66th day of Winter, 517 AV
Jakan of the Sunstrider Pavillion found he couldn’t stop staring at his wrists…
It was such a strange thing, to be fixated on something so mundane and insignificant, yet for the life of him the huntsman could not tear his gaze away. It was the just the manner to which the angry red discoloring clashed against the dark tones of his skin, or how the bulbous blisters stung bitterly when he instinctively tried to rub them. All these little things and more absorbed his thoughts completely, and truth be told, he knew exactly why.
It was because thought he’d never see them again.
From Riverfall to Kenash, Sunberth to Nyka, and every horrible place in between, his hands had been endlessly bound, locked away in the iron dregs that marked him as little more than ‘property’ for longer than he cared to remember. Over the course of the hundreds of miles they'd traversed, never once were his shackles loosened, let alone the crushing weight of chains lessened. They had kept him bound and under lock for so long, he’d forgotten what the flesh beneath the steel even felt like. Rubbed rough and numb over the months of grueling travel and treatment by his handlers, they had become as alien to Jakan as the strange cities they’d traveled through to get here… wherever ‘here’ was.
It had been so many moons since they’d taken him from the plains, ripping the once proud hunter from the arms of his wife and children, his house and home. He'd been separated from everything he'd known and loved, only to be carried halfway across the world on the greedy whims of... They weren't men. They weren't even animals. They were something worse.
Slavers.
The thought of them alone incited a fire within his belly that never seemed to smolder for very long. They had stolen so much from him it was hard to even conceive of anything left their evil kind hadn’t corrupted with their vile and ruinous touch. Yet when the chains had been broken, and the flesh beneath revealed for the first time in so very… very long… It was like looking at a piece of him they had never managed to get to. A part of him that was still back in Endrykas, with his clan and kin, preserved by the rust and the sweat and the pain. That was why he stared, strange as it was, and why he allowed himself to continue his odd revelry right up until the sound of a branch snapping beneath him silenced the thick northern woods into a hushed whisper.
They had come.
Just as their savior had said they would.
When the stranger had arrived, he did so with thunder in hands and fury in his heart. At first they’d thought him a beast of the wilds, cloaked in midnight black fur and a sinister air that was as thick and palpable as the insects that plagued the winter skies. It had started with a whistle, a simple sound that had sent the horses dragging their prisoner carriages absolutely mad with fear. They bucked and bawled, screaming in some unspoken terror that seemingly only they could sense. The guards had thought them crazed with horror at the sight of the black blur of fangs and fur darting between the trees in the distance, but Jakan knew horses, grown up and lived with them all his life. What he saw in their eyes as they pranced and shattered the yokes that bound them was a panic unlike anything he’d ever seen before. It was wholly unnatural in the way it had robbed their minds of their sense and self. He wasn’t surprised when they eventually freed themselves from the confused and riotus cabal of slavers trying to reign them under control. He was taken back however, when the beast had set upon the guards next, ripping through them with such a ferocity and strength he was scarce to believe it when he finally realized it was no animal committing all this carnage upon their kidnappers, but instead a man disguised as one. When he was done, the slavers lay broken, but still alive at his feet. He hadn’t killed them with his ungodly strength, but neither had he stopped the slaves he freed from taking their revenge either.
Jakan had to cry out to halt his fellows -some of them Sunstriders just like him- from killing the men outright. Their savagery was just, but to condemn themselves to it would have spelled the doom for all them if they were to become just like their tormentors. To his surprise, they had stopped to listen, and the stranger had noticed too. That was when his shackles had been broken and his wrists were freed. Never would he forget the moment, nor the hero who had saved him.
Eventually they decided to lock the slavers away in the same cages their human cargo had been hauled in all this time. A poetic justice, and one that should have ended then and there. Many wanted to scatter and flee, to find refuge wherever they could, as long as it was far away from this dreaded Ravok they all spoke of. Yet, the stranger spoke to them, to Jakan mostly, and the hunter had found his words eerily haunting, yet desperately true. "They will come for you" he had claimed, his face painted in mud and dirt to hide his features beneath the wolf's head adorned atop his own, "they will come for you, and they will never stop... unless you stop them first, here and now."
The words had wormed their way into his thoughts, there was no other way to put it. He did not distrust them, but nor did they feel altogether right. None the less, he had eagerly accepted the bow and arrows the stranger had offered, and the other freed slaves had done the same, taking up the weapons of their captors once used to keep them fettered and fearful. Part of him still screamed to run while he still could, to abandon this madness and dash off into the wilderness, but it was far too late now. What had the stranger called them? Lurks? Larks? Whoever they were, they were upon them now, and any chance they had at escape was long gone.
Five men, clad in mail and leather and all the bad intentions Jakan had grown accustomed to seeing in his captors came prowling through the clearing. These men were the same as the ones that had held them in captivity, and they even bore the same insignia upon their breasts to help distinguish them as such. How convenient, Jakan thought, those strange black markings would prove a useful target to center their shots on. At their head, or rather, at their heart, walked a woman who seemed far apart from the others, yet still very much the center of it all. The one in charge, Jakan mused as he glared down at her distant beauty. She had come searching for her missing men no doubt, not to mention all the precious cargo they'd lost track of to boot. Well, all she would find here was woe and misery. A fitting punishment for one so wicked. He had no doubt she'd pay for her crime, not when their savior had promised to join them in their struggle. The nameless man had disappeared earlier however, reclaimed by the forest and shadows that had birthed him, but Jakan had faith he would return. He would not free them and risk so much unless he had a plan.
The Drykas could hear the sound of weapons being readied and bowstrings being pulled taught nearby as his brothers prepared to spring their trap. Soon enough, his own arrow had been knocked and readied. The string quivered next to his cheek with an unbearable intensity, ready and eager, yet even now Jakan's thoughts wondered to his wrists.
Never again would they bind them, he promised.
Never again would they take him.
With that silent vow, he let loose the first shot and prayed to the gods they would forgive him.
Jakan of the Sunstrider Pavillion found he couldn’t stop staring at his wrists…
It was such a strange thing, to be fixated on something so mundane and insignificant, yet for the life of him the huntsman could not tear his gaze away. It was the just the manner to which the angry red discoloring clashed against the dark tones of his skin, or how the bulbous blisters stung bitterly when he instinctively tried to rub them. All these little things and more absorbed his thoughts completely, and truth be told, he knew exactly why.
It was because thought he’d never see them again.
From Riverfall to Kenash, Sunberth to Nyka, and every horrible place in between, his hands had been endlessly bound, locked away in the iron dregs that marked him as little more than ‘property’ for longer than he cared to remember. Over the course of the hundreds of miles they'd traversed, never once were his shackles loosened, let alone the crushing weight of chains lessened. They had kept him bound and under lock for so long, he’d forgotten what the flesh beneath the steel even felt like. Rubbed rough and numb over the months of grueling travel and treatment by his handlers, they had become as alien to Jakan as the strange cities they’d traveled through to get here… wherever ‘here’ was.
It had been so many moons since they’d taken him from the plains, ripping the once proud hunter from the arms of his wife and children, his house and home. He'd been separated from everything he'd known and loved, only to be carried halfway across the world on the greedy whims of... They weren't men. They weren't even animals. They were something worse.
Slavers.
The thought of them alone incited a fire within his belly that never seemed to smolder for very long. They had stolen so much from him it was hard to even conceive of anything left their evil kind hadn’t corrupted with their vile and ruinous touch. Yet when the chains had been broken, and the flesh beneath revealed for the first time in so very… very long… It was like looking at a piece of him they had never managed to get to. A part of him that was still back in Endrykas, with his clan and kin, preserved by the rust and the sweat and the pain. That was why he stared, strange as it was, and why he allowed himself to continue his odd revelry right up until the sound of a branch snapping beneath him silenced the thick northern woods into a hushed whisper.
They had come.
Just as their savior had said they would.
When the stranger had arrived, he did so with thunder in hands and fury in his heart. At first they’d thought him a beast of the wilds, cloaked in midnight black fur and a sinister air that was as thick and palpable as the insects that plagued the winter skies. It had started with a whistle, a simple sound that had sent the horses dragging their prisoner carriages absolutely mad with fear. They bucked and bawled, screaming in some unspoken terror that seemingly only they could sense. The guards had thought them crazed with horror at the sight of the black blur of fangs and fur darting between the trees in the distance, but Jakan knew horses, grown up and lived with them all his life. What he saw in their eyes as they pranced and shattered the yokes that bound them was a panic unlike anything he’d ever seen before. It was wholly unnatural in the way it had robbed their minds of their sense and self. He wasn’t surprised when they eventually freed themselves from the confused and riotus cabal of slavers trying to reign them under control. He was taken back however, when the beast had set upon the guards next, ripping through them with such a ferocity and strength he was scarce to believe it when he finally realized it was no animal committing all this carnage upon their kidnappers, but instead a man disguised as one. When he was done, the slavers lay broken, but still alive at his feet. He hadn’t killed them with his ungodly strength, but neither had he stopped the slaves he freed from taking their revenge either.
Jakan had to cry out to halt his fellows -some of them Sunstriders just like him- from killing the men outright. Their savagery was just, but to condemn themselves to it would have spelled the doom for all them if they were to become just like their tormentors. To his surprise, they had stopped to listen, and the stranger had noticed too. That was when his shackles had been broken and his wrists were freed. Never would he forget the moment, nor the hero who had saved him.
Eventually they decided to lock the slavers away in the same cages their human cargo had been hauled in all this time. A poetic justice, and one that should have ended then and there. Many wanted to scatter and flee, to find refuge wherever they could, as long as it was far away from this dreaded Ravok they all spoke of. Yet, the stranger spoke to them, to Jakan mostly, and the hunter had found his words eerily haunting, yet desperately true. "They will come for you" he had claimed, his face painted in mud and dirt to hide his features beneath the wolf's head adorned atop his own, "they will come for you, and they will never stop... unless you stop them first, here and now."
The words had wormed their way into his thoughts, there was no other way to put it. He did not distrust them, but nor did they feel altogether right. None the less, he had eagerly accepted the bow and arrows the stranger had offered, and the other freed slaves had done the same, taking up the weapons of their captors once used to keep them fettered and fearful. Part of him still screamed to run while he still could, to abandon this madness and dash off into the wilderness, but it was far too late now. What had the stranger called them? Lurks? Larks? Whoever they were, they were upon them now, and any chance they had at escape was long gone.
Five men, clad in mail and leather and all the bad intentions Jakan had grown accustomed to seeing in his captors came prowling through the clearing. These men were the same as the ones that had held them in captivity, and they even bore the same insignia upon their breasts to help distinguish them as such. How convenient, Jakan thought, those strange black markings would prove a useful target to center their shots on. At their head, or rather, at their heart, walked a woman who seemed far apart from the others, yet still very much the center of it all. The one in charge, Jakan mused as he glared down at her distant beauty. She had come searching for her missing men no doubt, not to mention all the precious cargo they'd lost track of to boot. Well, all she would find here was woe and misery. A fitting punishment for one so wicked. He had no doubt she'd pay for her crime, not when their savior had promised to join them in their struggle. The nameless man had disappeared earlier however, reclaimed by the forest and shadows that had birthed him, but Jakan had faith he would return. He would not free them and risk so much unless he had a plan.
The Drykas could hear the sound of weapons being readied and bowstrings being pulled taught nearby as his brothers prepared to spring their trap. Soon enough, his own arrow had been knocked and readied. The string quivered next to his cheek with an unbearable intensity, ready and eager, yet even now Jakan's thoughts wondered to his wrists.
Never again would they bind them, he promised.
Never again would they take him.
With that silent vow, he let loose the first shot and prayed to the gods they would forgive him.
