Flashback The Early Lessons

[Mors]

Before he was mors, before he wore this persona, before he was shaped and before he had a care in the world. Mors was an orphan, though it wasn’t as sad as it sounds, he roamed free, with no cares or complaints.

Spring 499

He awoke and stretched his arms above his head, he’d spent the night in the loft of a barn. He looked outside to see the sun high in the sky. Panic gripped his heart and he leapt out from behind the haystack and look out to see the people who worked the land were well underway, working their menial jobs. It would be hard for him to escape now. The eight year old, peaked over the edge of the loft looking for anyone inside the barn. He put an unsteady foot onto ladder and began his climb down. Once down he scoured the area looking for a better way out. In that moment the massive doors began to slide open. He leapt for a stall and curled up against the front. Trying to hide, he held his breath waiting to be discovered. There was a steady stream of people going to and fro, eventually when it began to die down peaked out to watch the last man leave. He went out the opposite door, the coast was clear and he snuck off into the adjacent woods. He hated adults, they always felt bad for him, wanted to take care of him or give him to an orphanage. But he didn’t care, he liked living off table scraps and sleeping in odd spots. He made his way through the forest, and began his journey back to the city. In the countryside the people were a lot nicer, and thats what the problem was. He didn’t want more parents. Once he reach the out skirts he kept low and snuck in under cover of dusk. He crept closer to one of the many houses, it seemed abandoned. He tried the door handle, but it was stuck. He snuck around the house looking for windows he could reach, luck would have it he found just the one. He pushed in and the windows separated. He crawled in after opening the window and set up camp in the small corner, He pulled out the rattey blankets and made himself a nest. He slept soundly, so soundly he didn’t hear the residents owners come home, and didn’t move when they picked him up.

He awoke with his face slamming into the ground, his teeth were singing, and his face hurt really badly. He fought back the tears that sprang to his eyes, and looked over his shoulder to see two pairs of eyes, apparently it had been someones home. He scurried into the darkness and moved away from the house. It would be a lesson to remember. He found a good spot to sleep inside one of the lesser muddy alley ways. When he woke this time it was to the sound of the local caller waking up the cities early risers. He layed huddled and cold, waiting for the sun to wake fully.

His belly made a grumbling sound, a sound that could easily give him away. He walked behind the street vendors, his eyes darting to and from his intended target. No one had noticed the small grungy bow casually walking behind each vendor. Finally reaching the fruit stand he slipped into the nearby alley and waited for the vendor to walk past to relieve himself. He’d waited for fourty five minutes before his got his chance. The man walked by, and he slipped out grabbing two apples, a pear, and what looked to be the mans breakfast. A lump of cheese and bread. After that he hauled down the street, moving as fast as his child legs could carry him. No one bothered to stop him. After zigzagging through houses and alleyways he finally stopped to rest sure he’d lost any pursuers. He sat down and gobbled the cheese then the bread. He took a couple bite from the apple, and began to contemplate what it was like to drink wine. He’d always wondered and as sure as hell thought he deserved to drink it too. He took care of himself and he was doing good. He was as good as grown up. Tonight he’d steal some. He ate around the core, then pocketed the fruit along with the other ones. He stretched his limbs, got to his feet and went to find the local well.

He’d drank the water in heaping gulps taking in as much as he could. He cherished the taste, loved it. The people around him looked in awe, the city people weren’t so kind they wouldn’t help him. The dried blood on his face was a testament to that. A woman walked up with her bucket, and he gave her an angry growl. She swung the wooden pale and he ducked and rushed past her. He scurried into an alley and away from the well, back towards the vendors. A Tavern was nearby the market area. He found it, recalling its position in comparison with the apple vendor. The building was pretty big, and had lots of oportune areas to sneak into. He found that the cellar door was unlocked, sneaking down the stairs he waited for his eyes to adjust before he rounded the corner into the basement. He began to open crates taking cheeses, dried fruits, some meat, by the time he was done his ratty cloak had been bundled up into a makeshift carrying sack that tied to his front. He finally found his intended target, he stuffed some cheese into his mouth and shuffled over to the wine, there were what seemed to be like hundreds of wine cases. The jugs were very large and it would be hard enough to escape with the satchel like pouch stuffed with food. He grabbed a dusty bottle, one he didn’t think anyone would care for. If it had been left alone for so long no one would miss it. It was probably a gross kind anyway. He left the cellar, as he reached the top he pressed himself to the wall almost dropping the jug. A man with a cart passed by at the moment he was coming out, he followed the man, the cart masking his noise.

He navigated the alleys once more and found a good sleeping spot he layed out his feast of dried fruits and meats. The wine sitting next to them. He decided to try the wine first. He took a couple sips, it was sweet and had a funny aftertaste. It wasn’t bad but it would take some getting used too. After every bite he washed it down with wine and soon the world seemed to be spinning. He stumbled away not feeling very well and began to retch, he puked red, It was the same color of his beloved wine. He stumbled into the street and fell down. vomiting onto the dirt roads. Had the food been poisoned was he drunk like the adults? If so he didn’t care much for the vomiting, but other than that he felt great. After he’d cleared his stomach he crawled back to his food and began to lazily eat what was left of it.

[Mors]

A man approached his eyes locked onto the drunk street urchen. The little animal had stolen a decent amount of food and a bottle of wine. He got closer and hollared at him “Hey, you, HEY” Once he reached the child he grabbed him by the scruff and hauled him up. The boy vomited onto his shoes. He reached back and punched the child, hitting him square on the jaw. “ You little piece of trash. He kicked him while he was down, which caused him to vomit again. Which in turn made him begin to kick harder “ You piece of shit, you’re filthy and worthless. You pollute the streets with your thievery. “ He was doing the city a service, and in his mind he was a knight. The boy was a sickness.

The man beat him for what seemed like an eternity, once he was done kicking he began to toss him about. His nose was well and bloody his face cut and bleeding. His body was already bruising. Finally the man had run out of steam, he squatted down next to him, and spat onto his face. He was left in the street covered in his own blood and vomit. His vision was very blurred and he didn’t feel well. He faded, when he woke, the sky was raining lightly the dirt road he’d been thrown into was now a pool of mud. He was still laying there with no intention of leaving. People scurried all around. Rule number two, don’t drink too much wine and steal too much food. His entire body was broken. He crawled towards the alley, it was incredibly painful. He huddled into a ball and waited for the rain to end.

He hadn’t moved from his ball for almost two days and thirst drove him to limp to the well. He was covered head to toe in dried mud, parts of him still peaked through. pale skin ragged long hair. He fell down by the stones of the well, and crawled up them , raising the bucket he drank from it greedily, his body hurting. After his fill he scurried away. Finding a new place to mend. He wasn’t up to stealing food his body too broken. He pulled out the apple core and began to munch on it, his other apple and pear had been lost in his beating. Rule three, don’t get beat up.

He spent two more days days healing, but also scavenging. He found more food and more things to eat. He looked awful what wasn’t flaking mud was a hideous purple bruise that refused to leave. His clothes had become stiff with grime. And he slowly made his way out of the city. A nearby stream provided perfect place for him to play. He splashed in the water fully clothed and tried to catch some fish. He played for hours, and as the day wore out so did he. He crawled away with clean clothes and a clean body. His hair was in tangles and was becoming very long.

He had survived for two years on his own and would easily survive longer, the following weeks went by in a blur as he lounged and stole his daily portion of food, some more of that wine stuff though it tasted a little more bitter. Turns out the older the better. He never slept in the same spot and tried to never steal from the same person. He even got so bold as to start stealing from homes.

His clothes had began to shrink on him and his hair was a nasty mop. He’d attempted to steal some new trousers earlier and had a close call. He picked at the ratty pants and thought. He saw some homeless beg for coins some would down right take it from the others. But he began to see the real picture. The regular people had money, and money bought clothes and food. He needed to get gold. He contemplated it for a few days, not stealing from vendors or other like sources. The locals were too smart, and too guarded. They had grown up accustomed to thievery and other things of ill repute but there were few in the city that felt safe, the men of the church, nobles with their guard, and fresh newcomers. Traveling merchants were pretty smart too. They’d seen much of the lands and knew how to deal with thieves. A lot of people kept a coin purse on them, if he could get that he’d be good for awhile.

He rubbed his hands together warming them with friction the morning light seeping through the close by mountains. Today he would try to steal some gold, and he knew just the people to steal from. As people began to rise and do their daily routine Mors snuck through the town making sure no one saw his approach. He sat outside a local tavern waiting for drunks and other people of such nature to come shuffling out. As the night continued on only a few came out, most seemed sober enough to put up a good fight. Another hour and a target walked out, he stumbled slightly catching himself before he fell. He eyed the small pouch on his hip hoping for gold mizars.

The man stumbled on, and the boy followed like a shadow, Another stumble and he grabbed for the pouch, though it was securely fastened to his belt. The man turned to swat away the would be thief but he held on. Grabbing and yanking hard the pouch tore asunder and the boy fell along with the man. The ground had several coppers and a few silver, but not much else. He quickly scooped up the silvers with some coppers, as he went to make his get away a large rough hand grabbed his foot tripping him into the street. He fell, spilling his bounty before him, turning he kicked the man as hard as he could, his foot smashed into the older male’s face causing him to grab his nose, he scurried to the silvers picking up a few as quick as he could before he began to run.

His lungs hurt he ran so fast, air filled them and then was pushed out with rapid succession, he had lost a couple silvers but had enough for a decent meal and some clothes. The following day, he bought suspenders, and a tunic with a pair of worn boots. He began to sleep more during the day and prowl at night, looking for drunks or other such folks. A few times he bit off more than he could chew and would get beat, or taken to the constables, though he managed to slip off every time. Through his thievery he had stockpiled a fair amount of silvers, he bought himself a nice little knife to tuck into his new belt. It was nearing midsummer and it seemed more and more out of towners were trickling in.

[Mors]

On one such morning he watched as a carriage was driven into town, its occupants unknown. The driver was well dressed, the boy was convinced that they had to be lost. So he followed them, they found a decent inn and set up camp evidently they had been riding for quite sometime and needed to recuperate. They were gone for awhile before reemerging, three males. He’d been in similar situations, a couple or more males would hold up, and at the break of dawn he’d make a run for them. It was odd, the nobleman had emerged by himself and was sifting through his carriage. He blended with the shadows the moon cast. He didn’t make a sound, his knife drawn and he came in for the score. The man seemed more tense as he approached, he put the tip of the knife against his back, and paused, waiting for the coward he knew was inside every blueblood. It never came they stood in silence and then after what seemed like an eternity he spoke. “Are you a thief, murderer, or are you trying to exact some revenge?” It was an odd question. He responded quickly making his voice deeper.“ Give me your money, and any expensive stuff you have on you.” The man chuckled softly “ So you are a child, were you following me too stake me out? Muggers usually don’t do that, more of an opportunity kind of criminal. “ the boys eyes squinted trying too see anymore detail. He stepped back knife still pointed at him. “Turn around and hand over your money.” He did as he was told, the man turned and then in a flash, the blade was ripped from his hands, and his arm was jarred backwards and painfully pushed into his back. He let out a loud grunt as tears sprung to his eyes. He stomped on the man’s foot which gave him a small window and yanked his hand free. He grabbed the chain to the watch which was almost completely tucked into his jacket and took off for the darkness. A Strong hand grabbed his shoulder and shoved him down to the ground. He handn’t made it far, he curled and tried to hide the watch.

The man reached back and slapped him so hard he thought he had broken his jaw he sprawled out then intending to try to escape. He kept on him smacking him, he crawled to his knees and was pushed over by a kick to the ribs. He curled up groaning, his side hurt. “ You know I should cut your hand off, thats what should happen. But.. you’ve shown some initiative.” The boy tried to scurry away, the man’s booted foot pressed firmly down on his back. The next thing he could remember was his mouth bouncing off of the pavement, his teeth rattling in his skull. It went dark.

When he woke up, his mouth was screaming, it was painful. The carriage bounced slightly as they slowly trotted down the road. He must’ve been asleep for at least the night because the sun had started to climb high into the sky. He could feel irons wrapped around his ankles and hands, he looked around and found the man, sitting in the corner reading a book, his form eloquent. The man had neatly trimmed hair and wore an expensive suit, or what he assumed was expensive. When he sat up the irons clanged loudly which disturbed the man. “Good morning. I hope you don’t mind, but before you passed out I was going to make you an offer. It seems that you have no choice now. I want you to train under me. With some experience you could become a great assassin, you have that look in your eye. The one where you would fight to survive no matter the cost. You’re like a dull blade lethal, but not up to your true potential. I’ll bring you there.” He looked on in silence the shackles binding his wrists and feet still. The ride was bumpy and by the way things felt he would be stuck in this carriage for awhile.

[Vanari]

Placeholder--Grading In Progress!

(Issues with CS and Ledger pending)