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Within the Failorian woods, a figure tries to rest in the black of the night. Despite the darkness around him, Grimm refuses to get a fire going. Not only does he know the liability he’s bringing on himself by creating one, but he also knows that- *SNAP* …someone’s been following him the past few days. He’s been paying attention to the noises and behaviors of this unseen figure as he feigns ignorance, attempting to figure out who would tail him for so long. It’s not Mori, they wouldn’t track a single person this long. Is it someone wanting ransom? Whoever it is, they must want me badly to be doing this for days on end. *CRUNCH* Strange, the sounds of leaves underfoot permeate the air. Grimm tightens his grip on his sword, rising to his feet in preparation. “If you’re here for me, at least tell me your name, so I know what to put on your epitaph.” A voice echoes through the forest. Masculine, that’s for sure-but still young, that much is for sure. “Might as well make it for the one that needs it, Grimm.” The footsteps grow louder, as Grimm’s eyes dart around the scattered trees, scanning for any movement. The approaching figure has the shroud of darkness for cover, but Grimm can track the movements through it regardless. While he had been on the run, he picked up quite a few tricks for survival-the most important one being the ability to move stealthily, and to always watch his back for any- *WHAP* An impact sends him reeling to the ground, spotting a flash of long blonde hair as he does. As he begins to fade from consciousness, he hears a new voice, distinctly female-this being the one who had just delivered the smack to the side of his head-speaking. “This isn’t him, Arkete.” Arkete? The name is familiar to him, being that of the old lord he used to serve back home. His mind begins to flutter with worry as he slips away into the blackness, passing out on the cold forest floor. ⊙ ⊙ ⊙ After Grimm passes out, a blonde haired woman steps out of the darkness behind him. “This isn’t him, Arkete.” She calls out to scold her junior. “What do you mean? This is Sturmstrike.” Arkete responds as he too steps out. A man not much taller than Grimm, of a lankier stature, with messy brown hair and piercing blue eyes. “His brother is the one my father wants, not him. Leave him here” The woman fires back. “Ma’am, with all due respect, I spent weeks finding this guy. The least we could do is test him to see if he could work in place of his brother.” Arkete hears the woman groan as she relents “Fine, grab the crystal and let’s get him out of here.” ⊙ ⊙ ⊙ Grimm’s eyes flitter open as he’s dragged along, bits of pebbles, twigs, and dirt getting caught in his hair. As his hands are currently bound, he decides to feign as if he is still passed out in an effort to hide. He hears the speech of the two figures as they bring him to a clearing on the shoreline, with a small boat floating in an inlet. “General, you understand what we have here, right? I looked into it-this guy is an officer in a foreign nation-” “This guy is a runaway, Arkete. He’s nothing more. The only value he brings to the table is the fact that we could use him as bait to lure his brother out.” “Are you sure Adrian’s even alive? Shouldn’t he have died in that fire?” “House fire on a lord’s homestead by a Sauerblut family and no bodies left behind? That’s not normal. My guess is they bailed, tried to run off. But Felix and Eva aren’t our concern-they were too old to serve their purpose anyway. It’s their kids that my father was taking an interest in.” No bodies? That can’t be right, there should have been bodies there in the charred remains of the house-there had to have been. Before Grimm can think this through, however, they toss him into the lower decks of the ship, heading to the top level as he hears the General state “Figure out what’s taking Reneta so long and we can shove off within the hour.” His time is limited, that much is clear. He takes a brief moment to examine the situation. I need to get this rope off…that means plan 28C. He raises his hands to his mouth and lets out a soft, low whistle. The flapping of bird wings follows this noise as a jet black raven flies up and lands on an outside window. Avek was a bird Grimm had trained for moments just like this-in his decades of service he’s found that it always pays to have a backup plan…or thirty. The bird hops up towards him as Grimm fiddles with the satchel on its back, pulling a knife from inside. He bites down hard on the handle of the knife and positions it to saw through the ropes. He keeps scanning the room for the return of his captors, spotting his gear along with a colorless crystal sitting on a table as he does so. **** it, I need some form of payback for all of this. When he finishes sawing through the ropes, he snatches the crystal as well and takes time to assess the situation. His captors remain up on the top level, but they haven’t left yet…he could just jump through the window and swim back to land, but they’d spot him. He needs some form of distraction. His mind immediately snaps to the WIll O’ bottle with his gear. That’ll do. As Grimm limps away into the darkness, backlit by the blazing ship and accompanied by the panicked screaming of his former captors, he goes over everything in his brain. “So…now I have people hunting me-and I still don’t know where anyone else is…this is gonna be fun.”
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In a room nestled just behind the tavern in Ironguard, a man simmers in his own thoughts. Not but a few days ago he was notified about a celebration held in his honor. Ever since reading that announcement, his head had been swirling with thoughts, but none stuck out more than a single term. Sauerblut. That word burned into his memories like a brand on his very soul. ‘Sour Blood’ was the meaning of the term. An old memory from a home and a time long gone, reduced to cinders. He-no, his entire family- Sauerbluts they called them. They were all nothing, their existence amounting to serving those who were more deserving to be called ‘people’. It boiled his blood to think back to this-to how he was treated, but back then he knew nothing else. Even today, having accomplished more than he ever could have possibly dreamed, the term still gripped him, like a voice constantly whispering in his ear. The Halfaway-Sturmstrike suite was empty, save for Grimm. His wife, Kira, had gone on a trip to visit family, and the children-Regalis, Phennah, and Nox- were all out somewhere else at the moment. He was left to his own devices, to stew in a simmering pot of his own memories. And so he simmers. He recalls the first day he entered Alisgrad, nothing but a starving, inexperienced kid, wandering into a new life with no more hope left to hold. He took what little money he had-all stolen while on the run- and was able to put his first few taxes down on a house. And there he was content to remain, a quiet recluse until the day he passed on. But…then something miraculous happened. A hand reached out to him, and a warm smile greeted his cold demeanor. The Vildrs saved his life, introduced him to a world he never could have imagined himself to have been a part of. Finally, once again, he had a family, and he came to cherish them as such. With a heavy sigh, Grimm rises to his feet, the wood gently creaking under him as he steps out of the room, clutching a leather bound journal in his hands. He goes to the nearest fire, keeping a safe distance from it as he looks the book over, scarred fingers running over the cover, feeling the imperfections baked into its being. With one swift motion, he tosses the book into the fire. “No more memories. I found something to keep living for, something in the now, rather than then.” His gaze remains fixed on the journal, the fire reflecting and glaring off of the gemstone replacing his eye. “Mom, Dad…if I’m disappointing you…” He pauses for a moment, watching the embers overtake the pages, passages and memories burning away to cinders, just like his home, like his family. “...I’m done thinking about that.”
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