Roll for Narrative — Session 1
He continued to fail at making friends with the horse. The rhythmic clopping of Stormy’s hooves played counterpoint to the melodious hum of the cicadas hidden in the surrounding meadows. The smoldering sun had dropped into the clouds behind them as they neared Mistad, quenching some of the oppressive heat. He was very ill suited to traveling by foot, and could already count out the many blisters developing on his feet. Roldan was being miserable and melancholy, and that didn’t match up with the rest of his mercenary crew.
The others were spread out around his crafter’s cart; Tommy Two Shields and the wild wood elf woman Astra taking point. Roldan kept a hand on the swaying cart as he kept stride with the pack animal. He’d RATHER be riding the animal, but he and horses? No, not since his brother had caused him to be thrown in the Heimstall stables.
Kalde and Ardat were somewhere sneaking around the high grass, playing stealth on the empty plains. It felt like he was employed in a menagerie with all these strange creatures afoot, both friends and foes. The hyena attack the night before was unprecedented, but surely that couldn’t happen that often so close to big port cities like Misvog? Things were so different now then during his time. There had been order and expectations of duty and obedience during the reign of the mage schools. We — even more so all the sentient races — knew what was expected of them. These mercenary bands made their own laws, and allowed anyone the opportunity to pursue whatever whim they desired. Birds and cats running free and doing what they please!
It’d been two years since his release from his brother’s captivity, and he still struggled with the culture shock of the last few hundred years. The logic of his mind told him these were the new rules; the paradigm had shifted and those that were here acted accordingly. It all made sense that non-magic users and those races not considered at higher standing were allowed their freedom, too. He’d been raised in a certain way of thinking; this is how he was socially conditioned to interact with those in his society. He knew that it was better for all races, now. Even for him; being only half elf and not a true mage meant he’d had lived in the shadow of his family’s legacy for his entire life. This all made sense, logically. Emotionally he wasn’t there yet.
Roldan gave Stormy another derisive stare; the horse rolled her eyes at his own contemptuous rebuttal and whinnied until Roldan took a step back from the trundling cart.
Dumb beasts. The creak of leather, the steady pound of hooves on packed dirt, brought him back to another experience with a horse from long ago — -
— — Roldan balanced precariously on the back of the spirited pony, his legs vised around the belly of the animal. Adrenaline tingled in his hands and feet as he fought to control his terror of falling from the tall animal. Mishu the stable servant held on to the lead, walking ahead of the boy-laden horse. Roldan thought a halfling a strange choice for the stable hand, but the small woman could communicate to horses far better than Roldan was at commanding the estate servants. She was also quick on her feet, and could deftly move about the legs of a prancing horse as nimble as a courtroom dancer, as he noticed whenever he lost control of his horse.
They circled the boundaries of the stable, Roldan sitting petrified atop the benign marching creature. It was still a young animal, but powerful and tall; one of the finest breeds in the northern reaches of Vasan.
Those servants performing various tasks about the stables kept a curious eye on the procession; wondering if they’d have a repeat of what had happened the week prior.
Lord Heimstall had been notified of Ellrick’s mean spirited pranks during Roldan’s riding lessons; but even a harsh punishment from their father did not always dissuade Roldan’s sibling. Roldan gripped the bridle in tight anticipation. The smooth leather creaked under the strain of his hands. Horses had always terrified him; more so now after being thrown the last class he’d had with Mishu. He kept a wary eye on the shadowed stables and the bales of hay piled about. His shoulders tensed at the thought of Ellrick just out of sight, waggling his fingers in spellcasting and counting down to launching a spell at him and the horse.
“Good, doing good, young master. Let your legs conform to the shape of the chest, and you can lower your hands a bit, too.” Mishu murmured up to Roldan, clearly as nervous as he. The horse-loving halfling had been clipped in the forehead by a hoof the last lesson; a result of Ellrick’s malicious ice spell.
After several more circuits about the stable grounds, Roldan began to relax. He eased more into the horse, surprised at how pleasant the wild animal and hay scents mixed with the crisp, clear day. The warmth of the animal mingled with the warm spring weather. The continued absence of his brother encouraged him to lead the pony with more enthusiasm, leaving Mishu in a cloud of dust as he began to canter the pony about.
The energy of the horse and liberating momentum elicited an exhilarated laugh from him; joy was an unfamiliar feeling to Roldan, though he certainly felt the surge of the emotion now. They went around the far corner of the clearing, staying close to the wooden fencing. He was about to shout out to Mishu as they approached, when the sky became dark.
Unnerved by the abrupt change in the weather, he yanked on the reins of the pony. He could see Mishu waving her hands wildly, trying to capture his attention, but the darkening skies and his panic translating to the horse had him fully engrossed.
He risked a look up at the sky, regretting the view. Knots of clouds weaved a great conflux of violent intent, churning directly above the stables. Flashes of lightning arced among the billowing clouds, tightening in radius towards the center of the sudden storm, as if gathering potency to strike.
The horse buckled under him in fear, nearly depositing him onto the packed ground below. The stables was now an overturned anthill; servants scurrying for cover or the few workers trying to bring in the animals still left unstabled.
Roldan flattened himself over the neck of the pony, somehow keeping his wits and urging the animal onward towards the stables where the horses were kept. A force of wind caught them near the center of the clearing. Both horse and rider were swept up by the power of the gale, and before he could redirect the pony, a great bolt of lightning shattered the earth before them.
His senses were swept away with the concussion, and the last sensation he felt as he fell from his seat was the unyielding impact of the ground — -
— — The bugs in the fields sang out for attention beyond the road. Roldan had been engrossed in the memory, and had failed to notice their approach to Mistad. They would soon enter this town, and embroil themselves in possible future conflicts. He mused on the artifact Commander Tara had mentioned. He would make it a point to follow up while here; he knew procuring such a rare item was a higher priority to him than handling the actual task their mercenary leader expected of them. He would acquiesce as needed.
He closed the self imposed distance between him and Stormy. He smirked at the irony of the name. The pony in the stables died right after Ellrick had evoked the lightning storm; her heart had failed due to his brother’s cruelty. As much as he was terrified of the horse, he was even more so terrified of what could happen to the creature if he needed to use the horse in a dangerous situation. He had to remind himself again that his brother was gone, and he was no longer the target.
Even still, he thought he could feel eyes on him from out in the brush; he knew he suffered bouts of paranoia from time to time, so it wasn’t uncommon for him to imagine his brother was soon to strike from the shadows.
Roldan shook his head in an effort to dispel the mental cloud enveloping him. He would worry about what he could see in front of him, and Stormy was the most dangerous opponent at the present. They were a day or two away from Mistad, and he was certain they’d reach the town with little trouble.
