"Well, well, where to begin? Your father was a young thing at a time, full of brim and vigor, as well as... let's say, an insatiable wrath. I could tell that he was rather gifted in the summoning arts -- on the level of some lesser witches, I'd say -- but as you know, none of that talent was his.
"He had approached me withe a haughty arrogance and began to explain himself in a tone that I had never fathomed a human to be able to speak to me in. He ha been... searching for me," a painstaking look crossed the scarred face; she was trying to approach the subject without revealing her own feelings. "He had read of a witch long before either of our times, in some long-forgotten tome. A witch who had sacrificed her soul to pierce the very fabric of reality and allow her daughters to be the very first to draw beings from an altogether new plane of existence, as you know it to be: R'lyeh. I, and therefore you as well, are descended from one such daughter.
"He wished me to bear a child, hypothesizing that a witch born with the pedigrees of two renowned summoner lineages, with the added power of the demon already bound to him, would be omnipotent with her powers; a new god under our tutelage. He was wrong, if you are anything to go by, but your potential is that of some of the greatest Witch Mothers in our history.
"We had gotten to know each other a great deal over the months of trying for conception and the resultant pregnancy. He defended the cottage we called home, and was well-spoken despite his initial abrasive behavior. He had also told me of home. Of his back-stabbing family's ways, and of his even pettier little brother; spiteful of his success. He told me that his mother had been the one to summon and bind that soul-using creature to him -- as was a common ability and occurrence in their household -- in order to grant him any magic at all, as well as to avoid scandal. It was preposterous for me to fathom, but the way in which he spoke, and the anger I could feel that was coming from his very depths...
"The unfortunate thing was that your birth showed me the man that he truly was without the demon's influence. He was meek, apathetic to most matters, and simply pathetic; I had learned that I was more in love with the demon than I was with him. And, as I have said, it was because you were born. What I have long since deduced was that his lack of pride and caring in anything he did was the source of the demon's power over him; your existence was his pride and joy, detracting from that. It was only a few years after you were born and a few months before you were taken that he became deranged and began accusing me of your abuse; of injuries that were severe, yet I had no hand in. At first, I had taken notice like a cat does a fly, but closer to the time of your abduction... I began to suspect that it was his- or rather the being still tied to him's doing.
"The next thing I knew was that I was waking up to a cold spot next to me, and your crib empty; you having been spirited by that father of yours without my knowing." What followed next was a long pause of silence. Riley simply stared into her drink, taking the occasional gulp, while Cygna did the same to her. Eventually, this broke into a Q&A. Riley asking her questions such as: "When did you cast magic on him then? You said you did it only once..." To receive answers such as: "To bind your father's demon to you... upon his eventual death, but without the side-effects he had experienced; you are your own person." But the only way to receive those were for her to answer some of Cygna's own questions -- questions she already knew the answers to -- about her daughters life up until now. For once, Riley actually felt as if she had a mother- had always had this caring maternal figure in her life. The hours they had spent together could actually be considered... fun. And toward the end, in the evening, at the thought of having to leave her mother, Riley broke down in a sobbing drunken mess that was crying and wiping her snot all over her mother's shoulder.
"Shh, shh," her mother hushed "You've had too much to drink in the time we've spent together; just sleep now. Sleep." Eventually, the disgusting noises her daughter was making lulled into the peaceful slumber, that of a small child cradled in the nook of their parent's arms. The mother simply chuckled at her offspring's behavior. "Barkeep," she eventually called, "I'll take the room on the right. And to the rest of you hooligans," she turned to the rest of the room, "I'll pay you all handsomely to... evict whoever it is that occupies that room now." Another chuckle left her lips.
~~~
A gruff "hmph" came from Horace at the sight of Fion at his doorstep. The boy, while he figured him to be the best way to ensure a good life for his niece and adopted daughter, was at the very moment a nuisance. One that had to either be gotten rid of or... utilized. "Riley and I had-" he stopped, only briefly aware that he was about to tell the truth. The best way to get the boy to follow was to tell a truth, he devised, but how much of it to tell, and with how much of it... creatively added, was the real question for the man. "Riley ran off after us disagreeing... about you, specifically."
Fion raised an eyebrow at Horace's statement, shifting around within his cloak. Riley and her uncle arguing about him? That was...strange. He couldn't particularly imagine that he'd be a topic to argue over, unless her uncle had forbade her to take Bureau jobs again or something similar. Well, if they were going to bring him into their argument, he might as well get involved in it. "Wonderful. Not that I'm particularly interested in your familial drama, considering I've got enough of my own, but I suppose I might as well come along if you're running off to find her. Any idea where she went?"
"Ha," he chuckled as he was glad the boy had decided to come along; a smirk apparent. "No need to know where she's going; she had that bear of her's trailing behind the entire time; we just need to find which gate she left from and then follow the tracks. It shouldn't be hard. But first-" He disappeared back inside his small house, leaving Fion at the doorstep. The crashing of wood could be heard from where the boy stood, and by the time Horace had returned, a talentium axe -- the head of which being larger than both of theirs combined -- rested on his shoulders which was held by only his left hand. "Now, if there aren't any questions, let us be off," he said before pushing past the boy far ahead onto the streets.
Fion followed after Horace, impressed by the strength that it took for the man to hold that axe with but a single hand. "Lead the way. Shouldn't be hard to ask people if they saw a little boy with a bear come passing by."
"My sentiments exactly. However-" he gave Fion a sideways glance, "I'd cut the names, kid; unless that is you think you could go toe-to-toe with a veteran of the Talentless Strife." They had already reached the western gate. "Guard," the gruff man ha called out, "Have you seen a girl followed by a large bear at all?" The man in uniform thought for a moment before giving the pair a shrug of the shoulders. "No girl, but there was a little boy who matched your description not more than an-" He didn't have time to finish as Horace was already rushing past him. "Well then, if we hurry, we still may be able to catch her."
"Oh, look at that. Even the guard agreed with me." Fion deadpanned as he ran alongside Horace, smirking. They followed after the bear tracks on the ground, which seemed to just be a few hours old. Still, after a few minutes of running, Fion grew impatient. With magic, he could move far faster than Horace could, and there was really no point in staying alongside the man any longer. "I'm going on ahead." Fion said as an aura of wind blazed into existence around him. "Catch up with me later." And with that, he dashed on ahead, charging off faster than he thought Horace could follow.
"Quit fooling boy," Horace responded calmly as he seemingly popped into existence in front of the boy, barring any further progress with the handle of the axe. "I have reason to believe that... Riley has been consorting with that mother of hers, as of late, so running off on your own isn't exactly the greatest of ideas. Not to mention going at such speeds will make tracking impossible."
"What." Fion stopped in his tracks, looking rather irritated. "And you didn't mention this at first, why? I thought she just had some kind of tantrum about something. If you'd mentioned her mother first, I might've been more inclined to listen to you, you know." He sighed, resting one hand on his hip. "Fine, we'll do this your way. Next time, at least tell me if it's actually serious."
"Huh, and here Richard had implied that you had learned your manners when you were younger," Horace snarked in response; trying to turn his attention away from the reasons as to why he had concealed the other witch's involvement. "Generally, it goes without saying that the older, more experienced ones take the lead; I figured you knew that, but now that I'm remembering, you were kicked out of that military academy." He smirked; insulting the boy, no matter how much it might have fazed him, gave the veteran no small amount of pleasure. "Now, let's continue on before Riley does anything she may regret..."
Fion shrugged, letting the insult pass. "I graduated from the Academy of War two years early. Got kicked out of the actual military itself. Taking orders isn't really my thing, but fine. Lead the way. Not like Riley's known for making rational decisions anyway." He started following after Horace again, while silently wondering how the man knew Richard. The old manservant had been a notable fighter in the service of the Seyour family in decades past, so perhaps that had something to do with it. Regardless, he'd simply ask later. Right now, they still had to find that idiot before she did something stupid again.
Horace simply eyed the boy with his response. So he doesn't really know... However, that was something for another day. "Of course she's not; she is a woman after all," he commented before finally shutting up.
~
The tracks eventually stopped at what could only be called an over-sized metal grate over an equally-sized hole all dug into the side of a hill. Over this grand entrance-way was a simple sign, announcing the fact to any wayward traveler that happened to find the place that it was called "the Burrow". "Seems to be the place." Horace remarked casually as he approached the door.
"Oh for the love of-this damn hole?" Fion facepalmed. "Of course Riley comes to the most run-down little town in Dansila. Let's just go and find Riley already. Too many people have tried to stab me in this place for me to want to stay that long." He sighed, recalling past jobs he'd taken as a mercenary. For some reason, criminals always tried to run to the Burrow, and the place was a nightmare for anyone trying to fight alone in the underground caverns.
Horace cocked a brow with Fion's response, as he pried the grate open. It was surprising to him at first that the boy knew of such a filth-ridden little place -- he himself only knew of it from the Bureau's own files, and that he had driven Riley away from this place at almost all costs -- but it made sense that this boy who had been living as a mercenary had found this place; most of them do, in the end. "So, would you prefer I do the asking around, or would you like the honors? You may know more people here than I do."
Fion nodded, taking the lead. "Fine. I know a few people here. Going to cost me a bit of coin, though." And so he lead Horace through the underground town, knocking on several doors and handing money over to the people inside before asking about a little boy. Not many had seen Riley, but one informant finally pointed Fion and Horace in the direction of the tavern, to which Fion sighed. He should've just started there in the first place. After all, it wasn't as if this hole had any other attractions.
A few minutes later, the two entered the tavern, and Fion made straight for the bartender, putting some coins down on the bar counter. "You seen a little boy come by? Short, brown hair, carrying a polearm around?" He asked bluntly.
The bartender started to reach for the coins, but realized something and pushed the money back towards Fion. "Sorry, I don't give out information on customers."
Fion raised an eyebrow while pocketing his money. Strange. He'd asked this tavern keep for information on targets he'd gone after in the past, and the man had always delivered, even if they had been paying him for a room. Then again, Riley's mother was quite the powerful witch. It was more than likely that she'd convinced the man to keep quiet, whether it be through magic or sheer intimidation. Walking away from the bar counter, he turned to Horace. "Search the rooms. He's holding out on us."
"Aye, captain." Despite the joke, Horace believed the boy held the authority to be in an actual position of command in the military -- possibly with his own squad -- were it not for his already spotty past with such types.
He began kicking in the first door, despite any and all protests from the bartender as well as the unwelcoming glares of the other patrons. There was nothing to it, however, as the room was filled with but a single, unfamiliar man. "Well, let's check the next one..." And so he did. But when the bottom of his boot hit the wood, and the frame gave way-
~~~
Riley awoke with a start, and a pounding head, to the consoling touch of the witch, who sat in a bed-side chair. "So," she began with a start, "How was that for a signal, my dear?" She laughed, before turning her expression dour. "Now, be quick, some pests can be heard outside, and it'll be a nice exercise for your new powers."
A coy smile.
And, in the room next door, the man mumbled happily in his sleep, even as his door was splintered an unhinged with a resounding crash. "Mom."
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Tick said
It always seems like it's only a paragraph away from completion. Then collabs happen.I just got out of a real bad couple of weeks, work wise, so I'll be getting to that post tonight.
Why Tick? Why did you lie? D':
Then again, you had a busy week so I completely understand.
So what's everybody up to?
Dervish said
I am curious how the shit in the security room is going to play out. :D
We're nearly done (or at least we could possibly post a third part, but we need some heavy edits which only Tick/Grif could do, and I'm not exactly sure how much more content we're actually going to add).
Posted what I've written for now as I'm tired and need to work in the morning. I may edit in more later, or I may just imply that they finished their conversation and move on to keep you all wondering about Riley's past. Who knows?
"Hm, so much for a hovel," Riley remarked as she crossed one of the numerous bridges in the town known as "Burrow".
It was a bottomless, underground town, as far as the witch was concerned, with wooden doors poking out every now and again to indicate there being some business or residence and the aforementioned, interlacing bridges leading across to the spiraling, earthen ledges; which in themselves were wide enough to allow someone to walk beside a mule-drawn carriage, if they so desired. Dirt-covered faces scurried about, but they never so much crowded the place as they did inhabit it, and the noise was never above that of a conversational level. The fact that it was inhabited by almost nothing but beggars and thieves -- as she had discerned from a travelling merchant on her way there -- explained as to why she had never heard, or even read, of this impressive and, in her opinion at least, homey town. And it was all under a simple hillside.
Seems to be a rather simple town, this 'Burrow' is, she thought casually as she entered through the door entitled "Tavern". It was a simple enough place inside The Tavern , too. A single room with three doors in the back (two entitled with just "Room", and the other "Toilet"), a wooden bar built into the surrounding earthen walls, with the occasional stool, table, and chair littering the place in great number; and just like the bar, they were all wooden. Riley took a seat at one of the tables at the opposite, corner end of the room and right next to one of the "Rooms". She could feel the eyes of the bartender and a few of the patrons on her; no doubt from the sight of such a small girl carrying such a long weapon. A dainty (were it not for the dirt, and age apparent on her face) waitress, who looked to have little enthusiasm for her job, strolled over to where Riley sat, and asked, rather plainly: "Waddya want?" Thankfully -- after only ordering some juice and exchanging the necessary payment -- their interaction was kept short.
The witch was, plaintively, on alert; her eyes never once leaving the door, back out to the main hub of the Burrow, not even to blink. Her terracotta mug, still untouched, spun slowly in its spot on the table as she circled it in her enclosed hands. She was nervous and unsure of what to expect from someone she had only properly met less than a month ago. Riley could feel the bags under her eyes from her restless night before, and the untold amount of crying she had done as she fled her home. All she wanted at that very moment, was some small peace; a peace which only sleep could bring. "What harm could it really do," she muttered as she gave in to the baser desire of sleep to her own security. Besides, she would hear the creaking the door makes when Cygna came in.
...
"Hello, my daughter." Riley jolted at the sound of her mother's voice; her hand immediately over her shoulder to grab the pole-arm strapped to her back. It couldn't have been more than a few moments since she dozed off; how could the witch opposite of her sneak up like that so easily on her? "I am glad you are alone; nothing more bothersome than a girl who doesn't abide by her mother's wishes," the scarred witch continued on, chuckling at the end of her statement. "But do relax dear," she said eyeing the point at which Riley's hand met her weapon narrowly; bringing a porcelain teacup to her lips as she did, "You'll add the years on worrying about the worst-possible scenario all the time."
A moment passed between mother and daughter with the younger simply starring, wild-eyed, as the older continued to sip on her brew, whatever it was. "So," Riley finally said, "I've spoken with my uncle, and all I was able to get from him was that my father was a mage... But there's more, much more from what you've implied. What is it? What exactly do you know that he doesn't?"
"Well first of all, he wasn't a mage, or any sort of magically talented individual for that matter," Cygna said casually, studying her daughter's face for her reaction; something she had a hard time hiding. Riley wanted to protest, but the note at which her mother had finished meant there was obviously more. "-he was merely... Possessed; by a demon like the one birthed at our meeting at the volcano, no less," a smile came across her face, "Strange how such things work, hm?" She was obviously implicating that the two had a connection, despite there being so.
Riley was dumbstruck. Her accusation was nothing short of crazy... but it would fit in with what her uncle had said -- that her father hadn't been born with magic -- and... Was she really in a position to question the woman who had lived with him for nearly five years? She downed her simple soft cocktail in a single swoop, and, in a gasp of breath, hollered at the waitress. "Give me a bottle of the strongest stuff you've got, on her," she pointed at her mother, who could only smirk at her daughter's actions. "Now you," Riley said, returning her attentions, "Continue. Everything you know about him, and who- why I am."
It was a bottomless, underground town, as far as the witch was concerned, with wooden doors poking out every now and again to indicate there being some business or residence and the aforementioned, interlacing bridges leading across to the spiraling, earthen ledges; which in themselves were wide enough to allow someone to walk beside a mule-drawn carriage, if they so desired. Dirt-covered faces scurried about, but they never so much crowded the place as they did inhabit it, and the noise was never above that of a conversational level. The fact that it was inhabited by almost nothing but beggars and thieves -- as she had discerned from a travelling merchant on her way there -- explained as to why she had never heard, or even read, of this impressive and, in her opinion at least, homey town. And it was all under a simple hillside.
Seems to be a rather simple town, this 'Burrow' is, she thought casually as she entered through the door entitled "Tavern". It was a simple enough place inside The Tavern , too. A single room with three doors in the back (two entitled with just "Room", and the other "Toilet"), a wooden bar built into the surrounding earthen walls, with the occasional stool, table, and chair littering the place in great number; and just like the bar, they were all wooden. Riley took a seat at one of the tables at the opposite, corner end of the room and right next to one of the "Rooms". She could feel the eyes of the bartender and a few of the patrons on her; no doubt from the sight of such a small girl carrying such a long weapon. A dainty (were it not for the dirt, and age apparent on her face) waitress, who looked to have little enthusiasm for her job, strolled over to where Riley sat, and asked, rather plainly: "Waddya want?" Thankfully -- after only ordering some juice and exchanging the necessary payment -- their interaction was kept short.
The witch was, plaintively, on alert; her eyes never once leaving the door, back out to the main hub of the Burrow, not even to blink. Her terracotta mug, still untouched, spun slowly in its spot on the table as she circled it in her enclosed hands. She was nervous and unsure of what to expect from someone she had only properly met less than a month ago. Riley could feel the bags under her eyes from her restless night before, and the untold amount of crying she had done as she fled her home. All she wanted at that very moment, was some small peace; a peace which only sleep could bring. "What harm could it really do," she muttered as she gave in to the baser desire of sleep to her own security. Besides, she would hear the creaking the door makes when Cygna came in.
...
"Hello, my daughter." Riley jolted at the sound of her mother's voice; her hand immediately over her shoulder to grab the pole-arm strapped to her back. It couldn't have been more than a few moments since she dozed off; how could the witch opposite of her sneak up like that so easily on her? "I am glad you are alone; nothing more bothersome than a girl who doesn't abide by her mother's wishes," the scarred witch continued on, chuckling at the end of her statement. "But do relax dear," she said eyeing the point at which Riley's hand met her weapon narrowly; bringing a porcelain teacup to her lips as she did, "You'll add the years on worrying about the worst-possible scenario all the time."
A moment passed between mother and daughter with the younger simply starring, wild-eyed, as the older continued to sip on her brew, whatever it was. "So," Riley finally said, "I've spoken with my uncle, and all I was able to get from him was that my father was a mage... But there's more, much more from what you've implied. What is it? What exactly do you know that he doesn't?"
"Well first of all, he wasn't a mage, or any sort of magically talented individual for that matter," Cygna said casually, studying her daughter's face for her reaction; something she had a hard time hiding. Riley wanted to protest, but the note at which her mother had finished meant there was obviously more. "-he was merely... Possessed; by a demon like the one birthed at our meeting at the volcano, no less," a smile came across her face, "Strange how such things work, hm?" She was obviously implicating that the two had a connection, despite there being so.
Riley was dumbstruck. Her accusation was nothing short of crazy... but it would fit in with what her uncle had said -- that her father hadn't been born with magic -- and... Was she really in a position to question the woman who had lived with him for nearly five years? She downed her simple soft cocktail in a single swoop, and, in a gasp of breath, hollered at the waitress. "Give me a bottle of the strongest stuff you've got, on her," she pointed at her mother, who could only smirk at her daughter's actions. "Now you," Riley said, returning her attentions, "Continue. Everything you know about him, and who- why I am."
Despite the heresy this may be, I've decided to just assume that Shepard, and all the other major characters of the main trilogy never happen in the Nova universe.
Dervish said
And Shadow Broker post is up! Yay!
Roland shall be forever at the butt end of these practical jokes, and shall always permit as much. Carry on. :'D
Voltaire said
*sniffle* I... I had to kill Mordin... He left me no choice.
Well, unless you followed one very specific path, with one sort-of counter-intuitive choice at the end of Tuchanka, his death is inevitable.
Also! Working on the collab now team of four. No promises as to when it'll be done, though.
Seeing the look of disbelief spread across his niece's face, Horace started with his explanation again.
"Okay, look, I'm... actually heir to a noble house in Illiserev... Your father and I were the only two children in a long line of magic users long before talentium was even known to exist. You understand the implications, don't you?" Riley, still not quite sure whether if what her uncle was telling her was true or not, spoke up in confusion. "But if he was able to use magi-"
"-that... wasn't always the case, you see," he interrupted. "Neither of us was born with magic, and it was never really revealed as such to our family's 'friends'. Because of this, we were treated harshly when not being paraded about like show dogs, and some days our mother would deprave us of the basic necessities for human life..." Horace swallowed air before continuing again.
"Your father grew up rather meek, and apathetic to everything; me, his little brother, included. I grew up resenting him for letting our parents treat us the way they did, and received the lash more times than I can count because of my abrasive behavior to all of them. My only saving grace was Nana-”
“But you probably don't want to hear about her..." he trailed off. "Well, if she's relevant..." Riley conceded.
He sighed, scratching his chin before resuming. "She was my nursemaid, my only saving; one I now figure my brother didn't have being under the direct care of our mother. She taught me how to use an axe -- her being something of a crusader back in Astopol -- and put me on a better track of life than I was probably already on." Taking a pause, and a seat, he started again. "Anyway, my brother had.. changed from the boy he once was into something... vicious. He was manipulative of everyone around him, abusive of the servants, and where he had once treated me with indifference, he now treated me with disdain, scorn. I could almost hear him say 'I'm better than you, and we both know it.' Perhaps most importantly though was, he could now cast spells that were on par with our mother. He was now hailed as a prodigy and late bloomer by everyone; even if I knew it was some sort of trick, and that he was as magical as a thumbtack. Nana was the only one keeping me from lodging my training weapon right into his blasted skull back in those days.
"Eventually, he left. It was announced as some grand journey to find himself, and to hone his powers. There was a gala, small festivities... it was all overkill, to be honest. The day he walked through those doors was something of a weight off my shoulders, and something I won't forget. As we were seeing him off, he had approached me and said 'Goodbye; I'll truly miss you, brother'. It had been...sincere, not like almost every other interaction we had had since he had come into his magical ability.
“The days after that were, despite what I had presumed, much worse. The bickering, scheming, all the games that my family involved themselves in eventually lead into infighting, and many of their deaths. The day that the estate was raided -- the day when every person who suffered because of our family’s instability became fed up with them -- was the day Nana had me flee for my life instead of fight. She had told me that ‘I was better than this,’ that ‘there was much more to my life than noble squabbles.’ So, I left, with Nana separating herself from me, as I Iater learned, to cover my tracks from any sort of pursuers.
“Living on my own was difficult, at first. I was moving about, working hard labor for farmers who would hire me. It was a foreign experience for me, but rewarding to its own end. Eventually, I ended up in Dansilla, where I met an older man who would only allow me to refer to him as ‘Champ’. Champ was… well, crazy. Had me fishing with my toes, weaving with thistles of grass, drawing strange geometric circles in his fiel-”
“Uncle, how does this relate to my father… At all?” Riley asked puffing her cheeks in annoyance. “I’m getting to that; be patient.” Horace replied while staring daggers at her.
“Champ, as I had said, was older, and after having lived with him for a few months for the easy food and board, he died. Passed away in his sleep while I slept in the room adjacent to him. All he had left was a note saying that I could keep the farm as long as I took care of it like I had him. Picturesque, I know, and it was for awhile as I set the place up as my own, and even after the two of you had shown up. I had had my first harvest, had made a rather large profit on my own, and had begun looking for someone to share my life with; even if that last one wasn’t as big of a success as my other ventures.” He stifled a chuckle into a cough as he noticed the sour look the witch was giving him. “When your father showed up with you in his arms, I was dumbstruck; inclined to slam my door in his face and level a weapon in his head if he refused to leave… But, you were there -- still a toddler -- so in the end I couldn’t.
“I invited him in, and he explained -- rather kindly and unlike the way I had grown accustomed to him speaking -- much of what you already know. He had been kidnapped by that dastard witch, forced to have you under the compulsion of a curse, and has hunted you since then. The only thing that we’ve lied to you about was our own origins; we were never actually from Dansilla, and your father was no sort of scholar that had to hide after an expedition gone wrong. We decided it was best you didn’t know of our murky past, so that’s all we had lied about. You know everything else… What exactly prompted thi-”
“But-but, there has to be more! Mother had said-” Having felt conflicted as Horace had finished his tale, Riley had finally burst to her feet, wanting answers, and feeling that there was more that he should know. Her uncle’s face twisted in some form of anger and disgust. “‘Mother’? Riley, you can’t honestly be talking with that witch, let alone believing her!” He himself sprung to his feet, grasping her shoulders with an iron grip. “Riley, what all have I done for you?”
“Uncle, you’re hurting me.” Her voice had almost caught.
“What all have I sacrificed just so you can have some semblance of a normal life?!” His face was red and so very close to hers.
“Horace, let go!!” A tremor ran through her.
“You don’t care, do you? Do you!? You’re just going to throw it all away to talk to someone who at any moment could harm you -- KILL you -- just because you felt like it!!?” His grip tightened, and her body began to shake.
“Please, jus-just let me go… I want to leave.” She could taste salt at the corners of her mouth; her face felt hot. She couldn’t tell; was she crying?
“No! No, I won’t! Not after everything I have done for you I won’t! If I do-”
“Void Summon: Ursine!!” The energy burst into the room, and the being that was always by her side sprung into action, but hesitated when it was a familiar face that he had been snarling at. Riley circled the room toward the door to the outside., tripping over her own feet as she did. “Just leave me alone, Horace. If-if you don’t,” she gulped, wild-eyed, “I’ll kill you.”
And so she fled, tears streaming behind her and flecking her trailing summon as they went. Not aimlessly, but to the outer walls. She knew where she had to go, and despite the terror that was building in her chest, she was going to see her mother.
"Okay, look, I'm... actually heir to a noble house in Illiserev... Your father and I were the only two children in a long line of magic users long before talentium was even known to exist. You understand the implications, don't you?" Riley, still not quite sure whether if what her uncle was telling her was true or not, spoke up in confusion. "But if he was able to use magi-"
"-that... wasn't always the case, you see," he interrupted. "Neither of us was born with magic, and it was never really revealed as such to our family's 'friends'. Because of this, we were treated harshly when not being paraded about like show dogs, and some days our mother would deprave us of the basic necessities for human life..." Horace swallowed air before continuing again.
"Your father grew up rather meek, and apathetic to everything; me, his little brother, included. I grew up resenting him for letting our parents treat us the way they did, and received the lash more times than I can count because of my abrasive behavior to all of them. My only saving grace was Nana-”
“But you probably don't want to hear about her..." he trailed off. "Well, if she's relevant..." Riley conceded.
He sighed, scratching his chin before resuming. "She was my nursemaid, my only saving; one I now figure my brother didn't have being under the direct care of our mother. She taught me how to use an axe -- her being something of a crusader back in Astopol -- and put me on a better track of life than I was probably already on." Taking a pause, and a seat, he started again. "Anyway, my brother had.. changed from the boy he once was into something... vicious. He was manipulative of everyone around him, abusive of the servants, and where he had once treated me with indifference, he now treated me with disdain, scorn. I could almost hear him say 'I'm better than you, and we both know it.' Perhaps most importantly though was, he could now cast spells that were on par with our mother. He was now hailed as a prodigy and late bloomer by everyone; even if I knew it was some sort of trick, and that he was as magical as a thumbtack. Nana was the only one keeping me from lodging my training weapon right into his blasted skull back in those days.
"Eventually, he left. It was announced as some grand journey to find himself, and to hone his powers. There was a gala, small festivities... it was all overkill, to be honest. The day he walked through those doors was something of a weight off my shoulders, and something I won't forget. As we were seeing him off, he had approached me and said 'Goodbye; I'll truly miss you, brother'. It had been...sincere, not like almost every other interaction we had had since he had come into his magical ability.
“The days after that were, despite what I had presumed, much worse. The bickering, scheming, all the games that my family involved themselves in eventually lead into infighting, and many of their deaths. The day that the estate was raided -- the day when every person who suffered because of our family’s instability became fed up with them -- was the day Nana had me flee for my life instead of fight. She had told me that ‘I was better than this,’ that ‘there was much more to my life than noble squabbles.’ So, I left, with Nana separating herself from me, as I Iater learned, to cover my tracks from any sort of pursuers.
“Living on my own was difficult, at first. I was moving about, working hard labor for farmers who would hire me. It was a foreign experience for me, but rewarding to its own end. Eventually, I ended up in Dansilla, where I met an older man who would only allow me to refer to him as ‘Champ’. Champ was… well, crazy. Had me fishing with my toes, weaving with thistles of grass, drawing strange geometric circles in his fiel-”
“Uncle, how does this relate to my father… At all?” Riley asked puffing her cheeks in annoyance. “I’m getting to that; be patient.” Horace replied while staring daggers at her.
“Champ, as I had said, was older, and after having lived with him for a few months for the easy food and board, he died. Passed away in his sleep while I slept in the room adjacent to him. All he had left was a note saying that I could keep the farm as long as I took care of it like I had him. Picturesque, I know, and it was for awhile as I set the place up as my own, and even after the two of you had shown up. I had had my first harvest, had made a rather large profit on my own, and had begun looking for someone to share my life with; even if that last one wasn’t as big of a success as my other ventures.” He stifled a chuckle into a cough as he noticed the sour look the witch was giving him. “When your father showed up with you in his arms, I was dumbstruck; inclined to slam my door in his face and level a weapon in his head if he refused to leave… But, you were there -- still a toddler -- so in the end I couldn’t.
“I invited him in, and he explained -- rather kindly and unlike the way I had grown accustomed to him speaking -- much of what you already know. He had been kidnapped by that dastard witch, forced to have you under the compulsion of a curse, and has hunted you since then. The only thing that we’ve lied to you about was our own origins; we were never actually from Dansilla, and your father was no sort of scholar that had to hide after an expedition gone wrong. We decided it was best you didn’t know of our murky past, so that’s all we had lied about. You know everything else… What exactly prompted thi-”
“But-but, there has to be more! Mother had said-” Having felt conflicted as Horace had finished his tale, Riley had finally burst to her feet, wanting answers, and feeling that there was more that he should know. Her uncle’s face twisted in some form of anger and disgust. “‘Mother’? Riley, you can’t honestly be talking with that witch, let alone believing her!” He himself sprung to his feet, grasping her shoulders with an iron grip. “Riley, what all have I done for you?”
“Uncle, you’re hurting me.” Her voice had almost caught.
“What all have I sacrificed just so you can have some semblance of a normal life?!” His face was red and so very close to hers.
“Horace, let go!!” A tremor ran through her.
“You don’t care, do you? Do you!? You’re just going to throw it all away to talk to someone who at any moment could harm you -- KILL you -- just because you felt like it!!?” His grip tightened, and her body began to shake.
“Please, jus-just let me go… I want to leave.” She could taste salt at the corners of her mouth; her face felt hot. She couldn’t tell; was she crying?
“No! No, I won’t! Not after everything I have done for you I won’t! If I do-”
“Void Summon: Ursine!!” The energy burst into the room, and the being that was always by her side sprung into action, but hesitated when it was a familiar face that he had been snarling at. Riley circled the room toward the door to the outside., tripping over her own feet as she did. “Just leave me alone, Horace. If-if you don’t,” she gulped, wild-eyed, “I’ll kill you.”
And so she fled, tears streaming behind her and flecking her trailing summon as they went. Not aimlessly, but to the outer walls. She knew where she had to go, and despite the terror that was building in her chest, she was going to see her mother.
It's how he's referenced by pretty much any gaming media site, not just forums.
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