This War Claims Another

[RoamingRonin 635]

 

Marc of White enters the Under-City of Ruswick, tired from the days toil, and of warring and deceit in general. So it came as some surprise to him that when he ventured around the city streets of Ruswick, that he happened upon the scene of a crime, one committed within the closely guarded walls. 

 

The house of Ryia von Savoia, also known to the council and people in the city as “Ruminating Ryia”, had been seemingly busted into. A curiosity pulled at him that beckoned him into the doorway. The lock had been busted clean off, and parts of the doorway had been splintered. 

 

 

Stepping through into the living quarters, Marc surveyed the scene. A painting had been slashed through, signifying that there must have been some sort of fight, and caused him to search further into the warrior’s living quarters. 

 

 

In his mind, he wondered who could have gotten the jump on his compatriot. She had been known to keep her head on a swivel. 

 

Eyes scan the living quarters over and over, trying to find some indication that his friend was alive, but so far, the prognosis was not good. Behind the mask, his face lie deadpan, and in his mind, he was trying to work out what might have happened. 

 

Over to the side, the bed she had kept her wolf in sat empty, and the items she had kept in her pantry had been shaken and stirred, some jars broken and cracked, further leading him to believe that there had been a struggle that had ensued while he was away. Naturally, he began to gravitate further in, noticing the bedroom, which had some blood peeking through the doorway. One hand outstretched, and pushed the door open enough so he could witness the horror that room withheld. 

 

 

Blood painted the walls with messy streaks, and blood tainted the white sheets that were wrapped tightly upon her mattress. Blood had pooled on the floor by her bedside, and caused his stomach to turn. So much blood. Elven or otherwise, no one could withstand losing that much blood.

 

“Dammit, Ryia.” He cursed her, becoming angry with the situation at hand. It seemed like his world was coming to a collapse, as his friends were being hunted down and killed. More deaths to add to the tally. 

 

 

Over at the other side of the room, he noticed a book. Pulling himself away from the scene, he scooped it up, and opened it to the last page written in it. 

 

 

What he found had confounded him. It didn’t make any sense at the time. Perhaps it didn’t need to. 

 

He stuffed the book away in a small pouch on his belt, and sighed. Another friend lost to him, taken by the war that had become synonymous with the Ruswick name. But he still harbored hope that she was out there. Perhaps she wasn’t captured or worse, killed. It was a fleeting hope, but one he felt the need to look into.

 

Taking the book with him, he exited the house and shut the door. 

 

There was work that needed to be done. 

[HadvarAvMitteland 557]

Stefan would look down in anguish, maybe he knew knowledge others did not. In his French accent he notes, “Ryia? She is no more...Ryia? She is...different.”

 

Stefan Onfroi would place the note into the muddy ground that surrounded Darrowmere, going back to join the other Lorraine Knights, chuckling at the news with an inhuman sort of humour. He would have known Ryia through old friends such as Isla and Swifty Sam (deceased).

[Zacho 2177]

Moved to The Great Library. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.

 

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