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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Sera's steps slowed as she listened. Every little snippet of his life he gave her she wanted to savour but this one... this one was made her lips turn down at the corners. Her father had once told her that hope was what made people human, so what was someone who had no hope? The worst thing was was that she could understand why he had none in this particular instance. Sera just couldn't bring herself to take that step to becoming the unhopeful.

"Hope is the only thing that got me through this last year."

She ran a hand through the tall flowers they were currently wading through without making eye contact with the man who walked beside her.

"Hope is all I had. And it's all Einar has right now. So we're going to... we're going to hope, Sol."
 
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Solgrin

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Solgrin frowned for a few seconds, not knowing entirely sure what he should say to the words.

Hope had never been much of a cornerstone of his life. There had been so little where he had grown up. Most people had been pushed, ground down to little more than slaves. It was a sad life, and one that had little hope to be found.

"Well." He told her softly. "You can hope for the both of us."

His gaze flickered to the field of flowers, and the hill that lay just ahead of them.

The scene was peaceful, almost idyllic. Atop it sat a singular stone, an obelisk though not carved nor crafted. Instead it simply stood shaped by the earth itself, a series of runes embedded deep into the stone itself.
 
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Serafina

The Heir of Marcell
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Sera slid her hand into his at his words and wordlessly squeezed once before letting go.

Her fingers went back to trailing through the flowers and by the time they reached the monolithic stone she had plucked herself a small collection which she brought to her nose to smell. It had the fresh scent of spring she loved so much.

"It must have been here since the towns founding, probably before," she commented after they inspected it. Her eyes ran over the different words or runes. Each few paragraphs seemed to be different. "These look almost like... rules," she motioned to the first seven. "Like laws for the town to abide by. No stealing... no murder," her fingers ran down the list. "Then this... this is newer," she tapped half way down.
 
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Solgrin

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Solgrin couldn't read the rules entirely, but a few words sprang out at him.

He'd not had much of a formal education, but over the years had picked up enough of more than a few tongues to understand and read. The words that stuck out to him were typical; 'murder', 'steal', oddly enough he recognized one for 'sheep'.

A frown pulled at his lips as Sera crouched besides the spire. "It's also in a different tongue."

The Bandit Chief noted.

It wasn't entirely dissimilar, the runes had the same general curve and shape yet even he could tell the slight difference. As though it were more of a root language, or perhaps an off-shoot of the other.
 
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Serafina

The Heir of Marcell
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Sera nodded in agreement, her nose wrinkling up in thought.

"I can't read it, but it looks... familiar," what had been that book she had been reading? It niggled at the back of her mind, poised on the tip of her tongue, but every time she thought she had its name in her grasp it vanished like smoke. It was infuriating. Sera turned to him with an expression of pain and pleading, like she hoped he would somehow be able to tell her what it was her own mind had forgotten. Then she blew out an exasperated sigh.

"Maybe if we copy it one of the townspeople will be able to read it."
 
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Solgrin

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Solgrin watched for a few moments, then nodded his head. "Someone might know."

There was always a chance that even one of the bandits might recognize the symbols.

Such things weren't entirely out of the question. Most of them were...unedcuated, but a few of them had been taught stories and the like. Some had even gone to school before finally ending up in Solgrin's company. It was worth a shot at least.

"Make an etching." He told her. "We'll take it back and see."

A frown touched his lips. "I think the mayor might even have a library..."
 
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Serafina

The Heir of Marcell
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Sera nodded, her brows knitted into a thoughtful frown.

Lost in thought she took the backpack off her shoulder and crouched down to rummage through the various odds and ends she kept in it. The gang could move off so suddenly that she had taken to keeping a small bag of things on her at all times so if they had to leave behind everything else she had the basics. Part of what included a book apparently, for she removed that now, and a few sheets of parchment which she also took out. She was just about to stand up and copy the markings when an uneasy sensation crept up her back.

"Sol..." she said quietly, trying not to draw attention to herself by continuing with what she was doing. "I think we're being watched."
 
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Solgrin

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A frown touched his head, but deliberately Solgrin continued to look down at Serafina as she made the rubbing. "Alright."

He said quietly.

The list of who could be watching them was about as long as his arm. Someone from the village, the necromancers, a few of his old friends. Trying to guess now would just lead to speculation. Best to just be aware.

"Continue on." Solgrin said quietly. "Pretend nothing is going on."

Slowly he stood up, arching his back in a stretch. "We'll look for them on the way back."

It would be better if whomever had eyes on them still thought them unaware.
 
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Serafina

The Heir of Marcell
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It took every ounce of will power for her not to turn and look up at him when he spoke. Instead she kept her eyes trained on the task in front of her and in taking the time to make sure the etching was as perfect as she could get it. If too much of it was smudged or unreadable then it could alter the whole sentence. Of course, it could be a super simple language and she was over thinking it but she'd rather not do the hike again.

All the while the feeling grew worse. It turned from as feeling, to an itch, to a burning feeling between her shoulder blades. She jumped to her feet as soon as the last bit was etched.

"Let's get out of he--" she begun as an arrow thudded into her boot.
 
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Solgrin

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The moment he heard the thud of the arrow Solgrin suddenly turned on his heel.

Before Serafina could say or do anything at all he swept her off of her feet. His arms wrapped around her like a bear, tugging her in close and dragging her against himself. Then he booked it as fast as he possibly could down the way they had come.

Another arrow soared through the air.

It punctured through his clothes, into his flesh. Then was quickly joined by another, and then another.

They rained down now, from at leas two or three bows. Yet Solgrin ignored every single one of them. He rushed forward as fast as he possibly could, running down the slope and sprinting over the crest of the hill until the arrows began to fall short.

Behind him he could hear cries, though they were far too distant to understand.
 
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Serafina

The Heir of Marcell
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Sera was uttering every curse she had learned from the Bandits at the shooting pain running up from her foot where the arrow had buried itself. If Solgrin had not picked her up then she would not have been able to walk let alone run at the speed he did. She winced at every arrow that thudded into his back but ducked when one soared too close to her. She didn't bother shouting anything as they ran, not until the arrows fell short and then even further behind then stopped altogether.

"Sol! Sol, stop, you're bleeding,"
she thumped his shoulder. "I know you heal but you'll bleed out if I don't take those out," she touched the points that had gone all the way through his chest.
 
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Solgrin

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His head shook as he continued, though his steps noticeably slowed. "Won't."

Solgrin realized in that moment that he had never quite explained just how deep his curse ran. What it could do for him and how far it had set into his bones. There was a reason that it's price was death, that he was so confident it could not be broken.

As he trudged forward, moving down the hill and out of view of whomever had shot those arrows.

"It'll replenish." He told her swiftly. "Focus on..."

Solgrin glanced half back over his shoulder. "Focus on hiding us."

It was something they had never practiced, something he'd never directed her to do. But if ever there was a time to learn something new. "Bend the light, cloak us into the shadows. Whatever it is...just hide us."

The Bandit Chief urged.
 
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Serafina

The Heir of Marcell
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"Just bend the light," Sera repeated hysterically. "Just bend the light Sera," her cheeks began to flush with her rising panic. Magic took time. The spells she knew had taken months of training and that had been with him guiding. It had only been a matter of weeks since he had let her destroy the gem and had regained her magic for herself. What she had learnt since then... it was sketchy at best.

Her eyes flickered over his shoulder to the hills beyond. Did they have horses? Would they be coming after them?

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Sera shut her eyes and tried to concentrate on the magic within her.

For a long while nothing happened. She tried twisting things this way and that in her mind to no avail. The different weaves of her magic seemed close to forming something then fizzled and died. She was always so close but never there. Until finally. Finally.

It wasn't quite bending light. Instead Sera seemed to create some sort of mirror that hid them from view and bounced back the view of an empty path to anyone glancing in their direction.
 
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Solgrin

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As Sera focused, as she pulled in her power and began to draw the magic around them Solgrin finally began to slow.

His steps seemed to shift, stagger as his gait slowed down. A heavy breath drew into his lungs, and he took one quick step off the path and just to the left so if anyone walked down their way they would at least not be directly stepped on.

As the odd mirror shifted, the air around them turning into half a haze Solgrin collapsed to his knees.

A stifled grunt escaped his throat, three of the arrows that had pierced his back shifting as he put Serafina down onto the ground. His breath sounded labored, and he could feel his flesh already beginning to form around the arrows as his wounds attempted to heal.

Behind them figures began to appear on the hilltop.

It was only one at first, then two, then three more. Five men, hooded and cloaked in strange green garments peered down the small valley. Each of them held a bow made of what appeared to be bone, their eyes scanning.

"They must have cut East! Get the Horses."​

One of them shouted, though his voice was barely audible.

Solgrin narrowed his eyes, desperately trying to get a better look at the men. These weren't necromancers, no...the attack would have come as magic. "This doesn't make sense."

He whispered quietly.
 
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Serafina

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Sera couldn't care one fig less about the shouting on the hill. As he set her down she scrambled onto her knees despite the searing pain in her foot and gently ran her hands over the arrowheads poking from his chest. Her eyes widened to see flesh beginning to knit together as though it did not care about the wood still in it. What would happen if it healed fully with them still lodged inside?

"We need to take these out before you become a permanent pin cushion," she grabbed at the small dagger she now carried on her at all times and brought it up to begin sawing at the wood so they could pull it free.

"This is going to hurt a little," she said apologetically before beginning.
 
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Solgrin

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Solgrin grunted. "I'm sure they'd get pushed out eventually."

The Bandit Chief said with a shake of his head, though he wasn't entirely sure that it worked that way. He knew the body pushed out splinters after enough time, a natural response...but he wasn't entirely certain the principal was the same with arrows.

"Bu-' He cut himself off as Serafina dug into his back with a knife. There was a slight squelch of flesh, and then she wrenched the arrow free.

Teeth sank into his own tongue as he grunted. "I am accustomed to pain."

Solgrin said with a sharp breath.

"I have no idea..." He said with another grunt. "Who those people were."

A fact which immensely bothered him.
 
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Serafina

The Heir of Marcell
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"They must be the necromancers, right?" Sera asked a little breathlessly as she dropped the third arrow to the floor. She then set her hands on the last one. She'd tried to be gentle to begin with but had found the slower she went the quicker the flesh knitted together and slowed the arrow. It was easier to be quick even if it was more painful.

Her hands were slick with blood by the time she was finished.

Tenderly she sat down and stretched her own arrow-pin-cushioned foot out as much as she could. Unlike Sol she did not have the ability to repair her own flesh, her magic unable to work on herself.

"Pull it out quick," she insisted.
 
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Solgrin

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"I don't know." He admitted. "I don't think so."

Why would necromancers attack with arrows?

That didn't make any sense. Sorcerers, be it necromancers or whatever else used the weapon they were most accustomed to; magic. A frown pulled at his lips as he slowly shook his head, but before he could think on it any more Serafina directed his attention.

For a moment he hesitated. His hand softly wrapped around her leg. "Okay."

Solgrin told her.

"On three." His voice was soft, calm. "One...two..."

Before he ever hit three Solgrin suddenly wrenched the arrow free. The movement was swift, straight. Fast enough that it left the wound clean. A second later he tore off a strip of his clothing, pressing it over the wound.
 
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Serafina

The Heir of Marcell
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Sera let out a pain-filled cry as he ripped the arrow free. Her foot throbbed in agony and she collapsed back against the floor with her hands fisted against her face in an effort to try and stuff the scream back inside. Her magic had given them a shield of sorts but as far as she knew it didn't block out sounds. It might undo all her work if she gave the game away now.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," she whimpered. "Is it bad?" she asked, not daring to peek at the state of her foot and the fact she could see daylight through it.
 
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Solgrin

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"It's okay." Solgrin told Sera as he leaned over her. "It's fine."

It was a funny thing.

He was so used to his own wounds healing, so inundated with the wounds his men usually took that he didn't realize Serafina had never much known anything of the like before now. "It'll heal just fine."

The Bandit Chief assured her.

"Might mean you limp for a little while, but you'll be alright." The Arrow hadn't hit the tendon, and that was the most important thing.

Fingers slowly stroked through her hair. "I'll carry you back, and we'll get you some rest."

And proper bandages. Then he could figure out who in the fuck had attacked them.
 
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Serafina

The Heir of Marcell
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Sera looked as white as a sheet and the shock was beginning to settle in for she shivered like it was cold despite the layers of furs she wore. But she nodded all the same to what Sol said, trusting him implacably that she would be fine. She probably would have believed the same if the arrow had been through her heart instead.

"I always end up limping," she joked, thinking of her broken leg all those months ago. A lifetime ago. She allowed herself to enjoy the soft stroke of his fingers through her hair until she felt like she wasn't going to throw up then slowly sat up. Her eyes automatically drifted to where his own wounds had been and let out a sign of relief at the clean, smooth skin.

"I always worry that you've reached the last time you'll heal," her fingers grazed over his chest to reassure herself he was fine before glancing up. "Maybe they are just... hired by the necromancers to protect the stone."
 
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Solgrin

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"It'll be a while yet." Solgrin said, knowing that the words would be a soft comfort in the face of what was to come.

He knew, somehow, that he would be able to feel the wane of the course.

The life, the false life, taht he now lived would deteriorate. Such things had not been spelled out, and yet he knew it for a fact. There was no stopping that, the rot that would eventually set in. Not now after the decision he had made.

"It could be." He said with a nod. "Or."

Solgrin frowned,peering back at the road. "Perhaps some of the villagers aren't so unhappy with their lot after all."
 
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Serafina

The Heir of Marcell
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Sera was glad he was letting her have a moment before they left the safety of their tiny little grove. She inched herself backwards until her back hit a tree and let herself relax a little more. Her foot still hurt and she debated taking it out of the boot altogether but remembered Maria telling her it made the swelling worse by doing so. Best to wait.

"Why would the villagers attack us though? We're trying to help," she frowned. Though... thinking of how it might have looked to them from afar perhaps they hadn't looked like they were at the stone for good reasons. She blew out a breathe. "If it was the villagers then some of them might know more about the stone, they might even be able to tell us what it says."
 
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Solgrin

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Solgrin nodded. "They might..."

He conceded.

"But they might not want to either." For a brief moment he let the implication hang in the air, his head shaking. "Perhaps what you found on the stone will reveal more, but...I think there must be a reason to have made this bargain in the first place."

Something that benefited not just the necromancers, but the villagers. "It could be that some in the village don't want us to help."

If that was so, then it would reason that they would try to stop Solgrin and the others, or at least stall them long enough to bring some of the Necromancers.

"We've stopped anyone from going to the Temple, but this way?" Solgrin had not set scouts, mostly because it was in the complete opposite direction of the temple itself.
 
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Serafina

The Heir of Marcell
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Sera paused when she considered the idea some people might not want their partnership to end. Necromancy was just so obviously... wrong. Their loved ones, their dead, were being given over to monsters to do the Saint only knew what. It would turn her stomach over to think of it if it were her, and the majority of those she had spoken to seemed to feel the same. She'd been so sure in her conviction what they were doing was right but what if... what if she had spoken to a minority of the town?

"What do we do?" she asked quietly, looking to the older man opposite her with the wisdom of seeing more of the world than she.
 
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