's final question seemed to strike home. She blinked at him slowly, an odd sense of dawning realisation seeping across her gaze. The girl hadn't even thought to think of where she had been held so deep her fear had been. Relief filled her and she relaxed.

"I can show you," she nodded almost eagerly and when Maria finally let her go she scrambled to her feet, eager to obey. She motioned for the pair to follow her back down the stairs and out into the street. Venrick wouldn't keep those still being broken in in the same house. She milled her way through the streets to the dockside. It was no less pretty here but it was quieter and had the feeling being on the edge of 'run down'.

She stopped in front of a door that seemed no more extraordinary than any of the others.

"Here," she wrung her hands. "This is where the bought me when I arrived."
 
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Solgrin

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"Einar." He gestured to the heavier northmen.

The door looked like any other, but Solgrin knew better than that. He could see the heavy steel hinges, the custom locks. This wasn't something made up on the fly, bought at the local shop. No, there was something more to this.

Einar quickly stepped up, not ever questioning, never asking. His axe suddenly chopped with a heavy thunk just next to the lock. There was a mechanical screech, and then a second later the man's boot thudded against the door.

There was a loud crash, an echo, and then the door folded inward.

"Maria." He motioned to the woman. "Hold her."

At least until this was done.

Then the rest of them quickly filed into the room. Swords were already drawn, danger was forgotten. All that mattered now was this last goal. The one before they got what they wanted most.
 
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Serafina

The Heir of Marcell
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Isabelle didn't even protest as Maria clamped her hands around her upper arms. She looked resigned. Broken.

Inside the house stunk of the beginnings of mould and mildew. It clearly wasn't a place that people lived in but used as a means to an end. There was a ratty looking few chairs in what looked like a livingroom and the kitchen looked relatively normal if grimy. The two men who had been guarding the place soon decorated their walls. That was where the house stopped appearing as a house. The basement was covered in blood both old and new, torture instruments lay strewn across a table polished to perfection. On the walls on hooks sat several of the same silver necklaces but this time with matching rings.

Upstairs the bedrooms had been converted into cells. There were two other women beside Serafina occupying separate holds. When their doors were unlocked they pushed themselves into corners and begged and pleading in different languages. When they were told to leave they didn't hesitate in rushing from the room.

Serafina didn't bother to open her eyes when she heard footsteps in the hall nor the handle turning.
 
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