[center][h1][b][u]Carn[/u][/b][/h1][/center] [i]Twenty-one Years After Antiquity…[/i] [hr] For a thirteen year-old boy, life on his own had been hard. After his murder of the chieftain, the village of Morganstead had named him an outlaw. Stories began to spread of the white-haired purple-eyed boy who murdered a chieftain that had already given him a warm welcome, along with the village hospitality. No such welcome or hospitality had actually been given, but tales tended to become distorted after passing both distance and time. Before going into a village, he had often had to stain his hair with mud in order to avoid being recognized. Even then, the villagers did not know him, and he had no goods to trade with, so he was often required to steal in order to take what he wanted. Originally he possessed dreams of sneaking into the city of Ketrefa and somehow rescuing Brundt, but those dreams soon became forgotten. His own survival was more a pressing issue; and infiltrating a village or stealing food already posed a considerable challenge as it was. Even after he had travelled far enough south where he no longer risked being recognized, life only became marginally easier. Most took one look at his unscarred and uncalloused skin and assumed he was unfit for manual labour, and some villages or tribes rejected him outright simply because he was an outsider. He still had to steal to survive. Eventually, however, he was able to get his hands on a sword. It was a cheap thing, made out of copper - the sort of thing a guardsman from Thyma would carry as a sidearm to their spear - but it was serviceable enough, and he already knew how to use it. At the age of fifteen he entered a new line of work; one that wasn’t particularly more lucrative, but it held some semblance of legitimacy, so he no longer had to rely solely on thievery. He became a mercenary; acting as hired muscle for merchants. Sometimes this simply meant protecting shipments on the road, while in other cases he would be dispatched to “settle” a debt or property dispute. He disliked the work. The merchants carried themselves with an air of superiority, believing that their wealth and the fact that they didn’t have to perform back-breaking manual labour somehow made them superior to the rest. Many held no qualms in demonstrating these beliefs, and there were times when Carn wanted nothing more to spit in their face and walk away. But he needed the money. So, he worked. He played the part of the thug, the toady, the muscle, the brute. He played the part of the silent bodyguard, observing his various employers as they plied their own trade. He learned much about negotiating and the value of various goods. And if negotiations ever broke down, he would naturally be required to defend his employer - further honing his swordsmanship in the process. He had slain thieves, brigands, and sometimes even other mercenaries who merely had the misfortune of working for someone his own employer was in a feud with. He was nineteen years old now. Standing at six and a half feet in height, he towered over most Highlanders. His muscled physique and the fierce look in his eye made it easy for prospective employers to recognize his talent, despite his age. His handsome face remained unscarred and unblemished, for his regenerative abilities had never left him. He had upgraded beyond the cheap copper sword he found years ago, and now carried a longer bronze blade. He was no longer clad in the rags of an urchin and instead wore hard leather. Bolstering his arsenal was a round wooden shield, which was battered but still sturdy enough to serve its purpose. His latest employer was a rather interesting one. In the southwestern Highlands there was a great mountain, and in this mountain was a large amount of gold which happened to be exceedingly rare elsewhere. Unsurprisingly, a number of communities had sprung up with the intent of extracting this valuable resource. Unfortunately, the Highlands were divided by a river, and so these ores had to be ferried across on barges and boats. Naturally, additional communities had been built on the other side of the river, meant to receive these vessels and provide housing for the merchants and crew. There, these merchants sold the valuable ores to other merchants, who then brought them to more distant regions of the Highlands in the hopes of selling them for a greater profit. It was a merchant of the latter group that Carn was currently escorting. [hr] He had been between employers when he first caught the merchant’s attention, wandering through the market in search of food. “You there!” a voice had called out to him. Carn turned to see a round-bellied merchant in clean clothes and a green travelling coat. He stood near a cart, which other men were loading goods into. Carn decided to approach. “What is it?” he asked. “I’ve heard of you,” the merchant said. “Or at least, I think I have. Not many people have that colour of hair. Corn, was it? I’m Ruvar.” “Carn.” “Right. Carn. My mistake. Anyway, I’m taking these goods up to Ketrefa, and I could use another guard. I heard you’re reliable, so I’ll pay you well - in Ketrefan coin. Are you interested?” Carn had frowned at the mention of Ketrefa. He had seen the city’s walls before, but he had never gone inside. He hated to think of the place, for he could only imagine that Brundt was in there somewhere, forced to toil in some mine or to work some field. If he survived at all, of course. He heard slaves were often executed for even the most minor offenses, and even if they weren’t killed outright, then the beatings and the hard labour could result in their deaths anyway. He wanted nothing more than to see that wretched city in ash, but such a task was beyond his power. Then he pushed his hatred aside, and considered the offer further. The fact was, he needed the pay. He was between jobs, and Ketrefan coins were exceptionally valuable. Instead of a barter system, the Ketrefans had strange silver discs which could serve as a substitute for goods. Instead of exchanging one good for another, a man could simply hand over a fistful of silver and purchase what he pleased. The other great cities had such a system as well, but in the countryside most settlements lacked the resources or the means to produce similar currencies. And yet, these coins were still valuable even outside of their cities, for they were often made of rare metals, and they were always of use to someone who sought to trade with the more ‘civilized’ regions of the Highlands. “I’m in,” he finally said, though some part of him felt like he would regret it. “Excellent!” the merchant said, clapping his hands together. “Now would you help load the cart?” [hr] The cart was drawn by two quillats. The gold was kept in crates, in the form of raw ore, metal bars, and trinkets. There were a number of other handcrafted items as well, made from different materials. Lastly, there were also food and provisions; meant to serve as the group’s rations. Unfortunately, there was not enough space for Carn and the five other guards. So while Ruvar sat up front directing the quillats, Carn and his comrades had to follow on foot, with three on either side. Their only job was to appear vigilant, keep an eye out for potential attackers, and occasionally help with the wagon if it ever got stuck on the uneven dirt road. It turned out that three of the guards worked for Ruvar regularly, and a fourth was a freelancer by the name of Roan, who worked for Ruvar multiple times in the past. Meanwhile, Carn and the sixth guard - a woman by the name of Arika - had been hired at the last minute to make up their numbers. Apparently Ruvar had invested heavily in this, and was thus determined to see this shipment protected. Unsurprisingly, the four regular guards were slow to trust the two outsiders, but Ruvar himself remained jovial. Carn found himself liking Ruvar. Unlike many others of wealth and status, Ruvar didn’t view his underlings as furniture. He actively conversed with them on the journey, encouraged them when their energy was flagging, and allowed breaks when necessary. Small gestures like that went far. In the meantime, Carn stayed close to Arika. She was a few years older than him, with black hair, tanned skin, and brown eyes. The woman carried a bronze-tipped spear, and was armoured in a mixture of padded cloth and leather. She was more open to conversation than the four other guards, and more relatable than Ruvar, so her company was preferable. [hr] “I’ve never seen hair like that,” Arika commented on the second day of their journey. “I’m surprised it took you this long to mention it,” Carn replied. “How did you do it? Is it magic? Some sort of dye? Must have cost you a fortune…” “I was born with it,” Carn answered. “Where are you from, then?” “East,” he said dismissively. “But you’ll find no white-haired folk if you went that way. My father and my sisters were the only ones I’ve ever known to have hair like mine.” “And where are they now?” Arika asked, curious. “I’d rather not talk about it,” Carn told her. “Right… sorry,” Arika said. Most who took up the life of a wandering mercenary typically had no connections, which usually meant they either had no family, or were on poor terms with them. She should have known better than to ask such a question. Minutes passed, before she decided to try again. “You have quite the reputation, you know.” “I am aware,” Carn nodded, relieved that the conversation was moving on. “I suppose we’ll be swapping stories, then?” “If you’re willing to share,” she smirked. “Your name and face may be more known than mine, but I’ve been at this longer than you have. I bet you’ll run out of stories before I do.” “I think you’re right,” Carn conceded, before he offered her a smirk of his own. “Mine are more interesting, though.” “Maybe,” Arika said with a nod. “I hear no injury will stop you. That you can’t be killed. How’d you get a reputation like that?” “By not getting killed,” Carn smiled wryly. Ruvar chuckled, having overheard the conversation, but soon refocused his attention on the road. He squinted. “Hm… looks like a tree is blocking the road,” he observed. Carn looked ahead, and indeed, there was a tree blocking the road. His gaze followed the trunk, all the way to the stump. His eyes widened. The stump was smooth rather than jagged. “Stop!” he shouted. Ruvar complied, tugging the reins to pull the quillats to a halt. “What do you see?” he asked. Carn pointed ahead. “That tree did not fall. It was cut.” Ruvar’s eyes widened at the implication. “By the Five…” he whispered. “Weapons out!” Swords were unsheathed and spears were readied, as Carn, Arika, and three other guards stepped forward to form a line in front of the wagon. Five in total. Ruvar let out a shout, and Carn looked back to see Rorn seize him by the neck and haul him out of the cart, sending him falling to the ground. The traitorous guard then gave the quillat a sharp kick in the rear, causing it to panic and pull the cart forward… directly toward Carn and the others. They scattered, with Carn and Arika diving to one side, and the other three to the other. In the meantime, Roan hauled Ruvar to his feet and put a knife to his throat. Meanwhile, the cart carried on forward, toward the road block, until a flurry of arrows were loosed from the woods and slew the panicking beasts that dragged it along. “Don’t move,” Roan threatened, knife still at his employer’s throat, as thirteen bowmen emerged from the woods and began to approach. “Drop your weapons.” “You bastard,” one of the guards growled, but did not dare approach. “Drop your weapons,” Roan repeated, pointing the dagger at the man who spoke. “Or you will all-” The moment the dagger came away from his throat, Ruvar’s hand seized the wrist that held it, while his left hand reached down to his belt to pull out a knife of his own. The merchant was both stronger and quicker than he appeared, and with deceptively quick reflexes he thrust his knife backward into Roan’s gut. “Get back!” he shouted as Roan crumpled to the ground. The bandits let loose their arrows. Two of the guards fell to fatal wounds, while another caught an arrow in the shoulder. Carn, Arika, Ruvar, and the wounded guard ran for the treeline, taking shelter behind trees and rocks. “Stupid fool,” Arika snapped to the merchant. “They might have let us live if you hadn’t done that!” Ruvar winced at her words, suddenly regretting his attempt at heroism. “That bastard,” the wounded guard repeated, spitting on the ground. “He set us up.” “Can you still run and fight?” Carn asked the wounded man. The guard reached for the arrow on his shoulder, and pulled it free with a cry of pain. He offered Carn a pained nod. “What now?” Arika asked. “We run,” Carn decided. Ruvar opened his mouth to protest, but then thought better of it and nodded instead. “You’re right. It’ll ruin me... but enough people have died already.” “On three,” Carn said, and began counting before anyone could object. “One… two… three!” And then the four leapt into action, rising to their feet and dashing deeper into the woods. Arrows flew, but none found their mark, as the four ducked under branches and weaved between trees. Thankfully the bandits did not seem interested in pursuing. The goods had been abandoned, and their defenders were unlikely to return. So as Carn and the rest made their escape, the brigands helped themselves to the plunder. [hr] [hider=Post Summary] We found out what Carn has been up to ever since he stabbed that chieftain. He became a thief on the run, before eventually taking up mercenary work once he was old enough. Turns out he was quite good at it. Anyway, fast forward to 21 AA (After Antiquity), and Carn decides to take a new job: escorting a merchant by the name of Ruvar to Ketrefa. It’s an exceptionally valuable haul, so the merchant wanted some extra protection. He meets a woman named Arika who he builds up a decent rapport with. The caravan then gets ambushed, and one of the guards betrays them, attempting to take Ruvar hostage. Ruvar kills the traitor in a surprising display of badassery, but two guards are lost to the bandits’ arrows, while a third is wounded. Carn, Ruvar, Arika, and the wounded guard then flee into the woods. [/hider] [hider=Prestige Summary] [u]Carn[/u] [b]Beginning Prestige:[/b] 9 +5 for 10k characters -10 to acquire the title “Bladesman I.” Carn is remarkably skilled with a blade, capable of taking on several opponents with ease. [b]Ending Prestige:[/b] 4 [/hider]