You’ve just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As you look around, your gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. You duck and step into a tattered tent, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the tent, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town? she begins, then pauses to study your face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a cushion, “Tell me your story.”
“Expecting me? I didn’t realize my presence was one of expectancy.”
Svend lowered his gaze, offering a smile of gratitude as his build sat.
“My story? My story is still beginning, but sure; I can tell you everything so far.”
He crosses his legs, his posture is straight as he beams a polite attitude. Svend would rest his hands on his thighs. He exhales a heavy sigh, his brows beginning to frown as the topic of his past is on the table.
“I was born the eldest of three siblings, a big role to play.”
Svend seems to push past the burden of his sorrow feelings, forging a smile on his face as talked.
“I am Svend Blackwood, the eldest son of Bard and Colette Blackwood. They were quite a pair, a gift even. They loved each other heavily, like there wasn’t going to be a next day. The household was never dull despite us having no money. My childhood was good, a blessing. I remember the field me and my siblings would play in. The middle sibling’s name is Darnell, and the youngest is Gael. We would chase, play, and sing in that field. It was like any other day, all of us in that field. You’d never expect anything to go wrong, until it did. We lived in a village of Dark Elf folk. On the outskirts of a village came a commotion. Me and my siblings didn’t pay mind to it, but our parents did. A wagon had seemingly broken down on the path at the edge of our town, a group of farfolk surrounded it. They talked amongst themselves loudly, complaining of a broken hinge on a wheel. My parents were of good nature, they would commonly do things for others. They cared about their family, their village, and even strangers. My father noticed the commotion first, rushing over to see what he could do to help. My mother gently followed after him. A tall, husky man jumped out from the wagon. An intense air followed him, but he talked with an eerie smile. He extended his hand towards my father and introduced himself as Benedict. He explained the situation of their broken wagon. My father shouted for all of us to help them, so we began walking over. The two began to talk, with my mother at my fathers side. The men began to circle them. It was clear the atmosphere was shifting. Benedict swiftly pulled a knife from his side, grabbing my mother with his other hand and dragging her back. He placed his knife at her throat. He still spoke calmly, with that damned smile on his face. He demanded my father give him everything he owned. I stopped in my tracks, we all stood at a distance; helpless. I placed my hand on Gael’s chest to keep her from walking forward, shuffling Darnell to stand behind me. That man named Benedict, I won’t ever forget his face. My father was also gentle, he looked back at us and gave us a reassuring face. His expression told us everything would be okay. Yet my breath was still escaping me.”
His chin begins to dip as the story continues, his once open palms ball into fists; his eyes begin to travel.
“My father told them we were poor, but they didn’t care. They wanted everything we had, even when it was little. I knew if they were going to take our things, we’d suffer harshly that winter. I suppose my father knew that too, or else he wouldn’t have done what he did. He told them calmly to follow him to our house and he would give up what he had. For a brief moment, Benedict had lowered his guard; dropping the knife just slightly. My father acted almost instantly, dashing toward him and punching him in the jaw. I don’t know what he was thinking. Sure, he was big and rugged; but there were at least ten men. He told my mother to run, and as soon as those words left his mouth; everything fell apart. Benedict staggered momentarily, but bounced back up and stabbed my father repeatedly. My mother was pushed to the ground, she couldn’t get through the maniacs. I picked up my sister at that moment. Mother looked over to my bleeding father, her face dropping as horror grew in. She screamed a coiling screech at the sight. The village began to gather due to all the noise, more and more were coming out of their houses to see what was happening. I guess Benedict deemed my parents and our village not worth it anymore. I guess they didn’t care about ruining a family.”
His face was now completely lowered, his shoulders beginning to tense and ache. Svend had never told anyone this, and had never let himself grieve. He had to go forward, and hardly let himself relive the pass. Yet this woman's company nurtured him. Maybe in some way, she reminded him of his mother. The type to welcome a complete stranger.
“Benedict had grown an angry expression, not particularly happy about things not going his way. He ushered his men to finish the job. A large man of the group dragged his hammer towards my mother, picking it up over his shoulder and slamming it on my mothers head. I did everything I could to shield those horrors from my siblings. I held Gael and dug her face into my chest, I screamed at Darnell to go back inside the house. He ran, and he ran fast. I wanted to run too, but my feet only moved back a few inches. I couldn’t look away. My eyes were filling like a dry river. I wanted to scream, but I was scared they’d notice me and my sister. My whole body flinched when the hammer went down, and I finally blinked. I ran inside whilst carrying Gael. I rushed inside the house, trying to catch the air that wasn’t in my lungs. My body was in pain, and my heart stung.”
He was still looking down, Svend bit his lip; He no longer wanted to be that scared little boy anymore. He looked up at the woman, his face now emanating a sense of pride.
“From then on, I was never going to let anything affect my family. I was never going to let them be hurt by that same pain again. I did what I needed to do so I could provide for them. There was never a day they went hungry.”
Svends head shifted slightly to the side, a smile beginning to lift the corner of his mouth.
“I worked a lot of jobs, even the bad ones. I eventually got in with the wrong kind of crowd; but all the right kinds of money. They made me steal for them, and I was good at it. For the most part anyways.”
He would front a sheepish smile.
“Sometimes I found myself coming home with roughed up clothes with a past of bloodshed. My siblings never questioned me, quite the opposite. They were the light I was fighting for. I taught them how to stitch, medicate, and bandage my wounds. I even taught them how to fight. I just wanted them to be prepared for all the parts of the world they didn’t know yet.”
Svend was never confident he raised them correctly, but he hoped he had done a proper job.
“There was one gig, stealing a family heirloom worth more than anything I’d dreamed of. I accepted it harshly. I was hungry to let my family live comfortably. It was a mistake to say the least. Everything went wrong. From the information, the whereabouts, to the execution.”
He shook his head, crossing his arms across his chest as he sighed.
“Eventually I found myself at a dead end, with a knight of some sort blocking my way out. He held a sword, and he was big. Let’s just say he didn’t let me out easily. He stabbed my stomach on my way out.”
His hand traveled towards his abdomen, his palm resting on the scar that would rest there.
“I barely made it home. I actually passed out on my porch. I don’t actually remember much. I remember the pain of my brother stitching my wound though. Not so gentle hands he has there.”
His face scrunched awkwardly at remembering the vivid moment, a half smile emerging.
“I knew we had to leave after that. I failed my crew, and I made that posh family angry. I was pretty sure they had someone on my tail too. So I did what I needed to do. I got my family and our belongings, and we left. We’ve been traveling for three years now. This is the last stop before the city. I thought I should at least tell someone about my life, before I completely forget it and start my new one. So, weirdly enough; this was good for me.” Svend knew what had to be done. He would never be that fourteen year old boy watching his parents die in vain. Never again. He got himself to his feet and pivoted towards the exit, he was halfway out before he turned his head back.
“Thank you.”
He would exit, leaving the worst part of himself behind in that tent.
(Bard, Colette, and Benedict are all NPC)
