The Fresh Start
Vyren fled the city, fearing the consequences if he were found. He flew for a full trial, before collapsing in a heap. He was found by a small Slave Trading caravan, who promptly clapped him in irons. Vyren spent the next two trials resting, and observing. Through a stroke of luck, he managed to turn two of the guards against each other, and slipped his chains in the ensuing chaos.
He was lost, in an unknown country and without supplies. He ran into several trader caravans, but avoided them out of fear, until thirst drove him to one. Again, his luck held and the Slaver had lost four guards in a recent attack, so hired Vyren on the spot.
He taught him the basics of the whip, and fundamentals of how and when to use the bolas. The man was stern, but fair. It was from him that Vyren got his moral compass, and it was this man who taught Vyren that the strong survive. He caught Vyren transitioning his forms, and was one of the principal reasons that Vyren came to accept his human form as part of him,
The arc spent with the slave caravan was incredibly insightful for Vyren, and helped him temper much of his anger towards his father, instead redirecting it towards Arthart in general.
This time period ended with him entering Korlasir. There, he met Raskalarn.
Servant of Raskalarn
Vyren clomped up the street after Harrow and Reden, his masters boots barely making a sound on the cobbled streets. They had arrived in Korlasir almost a fortnight ago, and were just about to sell off their most expensive slaves-two sister Sev'ryn animal trainers. They had caught the pair of girls as part of a caravan attempting to cross the Hotlands.
The girls had revealed themselves as animal trainers, in an attempt to get better treatment from the slavers. It had worked, and they had been given a lot of freedom during the march to the capital. But now their time together was at an end, and the sisters marched, laden in chains, up the hill.
Harrow hadn't said who was purchasing them, which was out of character for the coarse man. He believed in openness, and was actually very fair for a man who sold people for a living. He was tall and thin, his face covered with small scars.
Reden, on the other hand, was everything you'd expect in a slaver. He was cruel, petty and twisted, but he knew his place in the caravan and listened to Harrow. To Vyren, on the other hand, he showed no signs of respect. He would go out of his way to make Vyren's time more difficult, and many mornings Vyren would wake to find scorpions covering the ground in his tent, and bait buried under his floor. The two had butted heads more than once, just as much due to Vyren as Reden. Vyren would refuse to back down, and often bordered on mutinous when it came to the lieutenant.
As the five trundled up the street, the early morning sun just peeked over the horizon, casting long shadows as it dispelled the night's dew. Vyren's eyes were bleary, and he struggled to keep them open while they walked the city streets. They arrived at a nondescript house, gated walls separating it from the nearby buildings. Vyren looked around, not recognizing where they were.
Huh, thats odd. I wonder where we are?
The gate swung open, but there didn't appear to be anyone there. Harrow confidently led the way, opening the front door as if it were his own house. He twisted and turned down hallways, and wound up in a large, empty room, a single Raskithecal waiting inside. His tail was long, and jet black, and his upper body was strong and lithe. Vyren was normally fine when dealing with the snake-people, but for whatever reason, he felt an instant loathing for the creature before him.
"Good Morning. I assume these are the ones I asked for?" His voice was quiet, and Vyren had to strain to hear it.
"Yes, that's correct. Do you have our agreed upon price?" Harrow's voice seemed to echo in the large chamber.
The Raskithecal pulled out two onyx nel, and Vyren's eyes widened.
I've never seen this much money in one place! He wanted to touch it, to hold it, but he restrained himself. "Here it is."
Harrow took the coins, and handed the Raskithecal the chains, and the paperwork to confirm they were the snakes slaves. He nodded once, and left, Reden and Vyren following close after him. As he left the chamber, he felt the snake's eyes on him, burning a hole through his shoulders.
Back in the fresh air, Harrow smiled and relaxed, his tense muscles loosening. "Haha! We did it!" He smiled at the other two. "That one's one of the Order. Sorry for the secrecy, but this time I've got a reason. I got a message about a season ago without a name, simply stating that caravan, and all its details. I was instructed to go and capture these two, and return to sell them to him." He turned as he finished his explanation, and left to return to their Inn, Reden and Vyren jogging to keep up.
Arc 714, 25th Trial of Ymiden
Vyren was shaken, and he felt himself be pulled from Uleuda. He opened his eyes, and started as a woman stared down into them. His confusion lasted only a second, as she grabbed him, and easily hauled him upright. He tottered, disoriented, and she slowly spoke to him in a loud voice, making sure he understood her.
"Are you part of Harrow's Caravan?" Vyren nodded his head, still confused by what was happened. He took another look at the woman, and realized she was part of the guard. She wore armour, and upon his response, she procured a pair of manacles, and slapped them on his wrists.
"Then you are hereby arrested for treason." Her voice grew hard, and her eyes were flinty as they gazed upon him. She slithered out of the room, pushing him ahead of her.
What, treason? What is she talking about? His thoughts spun around in his head, and he couldn't even form words. All through the Inn he saw the others from the Caravan pulled from their rooms in a similar fashion, disheveled hair and cuffed hands.
They were marched down the street, and were pulled into a courtroom. The massive hall was empty at the moment, but Vyren had seen how packed it would get for regular crimes, not to mention how well
treason would go over. He attempted to talk to Harrow, chained next to him, but a firm rap with the but of a spear put an end to that. The remained standing for almost three breaks as Raskithecal slithered in from across the city. Soon, the room was packed, but the voices remained quiet, as Vyren had expected from the quiet Raskithecal. An old snake slid up to the front of the room, and pulled out a sheaf of paper.
Vyren remained in a daze as, one by one, the members of the Caravan were called in front of the room, and faced with evidence of their 'treason'. They were all found guilty, though the evidence was different for each one. His confusion grew until he caught sight of the Raskithecal they had delivered the slaves to. He was sitting in the middle of the crowd, but he met Vyren's eyes, and smiled, making a slitting motion across his throat.
Dawning realization broke across Vyren's faec.
He did this! The more he thought about it, the more sense it made.
The snake would have had access to the resources to set this up, but why? What did he have to gain? The questions flew around and around Vyren's head, until he was called to the front. He turned and looked up at the crowd, seeing no mercy in their faces. He looked back at the front as they began to describe the evidence against him. He zoned out, staring at the Raskithecal who set this all up. The snakes smile grew, and it taunted Vyren.
I won it screamed. Vyren's eyes dropped to the front, and landed on one of the guards, a faint thrill of hope rushing through his body.
"I invoke the Law of Trial by Combat. " His voice interrupted the man describing his offenses, and he looked up in shock.
The old Raskithecal shook his head sadly, looking at the smaller Avriel with something akin to sorrow in his eyes. "You know what that entails?" His voice expressed hope that Vyren didn't.
But when Vyren simply nodded, the old Raskithecal gestured to the audience, and the snake from the audience came forward. The muscle bound torso was more impressive today than it had been the other morning, and as the snake drew a sword from a nearby guard he felt a small pit of worry in his stomach. His manacles were unlocked, and he was returned his weapons- several bolas and his whip.
The fight began simply, with the old judge nodding to them both. The Order snake circled him, the long body sliding across the stone floor. He dashed in, and Vyren felt a burning pain across his cheek before the snake was gone again. Looking up, he saw the realization of what he was cross the Raskithecal's face. Light energy poured from the wound, and a gasp echoed through the courtroom.
Yludih, yludih, yludih.
He circled with the snake, trying to keep him in his sights, but it made no difference. Another dash in, and more pain flared across his body. Vyren was confused, realizing how out classed he was, but the snake seemed to be toying with him. He lashed out with his whip, but the snake easily batted it away, knocking it from his hands. Again and again it happened, the snake dashing in and out before Vyren even felt the wound. His body began to get weaker as he felt the light energy pour from wounds across his body.
He slowly realized how skilled the Raskithecal was, and started to put it all together. For whatever reason, the snake wanted revenge for something. Based on how closely the judge was watching the fight, he would call it soon. So the snake wanted to inflict as much pain as possible before the fight would be over.
When this clicked in his mind, he decided to go for it. He snapped his wings out, and flapped up, stirring up the dust across the ground, and almost making it out of reach. But a quick lunge by the snake and several feathers fell, shattering as they returned to crystals mid-air. Vyren couldn't recreate them fast enough, and he listed sideways, crashing heavily into a pillar. He fell, but managed to fold his wings up and land on his feet. Fear flitted across his face, and he felt his ankle crack as he landed. It was then that the Raskithecal decided to leap forward, using his tail as a spring. As Vyren fell, his ankle shattered, the Raskithecal leapt forward in a flourish, trying to show off for the crowd. But he hadn't planned on Vyren falling, and the momentum he had put behind his leap was too much to stop. He swung wildly, but missed the Yludih, and crashed heavily into the pillar, shaking the building.
A cloud of dirt rained down from the roof, and the dust obscured the floor. As it slowly cleared, it revealed the Raskithecal out cold, Vyren tottering atop the collapsed body. The judge nodded, as if he had known what would happen, and called out "Innocent". Vyren collapsed, that one precious word echoing in his mind.
Arc 714, 27th Trial of Ymiden
Vyren slowly awoke feeling refreshed, though stiff as if he hadn't moved in trials. He pushed himself up, wincing as cuts across his chest and back pulled. He shifted into a more comfortable position, and looked up. The room was simple, almost minimalist. A plain bed and three chairs, as well as a single dresser on the far wall. A small window let in a few rays of light, which lit up the dust motes floating through the air.
Vyren zoned out, staring at the dancing particles before he caught himself, and shook his head.
Come on, focus. Where am I? Just as he thought that, a small human girl pushed open the door, her head down. In her arms was a set of clothing, and she pulled in a cart laden with various food and alcohol. She brought it in, and set it next to the bed, all without meeting Vyren's eyes. He noticed the brand on her arm, and nodded to himself.
Ah, slave. I wonder if she's one of the ones I brought in... She shifted some things around, and began addressing him.
"Here you go mister. The clothing is to be worn when you meet her Highness, which it in three breaks. The food is to assist in your healing, and there has been a bath drawn for you when you are ready." Her head down, she spoke to the floor, and darted out of the room when she had finished speaking. Vyren stared after her, slightly annoyed.
Dumb little girl, I wanted to ask where the baths were...Oh well.
He polished off the food and alcohol, feeling much stronger once the cart was clean. Standing was a chore, but he noticed a crutch on the wall, which greatly helped with his ankle. It hurt to put pressure on it, but it looked normal, so it should heal properly.
He opened his door to see two massive Raskithecal in armour. They looked down at him, and he quickly asked, "Which way to the baths?" He wasn't used to feeling so intimidated, and he didn't like it, but he refused to let it show.
Two breaks later it was time to meet Her Highness. He had heard Harrow speak of Raskalarn, but only in hushed voices when they were outside of the Empire. When inside the borders it was dangerous, and just plain foolhardy, when the natives could barely understand you.
Afterall, they may assume you're plotting to kill her, or do something treasonous. He snorted,
Not that it saved him from being labeled a traitor. His rumination were cut short as the door was pushed open, and another slave came, brusquely telling him to follow.
When he arrived in the small room, he was surprised. He had assumed he'd meet her in the throne room, but this obviously wasn't meant for the open court. They had twisted and turned down dozens of different passages on their way here, and hadn't seen anyone else for twenty or more bits.
She was standing, facing out the rooms sole window. Her long, raven hair cascaded down her back, and Vyren felt an implacable will emanate from her. As she turned to face him, he was transfixed by her deep green eyes.
"You're the Yludih?" Her voice was rich and strong, and the authority behind is awed Vyren.
So this is true power and grace combined. Those Avriel think they're above this?
He cleared his throat, and responded. "Yes, your Highness, that's correct." Before she asked, he switched, feeling the hot-cold mix that he loved. Shivers went down his spine at the sensation, and he had to refocus on her after he was done.
Her eyes followed the motion, widening slightly at the change. Where a pale, red eyed Avriel had stood, a darker man remained. The change in appearance was drastic, and she never would have put the two together. She allowed a smile to cross her face at the thought of what she could accomplish with such a tool.
"My my, very impressive. What's your name?"
"Vyren, your Highness." He lowered his eyes, feeling like respect would be vital.
"Hmm, Vyren. Now tell me, Vyren, why are you not living in Athart like the rest of your 'kind'?" Her emphasis on the word made it obvious she had no respect for them.
"My father was arrested for treason despite never committing any, and his entire staff, including my mother, were clipped. The smug bastards didn't find me, and didn't even care that they hadn't. When I showed up a month later, it was as if nothing had happened, as if they didn't know who I was. I'm done with that city, and its rulers." His voice leaked anger, but he caught himself and controlled it.
Hmm, rage, but he can control it. This is perfect for me. Raskalarn thought, as she continued. "I would like you to return, as my spy. You will infiltrate the Athartian Slave Raiders, as a Human, and do your best to reduce the city to ruin, however possible. You will also keep in contact with me, and I will periodically update you with tasks I require of you."
She stopped, and looked at him, as if waiting for his response. He looked at her, unsure how to reply.
He made a mental list as he weighed the decision before him. First, he would get to leave here alive, and free, unlike the rest of the caravan. Second, he would get a chance to screw over Athart, and possibly even cause it to fall- he definitely liked that part. And finally, he would gain her approval, and despite just meeting her, he desperately ached for it. The power and conviction she gave off was like an aphrodisiac to him. "Yes. I'll do it."
She nodded at his acceptance, and reached out a hand to touch his brow. "You belong to me now. Do not forget."
As her hand made contact, Vyren felt a band snap out and around his head. As it did so, he felt his resolve grow stronger, and felt strength flow through him. His already strong impression of Rasklarn doubled, and he felt himself tied to her. She removed her hand, and he reached up, finding nothing but his skin.
"Now go, and return. I shall contact you by the method I determine best." She turned around, as if he had already left.
Vyren felt the urge to bow, but fought it, and left the room, his fingers playing across his brow, rubbing the lines he could still feel.
He eventually returned to Athart, however this time as a human. He worked his way into the Slave Raiders, and found himself a place. He hated Athart, and all it stood for, and decided that he would do whatever was necessary to bring the city to its knees.
![[Approved by Jade]](.//images/icons/cs_ok.png "[Approved by Jade]"){kind=icon}
