Raylah

The Dawn of the Civilization (Stone age tribal NRP)

@Lady Selune Great :)

While we are at it, @DeadbeatWalking @Brithwyr @Aristo I'm tagging you here since you have shown interest here and maybe you would want to try it again?

The Dawn of the Civilization (Stone age tribal NRP)

@Lady Selune If it is the one I think, you are accepted!

This is heavily inspired by an interest check I have seen about a year ago, that sadly never made it into proper RP even though there was plenty of interest. Hopefully this one will do better.

The Dawn of the Civilization (Stone age tribal NRP)

The humans, once frightened creatures crawled up in caves, are evolving. No longer solely dependent on hunting and gathering – crops are being planted, small huts risen, villages founded. The tribes are no longer just a group of families bound together by hunger and fear, but real primitive nations, each with a different culture, beliefs or government. Some tribes thrive, rich crops harvested from fertile lands or stolen in raids from weaker opponents, others try desperately to survive in a hostile environment, suffering from harsh weather, wild beasts or greedy neighbors. All are oblivious to a new danger arising, unnoticed in the caves beneath the great mountains, the darkness which is ready to send its forces to the surface to feast on human flesh and souls.

THE OOC

Welcome, I hope that the short intro had caught your interest. I’ve been thinking about this idea for a while now and I believe it is ready to see the light of the world. This is going to be a story-driven nation RP from tribal era. There will be no stats or rolls, it is entirely up to you how powerful your tribe will be, what will be its strengths and weaknesses (but I will ask you to keep things in balance).
I think you can get the best idea about the setting from the sample sheet and the questions in the tribe sheet template, but I have also put together some basic information about the world to use as a baseline. Most of the things written in the "magic" description are meant only as examples, I will be happy if you come up with your own original pantheons and ways of worship.
The RP will be casual, I am not expecting you to write pages of text (altough you are welcome to), but I expect some coherent ideas and story.
I will be looking for at least 2-3 people with WIP sheets (at least some basic tribe and deity ideas) before starting an actual OOC. If you have any questions, suggestions or tribe ideas, feel free to ask me here or to shoot me a PM.

Races
Only humans allowed. I’m sorry but mixing half-centaurs with faeries and lizardmen just creates chaos.

Technology
The technology level will be fairly primitive – think late stone age, so sticks, stones and bones, no metal.

The World
I am purposely not giving you any map just yet, you are free to choose any environment your tribe will live in and I will put it all on the map later in proper OOC. The basic idea is one large continent surrounded by sea, there will be one large river (see the example tribe) with some lakes and a mountain range, probably tropical and subtropical areas. If your tribe wants to live in the land of eternal snow, I don’t have a slightest problem with adding an arctic area, so feel free to pick anything you want.
The fauna and flora will Earth-like, depending of course on the environment you are in. Since this is set in the past, you can add extinct animals like mammoths or sabertooth tigers or even slightly “mysterious” things like giant squids etc.

Magic
No active magic as in fireballs and telekinesis etc. is allowed in this world. There will however be a more subtle magic present in the form of blessings (or even curses) from your tribal deities. Each tribe will have a different system of “religion” – they might be worshipping the sun and moon, a mountain, some kind of animal or even a spirit that reincarnates as a seventh son of a seventh son each generation. This deity will require your people to worship it in a certain way - it can demand eating the hearts of your enemies, sacrificing part of your harvest or maybe kissing a tail of the sacred mouflon. Failing to meet the demands of your chosen gods might result in losing the gifts blessed upon you by your deity, or even a “curse” of some kind. Keep in mind this will be entirely up to you and your storytelling, I will not interfere with that at all.
As for the type of “blessing” that your tribe can get, it might be as simple as better harvest or calling the rain when needed, or more complicated, like giving your warriors strength in battle or allowing your people to see better in dark. All I ask is that you keep it on the mystical side of things rather than magical.

The Story
At the start of the RP, the life of the tribes will just go the normal way (whatever that might be for your people). Soon however, a new danger will emerge – fierce, demonic-like beasts, that will start appearing all over the continent, attacking all living things. How will your tribe react to this enemy? Will you stand up and fight, cower and hide, rely on the mercy of your gods, blame the neighborhooding tribe or even attempt to communicate with the creatures in hope of striking a deal with their master?

Nation sheet
Feel free to make the sheets prettier or add some additional sections if you are a dedicated world-builder. A paragraph or two in each section will be sufficient.

Tribe sheet

Name:

Brief description: A quick reference to describe the tribe. Are they nomads or have a settlement, conquerors or peaceful people, hunters or farmers?

Main deity:
Please describe the main deity worshipped by your people. You can add a short origin story or just a few words about who/what it is and what it does. How would one go about pleasing it? What angers it? How does it influence the lives of the people?
Side deities:
You can have two or three additional spirits or guardians or sacred objects

Government:
Is there one person leading the tribe, or a council of multiple people? Chosen by their strength or wits or by the power of the gods? Are your people free to speak their mind, or punished when they insult a leader? Is the tribe friendly to outsiders?

Inhabited area and settlements:
What is the environment your tribe lives in? Are there harsh winters, rainy springs? Is it a dense forest or open plains?
Does your tribe have any permanent settlements? What does it look like? Or do you move around, building temporary shelters?

Warriors:
What types of warriors does your tribe have (if any at all)?

Story:
What is your people's origin? How do they believe the world and their tribe became to existence?

Important people:
Entirely optional for now, later you should list the characters that will be important in your story.

Example sheet to use as a reference

Ai’dallani, the children of Nizsi

Name: Ai’dallani, the children of Nizsi

Brief description: Nomads travelling the river in their floating villages

Main deity: Nizsi, the great river
All life that ever was, is, and will be is a gift from Nizsi. During spring, Nizsi spreads to the country, removing the old life and seeding new life in its place. During late autumn and winter, Nizsi is weak, gathering strength for the beginning of the new cycle. Nizsi grants her children with all they need for life – food, water and protection. In exchange, all she asks is that all that came from her is returned back to her when it is no longer needed. For a child of Nizsi when their time comes, returning to her welcoming arms isn’t just a great honor – it is a necessity, the only way to be reborn again.
When Ai’dallani feel that the great river is angry, they pick several people amongst the volunteers, which then sacrifice themselves to Nizsi. During this self-sacrifice the person takes the largest stone they can lift, and jump into the water, holding the stone in their arms. It is considered the greatest honor amongst the tribe.

Side deities:
Lankushna, the crocodile spirit
Lankushna and his mate Ailinia were the first children of Nizsi. All life descends from their connection. Lankushna is the spirit of fighting and protecting. He grants Ai’dallani warriors strength and resilience, but only when they fight nearby the great river’s waters.

Ailinia, the ibis spirit
Ailinia is the spirit of family and continuation. She helps to heal wounds and cure sickness, if one is submerged into Nizsi’s waters. Every newborn child in the tribe must be bathed in the great river right after birth, so that the first thing in his life is receiving Ailinia’s blessing.

Government:
Ai’dallani have two levels of leadership – a ruling couple representing the guardian spirits and the council.
Each spring, at the start of a new lifecycle, the tribe performs a ritual to celebrate. During this ritual one man and one woman are chosen through divination as Lan’Nizsi and Aila’Nizsi – the human representatives of Lankushna and Ailinia spirits. They then live as a couple for the following year, ruling over the spiritual aspects of the tribe.
The council consists of chieftains of the seven poap’ki – the floating villages that shelter most of the tribe’s population. The chieftains are chosen from the most skilled people in the tribe, they can be the bravest warriors, the most successful hunters or fishermen, the most revered seers or healers. The council rules over the material aspects of the tribe.
Ai’dallani are friendly people, even to other tribes with different beliefs. They believe that all life, including the land-people, came from Nizsi. Whether the others believe it or not doesn’t matter – they are just blind to the truth, because they have not been in contact with the mother for generations. Ai’dallani will gladly welcome guests from other cultures, provided the guests will be respectful to their traditions.

Inhabited area and settlements:
The tribe inhabits the great river and the lakes it flows through. The area consists mostly of tropical marshlands, altough on some places the river runs through dense forests or open flatlands. Currently most of the tribe lives in one of the seven large floating villages, the poap’ki, although some decided to live on smaller vessels that accompany the villages on their journey. The villages usually travel in the same general direction, not entirely together, but always nearby. There is dense traffic of smaller boats travelling between poap’ki at all times, transporting goods, news or people from one village to another.
The river's current is weak most of the year, allowing the villages to sail in any direction they want to, using long poles to push the vessels around, and even using sails when the winds are favorable. The river goes through a yearly cycle - with the beginning of spring the river widens and floods the surrounding areas, filled by heavy rains and snows melting in the mountains upstream. Summer and fall are the best seasons for travelling and finding a safe place to anchor for winter. The temperatures don't drop too low, but the rains stop and the becomes narrower and more shallow.

Warriors:
Ai’dallani are rather peaceful people, the only true warriors in their tribe are Kushini – the crocodile warriors. These are the most elite fighters from the tribe, sworn to protect the people and to serve as bodyguards for the Lan’Nizsi and Aila’Nizsi. The crocodile warriors fight with two weapons – long and short with sharp spikes on one side, resembling the jaws of a crocodile. Mauls are usually made of bone or wood, with sharp stones or real animal teeth. If the need arises, hunters and fishermen can be useful in a fight as well.

Story:
At the beginning of time, there was only a barren wasteland, spreading over the world. The land was dry and cracked in many places. And from one of those cracks, a small spring appeared. At first, it was nothing more than a few drops of water, forcing their way through the rocks just as a child forces its way out of its mothers' womb. It was a long and painful birth, but drops became a trickle, the trickle slowly became a stream and the stream turned into a great river Nizsi, the mother of all living things.

Eventually Nizsi spread into the to the wasteland that our world used to be, seeding it with life. Colorful plants of all kinds began to grow and bloom, turning the rocky barrens into fertile lands. Nizshi would come every cycle, sweeping off the old life to give a chance to new one and the world was in perfect balance.

But Niszi felt there was still space for more life in this new world, so she gave birth to the first living creatures - her children Lankushna, the crocodile spirit, and Ailinia, the ibis spirit. They roamed the land, enjoying its beauty. Eventually they joined together and from that connection the ancestors of all living things were born. Suddenly the world was overflowing with life - fish, birds, reptiles, insects, mammals all placed next to each other, learning to coexist. It took Lankushna and Ailinia millenia to bring balance back to the world, to ensure that all the species will survive. It was then when Ailinia revealed her last creation - a human. Since the world was already in perfect balance, Lankushna was hesitant to place humans into it, worrying it might upset that balance. He eventually agreed, but the humans were instructed to preserve the balance, never taking more than they needed from the world, and always return everything to the mother of everything, Nizsi.

Some of the humans desired to explore the world and wandered far away from the river, forgeting about Lankushna's teaching. A large group however decided to stay as close to their mother as possible, at first sailing on feeble boats, which in time were perfected into the shapes of the poap'ki, the floating villages.

Important people:
Kiala – current Aila’Nizsi
Kiala was first elected Aila’Nizsi at the young age of thirteen and now it is her third year in row leading her people. While being young, innocent and perhaps a bit naive, she has strong connection with the spiritual world and great experience with interpreting the will of the spirits.
She and Ruvvi are currently expecting a child. It is considered a great blessing for the tribe when the leading couple conceives a child during their cycle together.

Ruvvi – current Lan’Nizsi
Ruvvi is twenty-six and it is his first cycle as Lan’Nizsi. His election was a surprise – he wasn’t a great warrior or a shaman like his predecessors, but rather a simple fisherman. Despite that, he is quite smart while having a calm mind, not easily provoked to violence. While most leading couples throughout the history were just formal tradition, Ruvvi and Kiala truly love each other and plan to stay together.

Ozei – chieftain of one of the poap’ki
Ozei is a twenty-two-year-old female leader of one of the floating villages. She is friendly and outgoing, but also rather short-tempered – easily angered, easily excited. Despite her flaws, her people love her as a fair and responsible ruler. She is a fearsome fighter, although her duties as a chieftain do not allow her to join the Kushini. She at least gets to train with her mate Vug, who is one of the crocodile warriors. They have three children.

Viva la Vida: The Price of Freedom (Closed)

Archer’s name was Remi, but everyone kept calling him ‘the new guy’. Ferrel told him that it will take some time to determine whether they should even bother remembering his name – he added one of his crooked smiles at the end of that sentence, but his eyes remained ice cold. Remi had already noticed that the bandit loved when people were afraid of him. When Ferrel’s companion recruited Remi and other men for the job, promising them huge prize, he always spoke about his master in whispers, constantly looking over his shoulder, describing terrifying tales of tortured women and butchered newborns. While most of these stories probably weren’t true, it took one look into that man’s eyes to make you believe he was capable of all that and even worse.

After they left the road, they moved through the woods for a few hours, changing directions and leaving fake tracks. Remi didn’t know who was the kid they ambushed, but they apparently expected someone very skilled to go after them. They seemed to know what they were doing, so he just followed them around, keeping his mouth shut in (probably justified) fear that they would change their mind about not killing him if he said something stupid. He did notice that even though they advertised a lot of money for every member of the ambush team, they took just a few small pouches with a few coins in them, their main target was the mysterious document. It made Remi wonder whether this was Ferrel’s plan from start – to use the new recruits as a cannon-fodder, getting rid of them when they stopped being useful. For some reason they decided Remi still could be useful and he was determined to do whatever it takes to keep it that way.

There was a lot of smaller hills in the area and Remi was soon out of breath. When they suddenly stopped, he was glad for a break, leaning against the closest tree. That’s why he didn’t notice at first that the others have surrounded him, Ferrel standing right in front of Remi, giving him an indecipherable look. “So, here we are,” he said quietly. Shivers run down Remi’s spine. But why would they bring him here just to kill him now? “Here is the thing. I have big plans and need more people. But I can’t stand idiots and the world seems to be filled with them lately. Lucky for you, you don’t seem like an idiot. I might be wrong, of course,” he scratched his head and looked at Marve and Isri, who shrugged. “But you are a quiet man and I can appreciate that, so I will give you a chance. But you should know,” he stepped closer, his face now only inches away from Remi’s, “that if you even think about betraying me, well you’ll beg me to kill you fast,” he hissed.

Remi gulped and nodded. He looked into Ferrel’s eyes and had no doubt he was telling the truth. But it wasn’t like he had a choice. These guys apparently had no problem with leaving a pile of corpses behind and he certainly didn’t want his to be added to it. There was also the fact that they knew how to make money and get away with it. Overall, he would definitely be better off on their side. “I’m with you, boss,” he said because it seemed like he was expected to provide some reaction.

Ferrel watched him for a few more moments which felt like an eternity and then grinned. “Great, then let’s show you your new home!” He put one arm around Remi’s shoulders and led him towards the top of the hill. Remi felt someone slap his butt lightly and turned his head to see Isri who was giggling quietly.

The small valley looked almost beautiful, hidden safely away between the hills covered with dense forest. Most of the trees inside were chopped down and there were now several small fields with various crops. There was a simple house at the opposite side of the valley, and a few fences that held some chicken. The group crossed a narrow stream jumping over rocks and headed towards the house.

The moment they got closer the door opened and a huge figure appeared, running towards them. Remi almost reached for the bow, but seeing the others relaxed and unalerted made him stop. The gargantuan man jumped to Ferrel, lifting him in a tight hug, yelling “bru’dah!”. Remi tried very hard not to stare at the fearsome bandit, who was not only hugging the giant back, but also laughing honestly, the frightening look disappeared from his eyes.

Remi had no idea what was going on, but figured it probably will be some kind of test for him and he was determined not to fuck it up. He put on what he thought was a neutral face, waiting quietly for the giant to stop crushing Ferrel’s ribs. Finally Ferrel was on the ground again, the man now turned his attention to Marve and Isri. The bandit gave Remi one his soul-piercing looks, the cold threat back in his eyes as he studied his face. “This is my brother,” he said eventually, evidently satisfied with what he saw. “We call him Bo.”

The big man turned to them. “BO!” he yelled and pointed to himself. “Bru’dah fe’el,” he patted Ferrel on the back, nearly knocking him down.

Remi nodded and smiled at Bo. “Nice to meet you.”

Bo’s brows furrowed as he thought for a moment before his face brightened again. “Eet u,” he grabbed Remi’s hand, shaking it vigorously.

“All right, that’s enough, big man, he needs his hands to fight,” Ferrel slightly pushed Bo away. “Go help Isri unpack.” When the giant hopped away excitedly, Ferrel turned back to Remi. “So, what do you think?”

Remi gulped, this was what he was afraid of. What was he supposed to answer? He had no idea what this man wanted to hear, so he went with something neutral. “Didn’t know you had a brother.”

Ferrel smirked. “I knew you weren’t an idiot. He’s been like this since he was born. Beat up some kids once when he saw them torture a kitten. Killed two guards who came to stop him. We have lived here since that.”

The house was not big enough for all of them and it was a warm night, so the bandits camped outside, each in their own small tent. Remi was exhausted so he went to sleep right after dinner, a big bowl of vegetable stew. He woke up suddenly, feeling his blanket move and reached for a dagger he kept under the pillow, but was too slow. He froze on a feeling of cold sharp steel pressed against his throat. Another hand pulled his sheet away completely and started to untie the strings on his pants. “Umm..,” he started, but shut up as he felt the knife pushed harder.

“Sssh,” someone hissed on top of him and giggled. That crazy woman. Remi honestly didn’t know if she wasn’t even scarier than Ferrel himself. With him one could at least guess what he does next. But this woman was absolutely unpredictable. And deadly.

She pulled his pants down and grabbed his penis. Remi didn’t think that under these circumstances it was even possible to get it up, but it became hard almost immediately as she touched him. Without removing the blade from his neck, she moved and lowered herself on him with a satisfied moan. Remi bit his lip, knowing that Ferrel was in the next tent and having no idea what would he think about this. But as she started moving faster and faster, he couldn’t hold back a few groans, surprised that he was even able to enjoy it. She on the other hand didn’t bother keeping quiet, her inarticulate moans must have been heard all over the valley. Remi closed his eyes and prayed that Ferrel was a heavy sleeper and that he doesn’t barge into the tent threatening to cut Remi’s dick off for fucking with his girl.

His prayers went unheard. “For fuck’s sake, Isri, either stop fucking the new guy or at least shut your bloody mouth before I stuff something into it!” Ferrel yelled from the next tent.

Isri just laughed. “You are welcome to join in, boss.”

Remi’s eyes widened in horror. Fortunately, Ferrel just mumbled some profanities but didn’t get up. It felt almost like forever before she finished, finally pulling the knife away from his neck, leaning closer to him to lick a few drops of blood that were running on his skin. She left without saying anything, just sending him an air kiss. He heard some quiet growling and complains from Marve’s tent as she crawled into it, but no more sex-related sounds, so she was probably just looking for a place to sleep. Remi just lied there, his penis still painfully hard, and tried to remember if he had ever heard of a weirder group of people.

The sound of fighting resonated through the entire city. Olmea muttered a curse, re-checking that the windows were shut tight and covered by thick blinds. The door was locked and barricaded by a large wardrobe. She kept them opened for as long as she could, because her husband was still outside, but when the angry mob marched through their street, shouting and yelling profanities about the king and the royal family, she knew that she couldn’t wait any longer. At first she was worried about him, but as the afternoon turned into night, fear was replaced by anger. He was going to get in trouble, she was sure of it. As if it hadn’t been enough she had to be worried sick for her son, who was definitely out on a night like this, her dumbass husband had to go play on a rebellion with his drunk friends from the inn.

The things they were saying… Shivers run down her back when she thought about it. How fucking stupid were they? The inquisition had been arresting people for much less and none of them were seen again, safe for the few who had been publicly executed. She walked nervously across the room, lit only by one candle, and climbed the stairs to check on the children. They were crawled up all in one bed, wide awake, but unusually quiet, scared of the noises from the outside. Olmea smiled at them, but couldn’t find any comforting words, leaning over to hug them instead.

Their street was quiet now, the protesters moved closer to the castle. Suddenly there was a knock on the door, Olmea almost jumped up at the sound. One of the children started sobbing. “Just be quiet here,” she whispered, “I will go deal with it.”

She went back downstairs to the room her husband used as a workshop. He was a shoemaker and there weren’t many tools there that could be used as a weapon, so she at least grabbed one small hammer and a long sharp knife. Someone knocked again and she moved closer to the front door, as quiet as she could.

Another desperate banging on the door. “Mom! It’s me, let me in!”

She would recognize that voice anywhere. Quickly pushing the wardrobe aside, she unlocked the door and opened it just to let her son inside, shutting it behind him again. She hugged him desperately, glad that he was not harmed. Only after that had she noticed a horrible smell that was coming from him. “Janril, what happened?”

As he talked, she brought him some water to wash himself a little, but it didn’t help much with the terrible stench. A cold hand however gripped her heart when he reluctantly told her what had he done. She had always been against him joining the city watch, believing that they had the best chance of living in peace if they just keep their heads down, never mixing into anything political. But he was so excited about it and at the time it seemed like a safe job.

“I can’t go back,” he whispered quietly, his eyes filled with tears that he had been trying to hide.

She nodded. None of them needed a reminder of what would happen to a deserter. And this was her son, her oldest boy. She would rather strangle all the guards in town and walked to the gallows herself rather than seeing him there. “We will fix this,” she smiled and stroked his hair. “We can send you to my cousin in Yhore in secret, you will be safe there before all here is forgotten. We just need to wait a few days before the city calms down.” Janril sobbed quietly and curled up next to her, putting his head on her lap.

The brief moment of peace was interrupted by a loud banging on the door. “Open the door Olmea, it’s me!”

She growled some curses but got up to unlock the door. “Shut up, you idiot,” she greeted her husband and pulled him inside, frowning when she smelled the ale from his breath. “Where were you Petyr? The kids are scared to death and you are somewhere out there getting arrested?!”

He just waved his hand, ignoring her. “What’s the smell?” he sniffed around before noticing Janril in the corner. “Hmm. So you came crawling back now that your beloved monster is dead?”

Janril frowned at his father but didn’t say a word.

“ENOUGH!” Olmea yelled at him, pulling on his elbow forcing him to face her. “I told you to shut the fuck up! I wouldn’t give a damn if it were just you who gets in trouble, hell I’d tie the noose myself, but you are putting our CHILDREN in danger as well,” she yelled right into his face.

“But you don’t understand! You saw the king getting shot! There is talk of a rebellion in the streets. Finally we can be free, we can get rid of the tyranny. The blood king is gone! We can go out and celebrate!”

All the fear and anger she had felt just came out and she slapped him as hard as she possibly could. He blinked at her, surprised, blood running from his broken lip. “I haven’t seen anything.” It was true that they were in the street watching the king and the princess return, but when someone yelled warning about assasin, chaos ensued. Still, Olmea was pretty sure she saw the king rode off on a horse. “And even if that was the truth, what do you think will change?” she hissed angrily. “He has a son and a daughter. There is the Vanguard, the city watch. THE INQUISITION! You think they will just let people riot in the streets? By morning, half of those dumbfucks outside is going to be dead and the other half arrested waiting for execution.

Tomorrow we can go out to the main square, to watch your friends getting hanged. But tonight, you are going to sit on your ass AT HOME or I swear I’m gonna shove this knife into your heart and throw your body into the river, do you understand?”

Petyr stood there speechless, considering her words. “But… if we don’t unite, we will never…”

She slapped him again, right into the swollen red mark from the previous hit. “The only thing you will be uniting with tonight will be my fist and that is if you don’t shut up right now. There will be no revolution, and even if there was, it would be just another people ruling over us and nothing would change. So get your head out of your ass and stop with these fantasies. You have a family to provide for.”

She was never going to feel clean again. No matter how much she scrubbed her body, trying to wash everything away, she could still smell his stench from her hair, feel his hands on her skin, the sticky sperm running down her thighs. She wanted to cry, but all she could feel was shame and anger. Not on that man, but on herself for letting this happen. Her father wasn’t even dead for a day and she had already dishonored his memory. What would he think about her?

The washcloth landed in the bucket of now cold water as she threw it away with frustration. She had used part of the money to rent a tiny room in a tavern on the other side of the town where people didn’t recognize her. Even though the food they gave her must have been delicious, given how quickly other guests were gorging on it, but to her it tasted like mud. She sat there quietly, listening to the excited chatter of normal people, alone and desperate. When she couldn’t take it anymore, she ran to her room, locking the door and cowering in the corner wrapped in a blanket.

She needed a plan, knowing she had to figure out how she would live from now. She needed more money, a job, some more stable and cheaper place to live. “But why?” she mumbled to herself. She had already proved to herself that she would do anything to survive, but what was the point? Her father was dead, all future plans shattered to pieces, what was left to live for?

The laughter from the staircase interrupted her thoughts. The people were excited, rushing out into the street. Karina remembered that they talked about the king returning to the city, that they can’t miss a chance of seeing his entourage parade to the castle, maybe be even lucky enough to catch a glimpse of the king or princess Eleanor themselves. Anger rose within her. He probably doesn’t even know her father existed, let alone that he had been executed in his name. She jumped up, deciding she wanted to at least see this man who ruined her life. And maybe scream the truth into his face. They would kill her, sure, but maybe it would be worth to have that moment of satisfaction. Maybe other people would stop and think for a moment when they would hear the truth.

The streets were filled with people but Karina managed to sneak her way to the front of the crowd, tightly wrapped in a new cape she had bought to cover her face. There weren’t many city guards around, with this amount of people they must have been stretched thin along the route and Karina hoped it would stay that way. First glance on king’s convoy convinced her otherwise. While the princess rode close to the people, greeting them and handing out small coins, the king had several knights around him and Karina realized she would never get close to him before being dragged away and suffering the same fate as her poor father.

She watched the look on the king’s face, barely keeping a calm demeanor as fury raged inside her. He wouldn’t even look at the people most of the time, and when he did, it was with disgust. Her eyes hypnotized his back as he rode by, she desperately wished to watch him suffer and die. And for a moment, it might have seemed that her wishes shaped the reality as she heard someone yell warning about an assassin and watched a crossbow bolt fly right towards the monster’s heart. Excited scream died on her lips when one of the guards fell from his horse coughing out blood and the king sprinted off unharmed.

People started yelling and running in all directions. Karina barely dodged someone’s elbow and pushed her way out of the open. She leaned against the wall and over the heads of the crowd watched the king’s horse disappear at the street corner. People were freaking out, half of them convinced that the king was dead or injured, loudly debating about what was going to happen to the kingdom now.

Karina watched in surprise as some started to celebrate, yelling insults about the king and his family. It warmed her heart to see that she wasn’t alone after all, that there were other people whose lives were destroyed by the king’s rule. People started to tell stories similar to hers about close ones being taken away under pretended reasons, families shattered, loved ones tortured and executed.

The city guards made feeble attempts to disperse the forming crowd, but there weren’t nearly enough of them to have any real chance. Some of the more aggressive people started exchanging insults with the guards, trying to provoke a conflict. Part of the crowd moved towards the central square and Karina went with them, terrified but excited. She knew this could not end well, that the king would send the Vanguard to deal with any insurgence in the city, but it was so refreshing to feel free for once.

The crowd stopped in front of the House of Questions. The Inquisition headquarters was a massive two-store stone building overlooking the square. People went silent, just staring on the hated place, the tension growing. Karina didn’t see who threw the first stone, it seemed to have flown right from the middle of the crowd, followed by the sound of glass shattering. As if that was a signal, dozens of stones and other objects were thrown at the building.

“Down with it!” “Break the door!” “MY SON! They took MY SON!”

The strongest men came forward and started to kick and push against the front door. A cart in the square was smashed to pieces, the sturdiest parts used as a battering ram. Few guards emerged from the side alleys, but were forced to retreat under a rain of stones. The door was thick and held for a long time before finally being burst open. The crowd poured inside the building, improvised weapons in most hands.

“Kill the monsters!” Karina’s voice joined with the others. Someone smashed a chair and she quickly grabbed a piece of wood. She felt so strong especially now with a weapon in her hand.

One of the doors opened and a confused elder man stood there confused, squinting at the crowd. “Wh…,” he didn’t even have a chance to finish the word. Karina recognized him, it was the clerk that told her that her father had been executed and then had her thrown out into the street. Furious howl escaped her lips as she jumped on the man, knocking him down and hitting him over and over again with her improvised mace until his bloodied skull had a shape of crumpled paper ball and he stopped screaming.

The others have headed downstairs into the dungeons, she could hear the sounds of fighting from there. Her thirst for blood wasn’t sated yet, so she rushed to help them, only to find bodies of several young acolytes on the ground before the cells. “Find the keys!” someone shouted. “Get them out!”

Karina stared in horror on the people behind the bars, the empty looks in their faces making them all look like barely living corpses. She screamed out, lunging forward when one of those corpses turned his head towards her and she recognized him. “DAD!” She stuck her hands through the bars but then hesitated, afraid to touch him.

His whole body was covered in cuts and burns, most of his fingers and one ear missing, a black burnt hole where his left eye once was, his limbs broken and twisted into strange angles. “Rin…,” he whispered, what remained of his hand reaching for her. “Did they…”

“No, dad. Everything is fine, we are going to get you out. We will go home and you are gonna be just fine,” she blabbered. “What… who… who did this to you?”

“I… they… The woman asked me questions. I… didn’t know what to tell her…,” his voice was becoming weaker and weaker. “But now… I can die in peace…”

“NO! No, dad, it will be fine. Who has the damn keys?!” she yelled into the hallway.

“We never found it,” one man shook his head, staring at the scene with anger in his eyes.

“B-but…,” she started but a sharp scream from upstairs interrupted her.

“THE VANGUARD!” The people rushed to the stairs. Karina turned to her father and grabbed the bars, shaking them in a desperate attempt to open the cell.

“Karina. Listen to me. You have to go… escape… survive. I can’t… protect you anymore. Go. Live. Please,” he whispered and turned away from her.

She screamed out and refused to move until a strong hand landed on her shoulder. “He is right!” a man snapped at her. “There is nothing you can do for him now. We need to go.”

Viva la Vida: The Price of Freedom (Closed)

@Cio Oh sorry I thought it was somewhere in the description, Im sure @Aerandir will send you one soon.

Viva la Vida: The Price of Freedom (Closed)

@Cio you can join us on discord if you have ideas or questions ;)

Viva la Vida: The Price of Freedom (Closed)

Eva slowly started to realize the world around her once again, although her mind still felt foggy and each part of her body weighed at least a ton. This was the precious moment where she didn’t feel any pain yet, but the bitter taste in the back of her mouth indicated that it will be pretty bad. Only one thing she knew of tasted that way – on the streets they called it Kahla or ‘a small death’. Extracted from a rare plant growing only in western deserts, it was a drug for the rich. One or two drops would give you an evening of foggy happiness, where nothing in the world really mattered and no problems existed. Around five drops would kick you out for a few hours, sending you into a deep dreamless slumber. Ten or more was a deadly dose, and frankly, it was one of the nicest deaths you could get, passing away happy with a smile on your lips.

Aside from being quite expensive, there was another huge flaw to the substance – it was incredibly addictive, and Eva tried to avoid it as much as she possibly could. This time she didn’t even remember drinking it, someone must have poured it down her mouth. What was it that happened? It was so hard trying to concentrate when the blissful flow was trying to carry her away again, but some vague feeling of danger forced to at least try to wake up. There was a lot of pain, she remembered that, coming in waves through her body. And some other pain, sharp and burning at one spot on her neck. Bright red iron was so close, but wasn’t she the one who was supposed to be holding it?

The memories came to her slowly, she remembered questioning Fenros, the short fight that could have very well ended with her death and most importantly the beautiful sound of the bastard’s bones cracking and his short scream full of pain. The rest was gone, deleted by the drug. She squinted, trying to determine where and when she is. The room was dimly lit by one candle, it seemed like it was one of the rooms in the castle reserved for the inquisitors, and it was dark outside. She must have been out for a couple of hours, yet she didn’t feel rested at all. The pain was waiting behind a corner, but she could already feel every muscle in her body sore, as if she had been running and lifting enormous weights for hours.

She tried to move her fingers and tilt her head a bit, slowly waking her body up, while thinking about the things Fenros said. Something just didn’t add up, this whole case was a strange one, she could already feel it before, but got a bit too excited about the idea of torturing the man. How unprofessional. Usually she wasn’t driven by emotions rather than reason and logic. Now, that the emotions nearly cost her life, she pushed reason back in charge.

All the time he claimed he was innocent, even at the moment when he had the upper hand over them. That didn’t really pair well with the idea of an overly confident person who uses his nickname to name an underground rebel party. Someone like that would no doubt take every chance to brag about his accomplishment and make threats. The only time she ever got a reaction from him was when she threatened the princess. It would be a great play by Eleanor – using this man as a pawn while keeping herself safe from any suspicion. If anything were discovered, it would have always been Fenros behind all of it, ready to take the blame.

Except for the fact that he didn’t actually take the blame. Maybe not that well trained pawn? There were several angles of the whole matter that didn’t make too much sense. She was ignoring them before, fully concentrated on the one that was perfectly clear, but now it was painfully obvious that she didn’t know the whole story. Actually, there was one more theory that she chose to ignore even now, one that would mean she had made a terrible mistake. But for the time being her pride wouldn’t even let her acknowledge that, let alone think about how much more logical this theory would be. She needed to talk to the assassin again, this time properly, break her completely to reveal the full truth.

A short groan escaped her lips as she tried to lift her body up on her elbows. After heroic, several minutes long effort, she managed to sit up in bed, leaning against the cold wall. There was a bowl of soup and a few papers on the stool next to her bed. She reached for the soup, starving as always after the drug left her body, wandering where Garret was. Hopefully Fenros hasn’t harmed him in the fight. She had another assistant, but it was a consistent talker, his constant blabbering sometimes driving Eva to the point where she wished he was the one tied up to the chair instead of whoever they were questioning at that moment. She glanced at the papers, realizing that as she was unconscious, Garret was the one who had to report to the Superior what they found out questioning the former bodyguard.

It took her a while to realize what was in the first folder she grabbed, but when she did, a wide smile appeared on her face. It was full of information about certain Annabelle Tyler, originally a freeholder from Yeruse, now an outlaw renowned for her hatred against the nobles. There were several warrants with increasing reward and a rough sketch of a woman Eva interrogated. She quickly went through the personal information, stopping on a note about closest living relatives – a younger sister and older brother, both still living in Yeruse, the brother even being the captain of the city guard.

Under the folder she found a note from Jennal. She gasped for air as she read it. So, our dear princess isn’t king’s daughter? Who would have said the queen would do such thing. Eva was actually quite surprised that the king raised Eleanor as his own, never mentioning anything, even when he was furious with her at times. She wondered whether he would hand her over to the inquisition, or he would rather deal with the ‘problem’ quietly using his own resources. Most likely the later, since he wanted to keep it a secret even from the ones most loyal to him. Good thing the Superior has half of the servants in the castle on the payroll. And the other half is terrified of him, so they tell him everything even without getting paid.

There was a postscript at the bottom of the note that even widened Eva’s grin.

“As for Annabelle Tyler, the king’s most loyal knights have been dispatched to bring her family members into the capital, so we could provide them with proper care. Get some rest before they get here.”

Although she was a bit disappointed not to be able to question the assassin immediately, she had to admit it is better to wait until they have ways to properly motivate her. Eva was looking forward to providing such motivation.

Viva la Vida: The Price of Freedom (Closed)

His companions thought it was so exciting, but Ferrel personally hated this part. The waiting could take hours, it could rain while they were freezing their asses of in bushes next to the road. Sometimes the tip was fake, and they returned to the shack emptyhanded, hungry, cold and pissed off. Ferrel hoped that this would not be one of those days, because the road from Akarath to Ruvale has been empty so far. At least it wasn’t raining.

There was some movement on the other side of the road and a head popped out of a bush. “Where are they?” the man yelled in Ferrel’s direction.

Ferrel just rolled his eyes, resisting the urge to bang his head against the nearest tree. “Get back inside you faggot!” These new people were as dumb as they come, but this prize was too big for Ferrel to take on with his usual crew. The mark would have armed guards as he was told, probably two or three armored knights.

Finally, the sound of hooves started to echo from behind a road turn and the first horses appeared. Two, three, Ferrel counted. Five, six, seven. “Fuck!” he growled. So much for three knights. Five heavily armed men, the mark and one cargo horse. There wasn’t time to call of the plan and those dumbfucks wouldn’t listen to him anyway, blinded by the prospect of the gold. Hell, in their minds, they’ve probably spent half of it already.

The rope went up right before the first two knights arrived on the spot, just as they planned. But then again, he entrusted this part of the plan to his regular crew, Marve and Isri. Two men and two horses went down in one pile of entangled bodies and armor. The target – youngest son of some baron from east flew over the head of his horse as that came to a sudden halt, cargo horse stopping next to it.

Arrows started flying from both sides of the road, hitting the remaining three knights. The first two managed to climb back on their feet and a quick brawl ensued as several bandits jumped out of the bushes on the roadside and attacked them. The fight was short but bloody, Ferrel waiting until the last possible moment to join in, putting his short sword into back of the last knight standing. As he expected, nearly half of the new recruits was bleeding into the dirt, either dead or wounded.

The man that shouted at him from the bush earlier was trying to hold a long cut on his leg together and stopping the stream of blood from it. “We did it, eh?” he grinned. Ferrel nodded and smiled, bending over to him, extending one hand to help him up. The moment man grabbed it, Ferrel’s left hand darted forward, slitting man’s throat in one clean cut.

“Finish the wounded,” he ordered to Marve, who quickly ended the lives of two other men on the ground. Only three recruits remained now, stunned by the quick turn of the events. Isri moved behind them, quiet and elegant as always, thin dagger in each hand as she waited for the order to get rid of them.

One of the men stepped forward. “Ey man, we had a deal!”

Ferrel shook his head and Isri leaped forward, the tip of her blade coming out of the front of man’s throat. He gargled blood for a moment before his body joined the rest of the corpses on the ground. Other man turned to flee, stopped by a dagger that somehow moved from Marve’s hand into man’s back. The last recruit frowned, tightly gripping his bow handle, his other hand ready to reach for an arrow, even though he had no chance of even drawing the bow. Ferrel watched him with a smirk. “I think I like you.”

Isri grinned and stepped towards the archer. He tried to lift the bow, but she laid one of her hands on it, gently pushing it down. Her other hand grabbed man’s hair, pulling his face closer to hers and sticking a tongue into his mouth. “Welcome,” she smiled, licked her lips and danced off down the road.

Ferrel and Mavri shared amused looks. “Get back to the fucking job,” Ferrel laughed and patted the archer on a shoulder.

Mavri caught the cargo horse and started searching through the satchels on its back. A few satchels of coins were quickly moved into his backpack before he finally pulled out a leather document case. “I think this is it!” He peeked inside.

“As if you could read, you dipshit.” Ferrel took the documents and went through them. He didn’t really understand why they were so important, but someone was willing to pay money for them and that was good enough for him. “All right, we got it. Grab anything useful and let’s move before someone shows up.”

“Is this useful?” Isri returned, dragging a man by a collar of his expensive shirt.

It was the noble boy, son of someone, who seemed to have survived the fight without any injuries, side from a big bruise on his forehead. Ferrel shook his head. “Sadly, no. The buyer clearly said no survivors.”

The boy’s eyes widened as he finally realized what was happening. “No! Wait! My father will pay for me whatever you say!”

Ferrel shrugged. “Sorry kid. Hey, new guy! Put an arrow into him and let’s go.” He scratched his head. “Actually, wait a second,” he added quickly. The boy sighed in relief. “I really like your coat.”

“It’s yours!” He took it of fast, handing it over to the bandit. “Whatever you want, you can have a hundred more like it!”

“Thank you, it would be shame to get blood on it. Now you can shoot him.”

“WAIT! THE KING WILL GO AFTER YOU IF…” words were cut off by an arrow that pierced boy’s chest, directly where the heart was.

A laugher escaped Ferrel’s lips. The king. “Fuck the king. He can come and blow my dick if he wants me so much.”

The shoes were polished so well be could almost see his reflection in them. Janril admired them for a second before moving to the last item on the list - his sword. A quick look around confirmed that the barracks were empty, his colleagues probably out drinking or playing cards. Janril shook his head with a disgusted look at the empty beds, for sure not made up properly. The regulations clearly stated that the sheets should be folded in half, placed in the middle right under the pillow, exactly as Janril’s were.

He sighed. The other men didn't take their duties in service to the king seriously enough. But back to the sword. After checking he was alone again, he suddenly drew the it, jumping up to his feet, trying to copy the stance he had seen swordsmen use at the latest tournament. “Sir Allaway, I challenge you to a duel!” he yelled at the empty beds. “The winner shall earn undying fame, the loser will perish. Let the best man win!” Janril swung a sword, imagining how he would fight the famous knight. He attacked, lounging forward and hitting a bed frame with his knee. A few curses escaped his lips, but he kept the fantasy going, stumbling back and making a few feeble defensive movements, imagining deflecting powerful strokes from his opponent. He suddenly ducked and jumped back up, hitting the enemy with the hilt and finishing him off with a fast and deadly direct strike right under the helmet.

The crowd roared as Fenros went to the ground, blood running through gaps in his armour. Janril turned to see the king, looking pleased and impressed. King nodded and Janril knelt in front of him. A sword softly touched his shoulders. “Arise, sir Janril!” the king exclaimed and the crowds cheered again. Princess Eleanor was coming, beautiful as always. “My champion,” she leaned towards him, “I have a special gift for the tournament winner,” she whispered right into his ear.

A burst of laughter interrupted the fantasy at the best part and Janril opened his eyes to see two other men watching him, grinning. “Ermmm… I was just about to polish my sword,” he mumbled.

That only caused another laugh. “Sure, sure, go ahead and polish all you want, just don't make us watch it.” One of the men jumped right into bed, not even taking of his shoes. “If you went with us, you wouldn't have to polish your sword yourself. Nancy at the Yeruvian rose can do things with your sword you wouldn’t believe it.” He yawned and closed his eyes.

The other man came closer to Janril and spoke quietly. “Look, kid, I know you are new here and want to make a good impression, but you should get some rest. The king is returning to the capital tomorrow and the city guards have been tasked to keep order in the streets. That's where you can prove yourself, not by folded sheets and polished boots. So go to bed now.”

Janril stood at attention. “Yes, sergeant! I will do my best to serve the king!”

The older man just shook his head, mumbled something about kids being unbearable these days and headed into his bed. It took Janril a while to fall asleep, thinking about all the kinds of reward the princess would give him in her own chambers.

The next day city guard was at full strength, placed along the kings route through the city, trying to keep the crowds at bay. Janril was stationed at a smaller square along with the sergeant that talked to him previous day. He felt like living a dream - wearing a beautiful uniform, carrying a sword and most importantly, protecting the king himself! He could hear the crowd cheering down the road as the convoy was getting closer to the square.

Janril could barely hold his excitement. What if the princess notices him? The noises got louder and sergeant frowned, listening carefully. “Something is wrong,” he said at the same time as a galloping horse, carrying a beautifully dressed woman and a knight ran through their section of the route. “Come on!” the sergeant yelled and sprinted towards the source of the noise. Janril’s excitement was dulled by confusion, but he followed the older man.

They ran a few hundred yards until the couldn't continue anymore - a huge crowd was blocking the path. “The king is dead!” someone yelled. “No it was the prince who died!” other voice responded angrily. “Shut up, you haven't seen anything!” Janril couldn't tell if it was the first man again or someone else, they were all hidden in the crowd. “The armies are marching onto us!”

Three other city guards have joined them, all looking as confused as Janril was feeling. “Everyone calm down,” the sergeant spoke calmly. “Please return to your homes, the show is over.”

“What do you know?” “You all serve the blood king!” “They took my SON!”

Janril was terrified, but he couldn't just stand by when they insulted the king. He stepped forward. “Who said that? You are under arrest!”

“Fuck you!” “Go back to kissing the tyrant’s ass!” “Fuck the king!”

Anger took control of him. How dare they say such things? He drew the sword. “I command you to stand down.”

The sergeant jumped to him, trying to pull him back. “Are you insane? Put that sword away or you are gonna get us all killed!”

That sentence caused Janril to snap out of his state of righteous fury. He looked back at the other men. Five guards with swords, two of them also had worn shields. Against a huge angry mob. They exchanged clueless looks, waiting for someone to decide what to do. The crowd solved the problem for them. A stone hit one of the guards right into face, who fell to the ground, covered in blood. The sergeant jumped to him, trying to help him up, but the man was unconscious. “Help me with him!” he yelled at Janril who was standing by with his mouth wide open, unable to move. The other two guards quickly raised their shields over their fallen friend, protecting him from more rock that came from the crowd. “Don't just stand there boy, MOVE!”

And Janril did move, although not in a way the sergeant expected. The sword clanged loudly when it hit the ground, the boy who held it already on the run through a side alley. “Get him!” someone yelled which made him increase the speed. He could have gotten away had he not made a mistake of looking back. While checking on how far the pursuers are he tripped over an abandoned cart and came tumbling down onto the dirty ground.

He stared in horror on the men that ran after him, carrying sticks and stones, fury and hatred clearly visible in their eyes. Sudden warm wet feeling spread from his crotch as he squealed, trying to get back up to his feet. He moved into a smaller alley behind some inn, startling the horses stabled there. His eyes desperately searched for a place to hide, finding only a huge pile of horse manure. The shouts were getting closer, so he jumped in, burying himself deep into it. The men following him moved past and continued through the alley.

Janril’s heart was pounding heavily accompanied by the sound of soft sobbing. The fact that he had just ran away and failed his duty didn't really concern him. But this was real fight? Being scared and running away for his life, hiding in a pile of shit? There was nothing noble, nothing heroic here, it was not at all as he had imagined it. And the king? Part of the crowd seemed to believe he was dead. And even if he weren't, what could one young boy really do to protect him? “Fuck the king,” Janril mumbled and started to unbutton his uniform.

They wouldn't even let her bury her father. Karina furiously kicked a stray cat, lounging towards its prey. It was a rat, dead for at least a few days, judging by the smell coming from its opened stomach. The girl swallowed a desperate scream, it wouldn't do her any good other than alarming the city guards who would beat her up and kicked her out of the city. Her stomach grumbled and she looked down at the carcass again before turning away. She wasn't that hungry. Yet.

How much can your life change in just a few days, she thought as she wandered the streets aimlessly, hoping some miracle would happen and she would wake up from this horrible nightmare. Just three days ago she was sitting at that bench, holding hands with Olaf and exchanging stealthy kisses when they thought no one was watching. And now?

She was all alone and scared, the paper that had been nailed to the bakery door crumbled in her hand. The men at the smithy gave her side glances, whispering amongst themselves until she walked closer to them. When she asked to speak to Olaf, they looked at each other, frowning. “He's not here,” one growled. “You should leave.”

Karina was confused, she could clearly see his silhouette through the window, but when she took a step forward to explain it, the man yelled at her. “I said get lost! We don't want anything to do with you,” he added loud enough so everyone on the street could hear him.

Trying to hold back the tears, she sat on a bench on the other side of the street, determined to wait for her boyfriend. Maybe he was just too busy and didn't want any disturbance. His apprenticeship was nearly over and his master was now deciding whether to offer him a proper job or not. Yes that must have been it, he was just too nervous right now.

She waited for hours, trying to hold back the tears. The sun was nearly setting and all the other men had already left the smithy, before he finally showed up. She walked towards him, looking forward to be held in his arms, but he took a step back the moment she moved closer, his eyes ice cold. Never in her life had she felt more lost and alone. Even him. She knew what he was going to say, but it still hurt beyond imagination to hear those words from him.

“We can't see each other anymore. You have to stay away from me.” He just turned around and left her there, standing alone in the middle of the street. She could not hold the tears back anymore, whole streams were running down her cheeks, while people walked around her, careful to not even look her way.

The memory came uninvited and didn't want to leave her. She decided to go back to the Mounted mufloon inn, perhaps Raken will be in a better mood this time and at least gives her some leftovers from the kitchen or lets her sleep in the stables.

It was early morning, the sun had barely risen over the horizon, but Karina had already been up for a few hours. It was the tough life of the bakers, in order to have fresh pastry for sale in the morning, he and her father had to get up long before sunrise each day. Today it was just her, preparing the dough, heating the oven, her slim fingers carefully twisting and weaving until the buns and pretzels were in the right shape. She knew her father went to the tavern last night and most likely returned very late, so she let him sleep in. When the first batch was ready, she pulled it out of the oven, enjoying the beautiful smell of fresh-baked pastry. She took a few pieces and a mug of water and knocked on father's door. As there was no response, she quietly opened it.

A small frown appeared on her face - the bed was intact as she had made it previous morning, meaning her father didn't get home at all. Perhaps he and his friends played cards a bit too long and decided to sleep at the inn? Or he had one too many ales and is now sleeping it off somewhere next to the street on the route home? She sighed and decided to go look for him. Fresh pastries would be late today.

She headed to the Mounted mufloon, asking some people along the way, but no one seemed to have seen her father. The young girl, who was cleaning the floor let her inside the tavern, giving her strange looks, as she went to get Raken.

Karina smiled at the man and went to hug him, confused when he grabbed her shoulders and gently pushed her away. “What are you doing here child?” He wasn't looking at her, but at the front door to the inn, which were still open. He maneuvered Karina into a corner, so they wouldn't be visible from the street. “Your father isn't here, I thought they would let you know,” he hesitated, looking somewhat guilty. “They took him last night. The inquisition.” He was now just whispering. “Arrested for treason, that's what I've heard.” he stepped away from her, his voice now louder. “You can't be here. I don't want any problems and I certainly don't want any traitors parading about in my inn.”

Karina stared him, unable to speak. “You knew my father since you were children. You must know…”

“I don't know anything!” he shouted. “And I don't want any problems. Leave!”

She was stunned as he pushed her out of the building, took a quick frightened look on the street, and slammed the door behind her. Even though the street was busy, people moved around her as if she were contagious.

She took a longer route through the city outskirts so she wouldn't have to walk close to the House of Questions. Most people avoided the inquisition headquarters, but on that day she headed straight there, determined to find her father, to convince them that it was just a horrible misunderstanding. Her visit was short. When she said her name, the clerk at the desk searched through a pile of papers and then dryly announced her that her father had been found guilty of treason and the sentence had already been carried out. This body was to be burned and ashes scattered into the river. All of his properties are forfeited in favor of the crown. She was staggered, barely managing to stutter a few words before a guard kicked her out into the street.

She went home, the thought that she still had unbaked buns prepared for the oven now felt absurd. There was a new big lock on the door of the house she grew up in and an eviction notice nailed to the wood. Karina wasn't a great reader, it took her a while to go through it, even though she already knew what it said.

In just a few hours her world turned upside down. Yesterday she and her father owned a bakery, not exactly rich, but enough to make a decent living, befriended and respected by the neighborhood. Now she had a few copper coins in one of her pockets, not even enough to buy a proper meal. The only clothes she had was the dress she was wearing. Everyone avoided her as if she were a leper. Oh yes, and also her father is dead, executed for somehow committing treason against this monster of a king that ruled over Tricaelia.

She had no tears left, used them all to cry herself to sleep last night, shivering from cold and fear in some half-demolished hut at the outskirts. It was lunch time and Mounted mufloon was full of people, enjoying Raken’s delicious stew. She stayed away, watching from a side street, not wanting to go through the pain of being kicked out by a close friend again. One of the customers stumbled out to piss in the back alley. When he was done, he turned to her with a greedy look, gesturing her to come closer. Having a pretty good idea of what such man would want from her, she didn't move. At least until he reached into his pocket and showed her a few golden coins. Her brain immediately came up with an image of a hot meal and a bed and it was almost impossible to resist.

Cold, pain and the smell of sweat and ale, that was what Karina remembered from her ‘first time’, a moment she dreamt of sharing with Olaf at this year's harvest festival, when her father would finally let her spend the night away from home. She was, after all, only fourteen. She bit her lip to stay quiet when he turned her to face the wall, his drooling mouth kissing her shoulder, dirty fingers lifting her skirt, roughly forcing themselves between her legs. As the man was groaning and moaning behind her, there was only one thought in her head. ‘FUCK THE KING!’

Viva la Vida: The Price of Freedom (Closed)

Eva didn’t sleep well. Saying that she hasn’t slept at all would probably be closer to the truth. The few precious minutes of sleep she got were filled with nightmares about daggers in the dark, arrows flying around, burying themselves deep into flesh, streams of blood filling the streets, fire consuming the city. She jerked awake from a nightmare of the night right into the nightmare of the day – cramps running all over right side of her body, muscles on her thigh as hard as stone. She bit her lip not to scream out at loud and suffered in silence until the sun popped up over the horizon and she could finally move a little. She spat out the blood on the floor, she must have bitten the lip too hard. The door opened, Eva didn’t even have to look to know it’s Garret, the only person who could enter her room at this hour and without knocking.

He gently grabbed her and carried her to the bathroom, where there was a full tub of hot water already waiting for her. A sigh of relief escaped her lips and she had to fight hard not to let any tears escape her eyes. Now that she could finally turn from a heap of flesh screaming for help into a normal person, she had time to think about previous day. To her regret, she wasn’t allowed to go back to interrogating the assassin. As soon as she told Superior Jennal the name that the woman screamed out, all investigations were halted temporarily, waiting for the king to decide on the next steps.

Fenros was to be arrested, that was without a shadow of doubt. Whether he would be handed over to the inquisition immediately, that was uncertain. He was an important person in the court, and the evidence against him wasn’t very solid. Eva didn’t know what the history between the king and the knight was, but the ruler must have had great trust in him to put the responsibility of guarding the princess’ life solely on his shoulders.

‘A bodyguard of the queen’, that was what the woman said. Eva thought about the queen for a moment, but if there was one thing to be known about her, it was the love for her children. While there could be some hidden tension between her and the king, it was unthinkable to even consider the possibility that she would want to harm prince Aaron. But what about the princess? The assassin said that the deaths of the king and the prince were certain, but not a word about princess Eleanor. Just that Fenros was the bodyguard of the queen.

Thoughts rolled slowly in her head, a new idea formed somewhere deep in her subconsciousness. Eva examined it carefully from each angle she could think of, poking and probing it, looking for mistakes and weak spots. It wasn’t until the water in the bath was almost cold when she summoned Garret to help her get dressed, her eyebrows drawn together, and her mind still lost in thoughts.

---

She had to wait in the hallway for several minutes before being taken to the Superior’s office, gritting her teeth as she had to lean against the wall to take the weight off her leg. When she was finally allowed to enter, one or two drops of sweat had already formed on her forehead.

“Eva Gallard,” he looked at her from behind his desk, laying down a quill. “I thought you will get some rest before we need your services again.”

Eva had to suppress a frown. ‘I’m busy, get out and wait till I call for you,’ that was what he was really saying. He must have guessed what she was thinking about, because a wide smile appeared on his lips and he got up to greet her. With a sigh of relief, she lowered herself down onto a chair and accepted a glass with dark liquid he was offering her. “I do apologize for interrupting you, but there is one more thing I wanted to discuss with you. It might be nothing, but…” She didn’t have to finish to get his full attention. While they didn’t particularly like each other on a personal level, the Superior had learned to trust her instincts and listen to what she had to say. She took a sip from the glass and nodded with an appreciative smile.

“Yerusian mead. I got a few bottles left from last year’s harvest festival. I’m not really a wine person this early in the morning, but this thing puts you up on your feet,” he talked, letting her gather her thoughts.

Eva nodded, already feeling the warmth spreading inside her body. “There was something else the prisoner had told me yesterday. At first, I dismissed it as her mistake or inaccurate information, but…”

“But?”

“There might be something to it. When she said that Fenros was responsible for the sabotage, she also mentioned, that he was the bodyguard of the queen.”

Jennal shook his head. “The queen has her own bodyguards, Fenros was tasked only to protect princess Eleanor.”

“Yes. But the woman didn’t mention her at all. She said the king is as good as dead, alongside with ‘the unworthy prince’, which we assume to be prince Aaron. But nothing about princess Eleanor.”

“It might be because the princess is of little consequence,” Jennal replied, but then frowned. “But if the king and the prince were dead…” he stopped, realizing where she was headed to.

Was she really going to say this out loud? If it turned out to be a lie, she would probably be considered a traitor to the crown herself. But then again, if it turned out to be truth, the consequences were huge. She took a deep breath. “In that case, Eleanor would inherit the crown,” she finished his thought. “She would be the queen and Fenros would truly be the queen’s bodyguard.” There was a moment of silence when they both contemplated on the gravity of the situation they have found themselves in. “Now this is just a theory, based on a few words of a woman we know nothing about.”

Jennal nodded. “Indeed. But it is still a theory the king should be notified about. I will go and talk to him right away, we will leave it to him to decide what to do next. Meanwhile, you should get ready. There is a special guest in the dungeons that will be waiting for you.”

A corner of Eva’s mouth turned up in an evil grin. “The king handed him over to us?”

“Without a second of hesitation. But he will not be easy to break.”

“Oh, I’m counting on that.” Her smile got wider as she limped towards the office doors.

Viva la Vida: The Price of Freedom (Closed)

The dungeon was filled with the typical stench that you never find anywhere else. Sure, the most important components were easily identifiable; the piss, shit and sometimes vomit created a unique a truly… personalised mixture that differed from person to person. The subtle smell of blood from drying splatters on the table and walls was in sharp contrast with sour, sharp odour of burned flesh. But there was something different here, a soft scent of something else, permeating the air, almost like special spices, a secret ingredient thrown into a pot with nearly perfect soup. Not many people who entered the dark place below the House of Questions were able to identify it, but everyone was affected by it. The smell of hopelessness and desperation, evaporating from every pore of people who were locked up down here.

This was the smell that Eva enjoyed, because it meant she was doing her job well. Some people might think that she enjoyed torturing people, hurting them until they reached the breaking point, but that wasn't really the truth. She didn't love it, she didn't hate it. It simply needed to be done and she was one of the best at it.

As she entered the cell, a soft smile appeared on her lips. Today was a good day. Her knee hurt, but it was that normal everyday kind of pain she was used to living with. She even managed to get out of bed on her own and required only a short massage on the stuff muscles to be able to walk the stairs down to the dungeon. And she got to work on this traitor, an older chubby baker, who was caught last night singing that damn song. Just the thought of that was enough to erase the smile from her lips. How dare they? The people in the kingdom owe everything to the royal family - there has been nothing but peace, stability and prosperity for the past decades. And still, there are individuals who would riot and rebel, not giving a thought to the chaos that would ensue if the king had ever been overthrown. Such ingratitude.

One of her two henchmen, Garret, had already prepared a softly cushioned chair for her. It looked almost inappropriate compared to the simple wooden chair the baker had been tied to. But it was the prisoners who were supposed to be feeling uncomfortable, not her, she thought as she slowly maneuvered her body into the chair, trying to avoid putting her knee into some uncomfortable position. Garret stood by, ready to help her, but since today was a good day, she didn’t need any assistance. Once she was settled in comfortably, her leg resting on a smaller stool, she finally looked at the prisoner.

The man was sobbing slightly, the sound muffled by the gag in his mouth, his arms tied to the chair by wide leather straps, hands clenched into fists to mask fear, or maybe even anger? Anger would be much more interesting, but judging by the large wet spot on the front of man’s trousers, it was probably just fear.

Eva reached into the pile of papers on a small table next to her, taking a while to find the right one. Not that she would actually need it, she had already read and memorized everything that was publicly known about this man before entering this room, but it was all a part of the show. Her eyes slowly followed the letters on the paper, while the tip of her index finger tapped on her lower lip. The prisoner’s eyes jumped between her and Garret, who was playing his own part, preparing the show for act two. Several tools were carefully spread on the big table, and the large man was taking the rest out of a box, closely examining each one. Eva had to suppress a giggle as she saw him shake a small speck of dust off an old, rusty and bloodstained cleaver. She liked working with this man. While he wasn't the smartest man alive, he had certain sense for dramatic moments. Not to mention his strength, which was useful not only in their job, but he also helped her to move around, sometimes even carrying her when she had one of the bad days. And he did all this with blind silent devotion she never truly understood.

The baker squirmed in his restraints, shook his head and tried to speak. Eva just smiled and looked into his eyes. “Stop that.” She made a short pause to make sure she had his undivided attention. “Now I'm pretty sure you are dying to tell me a lot of things. You wouldn't believe how even the most quiet people can't seem to keep their mouths shut when they're down here. But,” she tilted her head a bit, narrowing her eyes, “most of what people tell me here is just useless bullshit. ‘I'm innocent!’ ‘I didn't do anything!’ ‘This is all a mistake.’ Do you think I would waste my energy coming here if this was all a MISTAKE?” she raised her voice unexpectedly, pleased to see that the man jerked, startled by the sudden change in her tone.

“I wouldn't be happier if we could just go straight to the moment when we have a decent and meaningful conversation. But I have a very bad experience with people just not taking it seriously. Can you imagine they even try to lie to me? Even though I have an authority granted by the king himself. And disrespecting me like that is disrespecting his majesty.” She shook her head, sighing. “So let's just make sure that everyone in this room knows exactly what is going on, and what will continue to go on in case there is someone who doesn't get the message the first time. Garret, I will leave the first choice to you today.”

Smiling, the man turned to the table, moving his hand over the tools. He sometimes enjoyed this part a bit too much, a flaw easily forgiven given his other benefits. The baker started squirming and squealing again, trying to scream through the gag. Garret frowned at him, a big pair of cutting pliers gripped tightly in his left hand. His right fist now flung forward, hitting the prisoner's stomach and silencing him for a few moments. Eva gave Garret an appreciating nod, those sounds were really starting to get annoying. With precision acquired by the years of practice Garret placed the sharp blades of the pliers around the base of man's little finger and pressed on the handles. The bone snapped with a quiet crack and as always, there was a moment of silence before the baker started screaming, staring in disbelief on the finger that was now lying in the dirt on the ground.

Garret raised an eyebrow in an unspoken question whether he should punch the man again to shut him up, but Eva sighed and shook her head. She stretched her back and waited patiently for the screams to die out, massaging her thigh. The muscles tended to get stiff when she didn’t move for some time and she could already tell that getting up from this chair will not be very nice. ‘Not for me and certainly not for you,’ she thought and looked at the prisoner who was now just sobbing quietly, hypnotizing his bleeding hand, as if in hope that the finger will suddenly grow back.

“So,” she growled and put her foot on the ground, grabbing her cane, “I think now we can talk like two responsible adults, don’t you think?”

---

She left the cell two hours later, carefully wiping the blood from her cane-holding hand (slippery hands led to very painful accidents), and headed to a small bathroom to wash the rest of the blood from her face and arms. She was a bit sad because the baker really wasn’t a part of any secret group of rebels, but just a lonely old man who got drunk and whistled the wrong tune. She made sure that were no lies and nothing left untold, at the end he would have told her about every single thought that had ever passed through his head without a split second of hesitation. Now all that she had to do was sign the execution order. ‘And take a long hot bath,’ she thought while scrubbing a blood splatter from behind her ear, wondering how the hell did it get there.

A quiet knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. “What?” she snapped out.

“I have a message for you, inquisitor Gallard,” a startled voice answered. Eva opened the door and a young acolyte handed her a sealed note. She glanced at the symbol imprinted in the wax, not surprised to see it was from Superior Jennal, the inquisition leader. This could either be very good or very bad, but it was certain he wasn’t inviting her for a nice cup of tea.

Her eyes widened as she read the few lines Jennal scratched in hurry.

“Assassination attempt on the king, he is unharmed.
Suspect arrested by the Woodsmen (V.), in the castle now.
I’m meeting with high council, you are in charge of the investigation.
J.”

She frowned at the mention of the Woodsmen. They could be useful from time to time, but otherwise they were just a pain in the ass, sneaking around in their capes, looking all gloomy and mysterious. “Garret! Pack the things and get the carriage ready, please. We have some work at the castle.”