Thread: Bronze age: Killer and a Wolf |Lagertha x DaL|

Everyone runs from their nightmares. The howling abysses that lay deep inside each person are constant reminders of the disguises they wear when walking down the streets or working in the fields. Most do what they can to hide from it, to never have to stand their ground and face it. Happy little lies they tell themselves over and over until they've become convinced by them. Lies are a helpful tool to have when needing to survive. Perhaps it best for that pathetic race to live in their fairy tale world in sheer obliviousness until death came knocking for them. They can tell themselves whatever they want, do whatever they want. No one or thing has truly been their masters. Funny thing though, reality is free to do the same thing. And more often than not it doesn't give a damn about what other people think. Be they the lowest beggar to the mightiest kings, the only reason why their false truths wouldnt come crashing down around them is because reality has let them stay. For the time being. Not that there never was a sliver of hope for them. Some who have learn to accept truth and embrace it have found what some might call peace within themselves. Are they devoid of suffering and death? Of course not. Are they content with themselves? As much as they could be. But to do so required bringing everything they knew into question, about the world, about themselves. Most never had the nerve to do so. Or they simply chose not to. And then theres though that think they have. Fools whove tried to rush for the answers. They will naturally get the rudest awakening of them all, when reality finally caves in on them. Question being will they survive long enough to learn. Some like the worn out man living alone deep within the woods have come to realize all of this. His life had been dominated by the ways of his family which have run in their veins for years unknown even by their most shriveled up elders. Much like the rest of them, he thought he lived a noble life. It was impossible to think otherwise, with so little contact outside his family during his childhood. Their work had gain them the favor of powerful figures in society. Kings loved their discipline and prowess in a fight, as well as the civil control they were able to keep within any city they lived in. Temple priests praised them for their dedication to the values and ways of their gods. Anyone that benefited from their work would often shower them with gifts, making their family one of the wealthiest in all the lands. Best of all though was their discreetness. The common folk would know of them for their warriors and guards, their diplomats and their magic. They were seen as practically royal in blood, you would never hear anything else from anyone. If they tried to, they would instantly find themselves with horrible accusations like blasphemy, murder, or treason. So, if they were to employ someone of the likes of Eik, they wouldnt have a reason for a second thought. After all, in their minds they are just getting rid of another rowdy peasant that seeks to disrupt the natural order of things. If only she knew how deep her assignment went. If only she wasnt like most people and knew just what other sort of things the family have done. The man that she was set against was nothing more than a mindless killer himself back in the day. He too didnt question anything about what they were doing. It was after all for the greater good. The price was well worth paying for. And he was exceptional at the family craft. His tracking ability to hunt down wanted criminals was unmatched. Constant extrusions out into the wilderness with his father and brother hardened him for the tasks up ahead. At the age of fifteen he joined the city patrol as most in his family did at that age. Officially it was part of their training, to gain the experience they would need for the hardships up ahead. In reality, it was to harden their hearts. As a patrol guard he would get to wander the lowliest parts of the city, where the filth and decrypted reside. He would get to see humanity at its worst, its ugliest so that when the time came he would have no problem executing his orders. That first time came at seventeen years of age. A murder had occurred in one of the nearby farms. He alone was set out to hunt down and slay the bastard responsible. It was his final test before being fully accepted into the inner circle of his family. Tracking down the person involved wasnt difficult in the slightest. The fool hardly traveled far from the site of the murder. Night was creeping down over them as he closed in with knotted arrow in hand, ready to fire. The tip shimmered in the dying light as something silvery and wet dripped from the tip. He would have only one shot at it. Only one person was going to walk away, and itll depend solely on if his shot hit or missed. The cries and growls of pain lasted nearly a minute before the target fell to his side, arrow in his back. The young man took pride in his first kill. Another blow from justice. His family and his king will be proud of him when he returned with the head. Hands were shaking as he slowly approached the corpse with hatchet in hand. Another perk of working on the city patrol was that you would get used to the sight of the dead on the streets before they were hauled off and dumped into the river. So he would have no qualm with the gruesome task ahead. And then a cry was heard. A whimper really. Something small. Something right up ahead coming from the corpse. He froze, confused. Slowly his feet took him the rest of the way. What he would find would be the image that would forever haunt his dreams at night and refuse to ever give him peace so long as he was alive. A child. A little girl no more than three or four, sobbing over her dead father. Food laid scattered across the ground. Food that he was stealing from the farm to help support his child. The farmer the night before caught him, and unable to run he was forced to defend himself. Even in his malformed shape, as the not quite human father had tried to shift before the quicksilver took ahold in his veins, it was clear he was near starvation. All his stealing was going towards his little daughter. For years he tried to brush the image out of his mind. He was constantly reminded that these people dont have souls and thus shouldnt be mourned. Why else would he just leave the child there as he yanked her fathers corpse away to have beheaded? They were monsters. All of them. But the nightmares were only getting worse. The worn out man standing before Eik was only about to turn 28 in another month, but the memory had aged him greatly. He continued his work, trying to stamp out the image from his mind. All that did though was add the faces of those he had killed into the nightmares. His family had been taking notice of what was happening with him and tried all sorts of remedies to make him forget, but he continued to get sick. Then all of that came to a breaking point. A family of those monsters was tracked down. His father took him along to have them slain while they were at their weakest. Right after a major hunt for them, during the wee morning. A mother, two sisters, and a young brother still not quite old enough to fight were their targets. With the physically exhaustion they were still recouping from, they were no match. The mother gave the best she could, but his father knocked her back down without much effort. All that was needed was to get the deed over with, make the scene look like a bandit raid, and get out. No problem at all. And there they were again. The faces of those he had killed during his youth. The little girl crying out in agony over her father, they are were there in his vision as his father rose up the blade. Their faces of horror matching that of the ghost floating behind them. Sweat and tears rolled down his face under the helmet. His body stood their frozen. His father didnt even notice in the frenzy of the kill. His whole life flashed before his eyes as time seemed to slow down around them. He didnt think. He just did. His father didnt even live long enough to know what happened. All he could do was look down to the red blade sticking out from his chest right below the collarbone. Blood gurgled out from his mouth as he failed to utter words. And his body fell to the ground, sword clanged as it fell beside him, and then silence. A sickening feeling rushed threw him, his sight blurred, his stomach turned and threw out its context from his mouth before he fainted and fell limp on the ground as well. His memory of what happened next was a blur. He had to be explained to that after his betrayal he was taken by the family to safety, where he was treated and protected. The next year felt like a dream, still so dazed over what he had done he walked as if he too had died back in the house. It could be argued though that he did indeed die back there. Officially, they were both killed by professionals in retaliation against their family. They didnt want word to get out that one of their own had committed treason against the kingdom. So his name was scraped from history. Lord Kischiin Roghadclan was no more. In his place, and walking dead that now lived to regain his honor. To gain true honor. To dedicate his life towards repenting for the wrongs hes done and protecting what he saw now were the true innocent from the true monsters. And with a new life came a new name. One gifted to him for his deeds. Anvet. That who seeks redemption. The training he went through that will grant him his new life was intense, even more so than what he had gone through before. He might have been one of the lucky ones, and his previous training prepared him for the physical hardships he would have with his new family. It was the mental hardships he wasnt expecting. It was amazing just how important having a high mind was to their way of living, even among the grunts. They had to. It was the only thing that kept them under control. He had been doing quite well, doing what he could to rescue and protect those of his new kind. They even said he might soon be truly accepted with their ranks. He knew what that would mean, but he was willing to accept it. Even after everything hed done to them, they still forgave him in the end. Such behavior was rare within human society. These peoples rules and ways were quite harsh at times, again probably even more so than with humans. But they were always fair. Despite their outward appearance, they were surprisingly civil at times. Yes, he would be honored to finally become one of them. Off elsewhere in the woods that night, three figures covered in ragged cloaks walked among the trees. They were on a scouting mission to help chart out new territory for their tribes. The journey had been long for them and they seek shelter from the rain. Its not that they could get sick from it, they just wanted to have a roof over their heads after so long. They knew of the safehouse that Anvet had been running for the past couple years, it would only take them off their path a little bit. The first one up ahead peered up, black straggling beard caught drops of rain as his beady eyes peered out to the house in the distance. A figure was seen nearby walking along but he paid no mind to it. Waving a hand to the others, they crept up towards the house. Another one, a woman with short blonde hair and pale eyes, clenched her shoulders with crossed arms as she looked up towards the sky. The glow of the full moon blazed across her face. We really should get inside sooner than later. Her hushed voice singed out over the rain. I dont think I can keep it in much longer. The walk has been taxing on us, yes. The old one up in front spoke out. I hope our human friend can deal with the three of us inside his small little shack he has going there. The last one spoke up. I know him personally. He would take in a dozen of us during a full moon if he had to, and find a way to make it work. You cant find a more dedicated human. A younger but still aged man, with an amber tan and deep blue eyes, he would definitely be the most good looking of the lot among humans. That is until he would show them his true face. Especially since the alpha has plans to have him turned soon. The woman jokingly retorted. They were very quiet getting inside. Door was unlocked, as if they were expected Something wasnt right. Water already on the floor, and there was a strange smell in the house. The oldest one clenched his fist in the air to tell the others to stay quiet and they sneaked forward. They rounded the corner. And there she was, a stranger in the house, leaning down and grabbing the carpet which Anvet stood on. Their eyes flashed in bright glow as they jumped into action. Anvet! A throwing knife clang to the floor right next to Eik, thrown by one of the travelers. The other two closed in from either side as Anvet spun around. Hand reached for the knife he was cooking with and muscle memory kicked in before his brain had, preparing to defend himself.