LynLyn was scared.
Her heart seemed to be pushing itself into her head, her mouth dry, and her scream was choking her within her throat. She had managed to get to her hands and knees while her toy had aided her slow crawl behind the wagon. Her fear was only increased when she noticed how far she was being left behind. Reflexively, her head darted backward to spot the fire, now gathered about the ropes, start to eat the other restrains she didn’t have the strength to affect. In minutes she would plummet to her death. At thought of the landing her head looked down, clearly against her toy’s wishes because it pretty much leapt in the middle of her vision. It used its fuzzy body to block the image of the rapidly rushing current, the rocks farther along, and the fact she wouldn’t survive very long. The fall itself would’ve been enough to kill her.
Lyn felt herself tremble horribly. Her fingers balled into fist while she tried to hurry herself along, a pointless task, and the toy helped the best it could. It wouldn’t matter she knew, somehow deep inside, it wouldn’t. She was going to die. The sound of that filled her with dread that it seemed to consume her mind. It numbed, her brain unable to think clearly or note her surroundings which was she jumped when Meirin scooped her up within her arms. Her toy had hitched a ride by leaping onto Lyn’s arm, close enough the child instinctively cling to it, namely for comfort.
Closer, closer their figures drew to the bridge in a race against the flames licking up the posts and eating the fire. Lyn’s eyes looked over Meirin’s shoulder just in time to see the last of the ropes give away. As if in slow motion, the ropes fell followed by a ripple within the planks behind them and rushed toward their retreating wake. It seemed determined to catch them up within its downward decent.
Lyn’s grip tightened, which might’ve warned Meirin or the woman extremely alert, giving a slight broken whimper. As luck would’ve had it, her grip’s strength fell short of Meirin’s next effort. Without warning Lyn felt herself ripped away and thrown toward the solid ground, clearing the gap by several feet. Naturally her eyes looked backwards with terror and sadness, increased by the realization she might’ve killed her savior with her foolishness. Like a rag doll she flew at the dirt and she half expected to feel the familiar scrap and skinning fraction would’ve had given her on landing. Instead, she felt a warm body soften her fall. A grunt of pain and effort pushed out from her aunt’s lungs while both Lyn and her crumbled to the ground. Alaira’s arms were wrapped around her, protecting her not only from her trembling but any injury on landing. Lyn had barely heard Ssarak to holler to the others to protect her when he dived for Meirin.
Right now everything was in a haze, her body shaking uncontrollable and her eyes stared off to the side. She couldn’t stop. Even if she wanted to or realize she was safe, her mind kept repeating the same guilt ridden thing over and over: She just gotten someone killed. So when Alaira, broken and bleeding slightly, finally caught her breath long enough to ask a question, Lyn’s barely held together emotions burst out. Tears soaked her cheeks quickly while she whimpered, her face buried into the half elf’s shoulder. Her body violently shook even when she held within Alaira’s arms, the gesture barely comforting her. Instead it felt like the world had fell away and she was responsible for it all. Her body started to curl, guilt ridden and unable to move beyond her chest’s heaving that seemed like it would give out.
She killed the woman, someone who saved her! Lyn couldn’t stop the sobs which escaped through her mouth until her lungs burned, and still she continued until it felt like her tears were dried up. Likely when Ssarak and Meirin returned they would find Lyn still clearly upset over the event which had happened. It was bad enough she hadn’t noticed Aunt Alaira coughing up blood, the red flecks soaked within the ground or their return. Ssarak, if his psychomancy was still in tune, would be washed over by Lyn’s emotions immediately. The feeling a mixture of pain, sadness, and most dominate…guilt.
If he edged deeper, which wasn’t hard due to Lyn’s wards completely down, then word would begin to be attached to the emotions.
I didn’t mean to kill her. I didn’t mean… she should’ve left me on the bridge, not die. No… A Little Roc SurpriseMemories of a Skeleton's LifeMany, many years ago for Arcadius:
The moment Arcadius had so long ago touched the cane, it activated. It glowed a sickly green lighting up what was within his small prison, the door stuck fast with runes and ancient writings long forgotten, a dim and brief escape from the darkness. However, in a moment, pain beyond measure, at least one his mortal mind could measure, ripped his body apart. Skin and muscle unraveled like thread on a spindle leaving nothing but clean bone behind and a slight glow which soon faded back into darkness. The last words he would hear before his long isolation were a sweet, gentle chuckling child’s voice. Duuri’s, clearly ignorant that her ‘gift’ had both blessed and cursed Arcadius with a terrible immortality, she seemed to speak within his head with utter glee.
“Hey, you found one of my relics. I hope you enjoy my gift!”
Present TimeIn the distance beyond the small group was a wagon. Within the main part were things which ranged from College supplies to food goods, and other materials to sell when the merchant arrived. Including a rune covered coffin. Despite its age and burial underground inside a tomb near Yarsomere a few months back, it seemed as pristine as when it was first created. A odd quality the merchant thought a certain vampire teacher within the Twilight College might be interested in purchasing.
Within the coffin, Arcadius could’ve likely felt the whole journey. From his recovery within the tomb, to the excavation, and seemingly endless wagon exchanges but any attempts to gain attention through either shouts or bangs were foiled by the soundless runes placed on the outside. No one would’ve realized he was inside despite any efforts on his part, if any. So, in the end all Arcadius could do was settled in for the long trip. Though he would feel a sudden jerk when the wagon came to an abrupt stop. His bones likely banged against the coffin as he heard muffled curses and anger towards one ‘stubborn ass’ which was the cause of their abrupt and uncomfortable stop.
Naturally what the skeleton within the coffin had felt was the owner struggling with his mule. The beast had stopped its movement and fixed itself to the spot with no willingness to cooperate beyond trying to nip him. Again the merchant cursed. Its braying was easily heard by the party if they chose to quiet down, namely cause there was nothing else to complete with it, while he cursed the beast’s very living existence. Again and again he tugged the animal’s reins only to fail. In frustration he tossed up his arms in defeat and turned, spotting the small group. He nearly jumped out of his skin at that point. His instinctive response was that they were bandits and once more renewed his rein tugging to the road side, the mule unwilling to budge. Instead it seemed to panic. Its nostrils flared and head jerked side to side, its hooves raised then stomped. The flanks tried to struggle out of the restraints which were highly felt by Arcadius’s coffin, not being secured other than a single strap and slammed against the sides repeatedly. Luckily none where painful enough to shatter any bones.
It seemed the mule’s reaction was contagious. In moments, the wind shifted, all the pack animals started to steer away. The mage’s horses whinnied in fear and jerked, their head broke free of any restraints which held them. Their eyes started to roll while saliva spittle from their muzzles when they bolted back towards the College causing their guide to curse and attempt to rein in his own animal. Any attempted not to retrieve them would result in a loss of their rides and other goods attached to them.
Meanwhile, the ballista send was also in deep trouble. The two draft horse used to haul it had showed the same wildness and had tried to rip themselves free from the straps. The largest draft horse, one nicknamed Samson, had been smart enough to start to nip at the leather. With his large teeth it took no time to fray it until a loud snap could be heard and both horses were off. Unless at least one was caught then likely the weapon wasn’t going anywhere any time soon. It would only take moments for the smaller draft horse to head in the College’s direction. However Samson would stick about for a little longer before he too would be gone into the nearest wooded area.
Distracted by the animal’s reaction, no one might’ve noticed the very cause of it. A large shadow darkened over the merchant’s wagon causing the man to look up in awe and fear. The she
Roc had come into view. She tilted her wings upright and reached her bluish claws out, fixed to tear the man into pieces when he screamed a blood curling one. A piercing shriek was followed in her victory while she trapped the man within her talons. Her narrow head lowered then started to rip the flesh off her small morsel, the mule reared and bucked itself free knocking the wagon over in its attempt to escape. In the chaos, Arcadius’s coffin was tossed which cracked a rune and opened the lid.
Now he was exposed and venerable to being killed, but luckily the Roc was too distracted with her meal to notice him. At least yet…