The hardest part about leaving prison is adjusting to life outside of behind bars. Usually there's been enough events that took place you feel out of place wherever you end up (most long term prisons are not in the same town where the offenses took place, like I was subdued out near Dorianna, I wound up in Rosetia almost a thousand miles away, trust me I felt the distance traveled, prison wagons are a royal bitch especially for the distance covered). I went in during a war, I got out during an unsteady peace. To the far south the Ronerawth empire aided by the Red Hand were constructing the divider (it would be completed some fifty years later, in case you were wondering why the Red Hand would help, well the people they sent to help were criminals, and the last part to be constructed was on the Ronerawth side) Rosetia was a trade town, a lot of hustling and bustling, not on the coastal water, but near a river, and later on in its life a major train station depot (trains were the greatest advancement of our age currently, they are beautiful machines).
I believe the town originally grew up near the prison (which made sense with its location near a river for easy prisoner transport, and a town just grew around this), and then developed around the prison to the extent the prison is now apart of the city. What extra conflict comes from the just released is mitigated from all the basically free slave labor the prison supplies and then getting to hire these workers on full time after they are released (I was not involved in the work programs, something about a bad attitude). My first couple weeks out of prison were spent sleeping on the streets at night and doing odd menial labor jobs during the day. Honestly at first I thought Valyra or Morley would find me and whisk me away back into the ranks of necromancy (for my first few years of prison life I thought the same, it was a happy fantasy that either of those two cared enough to find me), but as the days wound on and I made small coin enough to get a local inn room I started to feel at home, at peace. Sure working the docks, or helping to unload trade carts was hard work on my hands and back, but it was honest work and I didn't have to murder people to do it (a serious plus) also with the coin I was able to put away I started to look into silks and other clothing again intending on trying my hand at clothing (this partly stemmed from growing tired of my crappy prison clothes and too cheap to buy someone else's wears). I'd sewed before, Sal had shown me some stuff and I'd taken it from there, but five years out of practice lead to a lot of stabbed fingers and invented cursing (the local inn keeper actually inquired if I was ok after I screamed for a minute straight after sewing my finger to a piece of cloth). It took some wasted effort, but eventually I had a very nice robe and under shirt to wear when I wasn't slaving away on the docks (for that I used one of my sewing failures of a plain sleeveless shirt and a pair of coarse fabric pants that were ugly sewn, but very functional).
I think deep down I knew I wouldn't be a dock worker for long. I mean I enjoyed the work, but when you have knowledge of necromantic arts and can conjure flame with your hands, its just a matter of time before you have to use these skills once again. I do have to say I was proud of myself that I didn't even buy a sword, I guess I was trying to live on the straight and narrow even if I didn't think I would be able to. It was in this mindset I was wandering the streets looking for something (I honestly can not recall what it was at the time) and I bumped into a shorty, or what I thought was a shorty. He came up to about my waist, with thick muscled arms and stout leg. He was missing most of his hair on top, but had a long black braid on the back part (not from style he had clearly lost the first part due to time), facial hair was the long braided type, like shaving was against his religion (which funnily enough it sort of was in a weird way). I muttered I'm sorry and was about to move on when I felt a heavy hand holding my arm in a vice grip, I prepared for a fight when I saw his eyes, they had gone completely brown (like no black part or regular color just brown).
"I said I'm sorry." I tried in vain to release his grip, but it held steady.
"Necromancer," There was a sneer with the word, I could see his teeth briefly, they all looked impeccably white, "You are the one I seek."
"Whoa you got the wrong guy, I'm just a dock worker." I almost wanted to call for help, but him calling me out for being a necromancer would mean I'd probably end up in the gallows. I felt like an animal with my foot caught in a trap.
His eyes returned to normal, but the grip did not lessen. "Come with me or I'll scream your crimes for all of these people to know." So I wasn't the only one who knew that necromancy even then was not tolerated (I swear its hard being someone who takes life to propogate their own!) I wanted to fight back, or do something, maybe use fire or even necromancy, his grip and creepy eye thing kept me from fighting back. I followed him like the reverse of a parent (that being the smaller of the two lead me around by the arm). We eventually arrived at a dug in tavern establishment that was thankfully empty. There were five steps to enter and the door was shorter than I expected leading to a nice bang as I failed to duck under it. My keeper did not wait for me to recover but drug me inside shut the door and locked it under a heavy bolt.
"Look ok things were, ok not the greatest and I made some bad decisions." Pleading for my life, I do this often.
"I care not for the lesser you killed necromancer, I do care that you are one of her disciples." The tavern was fairly dark (no windows tends to do that no matter the time of day), there was a shorter than average bar to the left, some booths to the right and open tables in the middle, no one was inside. Directly opposite me was a roaring fireplace that seemed to take up the entire wall, it provided the only light in the place. My shorty companion went behind the bar and started withdrawing weaponry, a large hammer was the most prominent, it looked impossible for me to ever lift but he did so with ease.
"Valrya? I have no idea where she is." I mean I sort of remembered the location of the cave with regards to Dorianna, but that was five years ago, and I didn't even know where I currently was (I'm terrible with directions).
"Oh I know that, I know all about you Lorentino."
"You were looking for me?"
"Not you specifically but I knew she would spread her filth and find others like herself, I guess I'm lucky the one I found is not experienced and cast aside for the most part."
"What the hell are you? You look like a shorty."
"I wasn't always, and Valyra is to blame for that, I used to be a demigod, one of a proud earthen religion, until that bitch murdered my followers and used their lives in a blood ritual to kill the rest, now look at me, I run a bar swarming with idiots, I SHOULD BE A GOD LORENTINO!" His words shook the establishment lik an earthquake.
"So I take you're angry." I'm subtle real subtle. "I mean I get the anger, but I don't know what I can do to find her? Its not like we're on speaking terms." He calmed down from his speech, still placing weapons up on the bar.
"Oh she'll find you, you've got her taint on you, I felt it when you bumped into me, what we need to do is bait the trap," He had a vile of something on the counter now, next to the hammer, a sword that glowed a weird blue, and dagger, "Now I'm going to need you to do something for me..."
What will I have to do? What happens next? Who is this man? Uhh I'll write about that tomorrow I've been long winded enough.
No comments:
Post a Comment