[PK] THE BURNT BARROW

[voltic 67]

 

The Burnt Barrow

 

---

 

As Lukas gazed out the gates of Rittersburg across the bridge, his eyes locked with his brother, who returned upon his mount from his ventures to the North, a smile lit up his face. As the two brothers reunited, a rare embrace soon enveloped them. It was not often the two bickering brothers showed each other affection, but it seemed the time away warranted it.

 

“Care for a stroll?” Justinyn asked him, and he returned with a brief nod. “No need to fret, Justinyn, nothing will ambush us - they call me darkspawn repellent.” He jested, although it was partially true - no darkspawn had dared to cross paths with the witty Ruthern in all his years. “Similar to your love life, hm?” Justinyn dryly jabbed at his brother as he held his flask of Carrion- a jab that was met only with indignation. 

 

As the two exchanged stories and drank, they approached the outskirts of the Archduchy of Alba - the once peaceful tone of the chirping birds and nature that surrounded them as if the tune of the world was cut by a knife- the chaotic ringing of the town’s bells and the screams of women and children conveyed the new tune. A gust of wind soon followed, the trees bellowed in the wind, bent over by the gust, and a shadow soon swallowed the land in darkness as it blotted out the sun's rays. 

 

The shadow dipped beneath the clouds to reveal itself, resplendent silver scales caught the light of the sun as the magnificently large creature, accompanied by its babes, engulfed the skies of Alba. An adult Wyvern. The creatures soared forward, spitting malignant flame and terror across the town. 

 

Lukas and his brother quickly rushed to the scene, arriving at the camp stationed outside of the city’s walls - and beneath the circling wyvern. He quickly drew the shield from off his back, and Justinyn drew his bow - it was like they had practiced as boys. “Cover me, aye?” Justinyn reminded him, “Lest we be burnt to a crisp.” – “Oh, please, Justinyn. Just hit your shot.” He joked, it seemed the young Ruthern never lost his humor - even in the midst of battle. 

 

As Justinyn nocked arrows into his longbow and shot at the dragon, to little avail other than chipping away at the many thick scales that shielded the flying worm. 

 

“Damnit.” His brother cursed as his arrows bounced off the hide of the wyrmling. 

 

“I’ll get up closer, Justinyn, you stay here and provide cover to the men with your bow.” Lukas said as he drew his sword, shield still in hand as he pressed forward to the wyrmling on the bridge set ablaze. 

 

As the knights surrounded the wyrmling and other valiant warriors hurled projectiles at the wyrmling - disoriented, the baby wyvern stumbled in its flight and swooped beneath the second bridge upon which Lukas stood. As Lukas’ eyes traced the darting wyrmling from the opposite side of the bridge, to his own, he glanced down at the creature beneath him. For a moment, time stopped in his head. He remembered the moment he ripped his elder brother’s writ of employment into the river - then soon after diving from the imperial bridge into the river. And once more Lukas did dive time seemed to have stopped as Lukas soared, but this time on top of a wyvern - briefly grabbing hold of the tail of the creature before being thrashed off as it whipped its tail ferociously. His body was flung like a rag doll and crashed against the edge of the moat. 

 

Concussed. Dazed. The world around him was distorted, and his head pounded. He slowly rose and his senses soon followed, yet still heavily impaired. He raised his sword and, once more with those around him, confronted the wyrmling head-on. 

 

Then... 

 

The skies darkened as flames spewed from the heavens, engulfing those the entire moat. The wyvern's searing breath washed over Lukas in waves, his chainmail melted under the scorching heat warping around his skin- forming an unholy amalgamation of steel, blood, and bone. Despite it all, Lukas swung his sword with violence, wading deeper into the inferno. He refused to yield. Alas his movements slowed, then stilled, and he sank into the riverbed as the metal cooled, fixing his corpse into place-  sealing him into a monolith of iron and flesh. As Lukas looked upon the sky, his eyes grew heavy. His vision blurred... 

 

 

---

 

 

“Lukas!” a familiar voice called out. “You're dumb, up to no good, useless— that was my only writ of appointment you tore up!”

A grin formed on Ruthern's face, his vision cleared - as he was faced with the fury of his elder brother. He had already tuned out the barrage of curses his brother hurled at him, nudging his younger brother, Karl, who stood beside him. He shrugged, turned, and dove from the bridge into the river underneath to fetch the torn paper. The feeling of the cold river water was quickly replaced by an intense burning sensation.

 

 

---

 

CLASH! A lance bashed against his platemail from the opposing mounted knight. “A good show,” Cesari muttered with a smirk under his helm as he got off to help the young Ruthern back up before readying himself. “Another one?” Lukas asked Cesari a question that was met with a smirk across the field. As he bore down with his opponent, he clutched his lance and lowered it, then hit the reins of his horse. He closed his eyes for a moment as he lowered his lance and rode towards Cesari – hoping for the best. 

 

 

---

 

“I’ll adopt you,” Lukas said, offering a hand to a young boy who was berated by a pair of elves. Justinyn shot him a glare, but he merely returned a collected thumbs-up to his brother as if to reassure him. “Adoption is free, aye?” He followed up, then shook the hands of the pair of elves.

“I’m an uncle now?” Justinyn asked him, rolling his eyes at another one of his brother’s never-ending schemes. 

 

And then he enacted his scheme, “You own a business, don’t you?” He asked the pair of elves, “Wouldn’t you like an extra hand?” He pitched to them, and as the elves agreed, he continued. “A hundred minas for my adopted son here - the best hand you could ask for.” 

 

It was a quick handshake, and then he tossed half the coin to his brother. “See?”

 

 

---

He had just turned of age and celebrated in the bar with his brothers. Justinyn was busy entertaining a noblewoman, whilst he sat across from Karl, in boredom. He chugged his mug of Carrion Black and then hurled it at his younger brother’s face seemingly unprovoked. 

 

The two rose, and a brawl commenced within the tavern. Blow after blow, the two spawn of Ruther duked it out in a bloody battle of attrition - ending it with a decisive hook to Karl’s chin. 

 

He was victorious once more, the score was 2 - 0 against his younger brother. As Lukas offered a hand to his brother, he said, “It will come with age.”

 

 

---

 

He gazed up at the plentiful stars in the night sky from beneath their tree. He nudged his brother, “Think we’ll ever have a home?” 

 

“A home? This tree is our home, Lukas.” Karl responded quickly. It was true, it was all the trio knew of - the bleak shelter a tree offered was what they considered a home for a majority of their life. 

 

Lukas was content, smiled, and continued to gaze.

 

“One day,” his elder brother muttered as he turned on his side away from the two and went to sleep. 

 

As the words rang in his head, he too shut his eyes with a dream - one day they’d find their place.

 

 

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[!] A will is attached

 

To my kin,

 

Please read this aloud for my illiterate brother, Justinyn, for his own sanity. I’m fairly certain my demise will be unexpected - it is only right for a man like myself. Just know that everything I did was because I wanted more for this family. 

 

Have no pity - only pity those who did not know me. That’s the real tragedy of it all, aye?

 

Farewell,

Lukas

 

---

@GMRO @Masouri@Cranekiss@MotherLay@MonteGiant@wibeaux@ContestedSnow

 

[Masouri 2735]

Justinyn loaded a case of Carrion Black onto his mount, quietly without disturbing the rest of the camp, and pulled himself up on the saddle and kicked off from Ghaestenwald. He knew where he was going - and soon enough, there it was: the tree. The tree his brothers had once called home. He sat beneath it as he always had, the night stars above him, and opened the first bottle.

[MonteGiant 891]

Cesari fell to his knees upon the sight of his friend falling in battle against that Wyrm, his armor clattering against the burned mud of the moat of Alba, scarred into ceramic by the Wyrm's flame. His blade falling into the dirt, as he spotted the molten creation of that Ruthern armor. 

 

He held solemn visage, and retreated to his home, clasping against a mug of rum, drinking through the pain. . . A toast to Lukas Var Ruthern.

[GMRO 6186]

Ailred signed the Hussiyaran for his little cousin. “He’d always been the brighter of the two between his brother. I fear for the future without him.”

[Cranekiss 2]

Anya sat alone at the dinner table, as moonlight filtered in silver stripes through the window. She was stock-still, staring intensely at the empty seat across from her, as if there still was something — or someone — there with her. "...Damn it, Lukas..." she gritted out after a long bout of silence, the corners of her eyes beginning to glisten, as her voice choked with emotion. "...Why'd you have to..?"