Trapped Rat ~ "Kid"

[Ric]

Kid’s Past

What do you think of when you see a smile so pure …
So innocent …
So young …
So … Happy …

What do you think of when you see that little boy that steps in front of your doorstep every morning, but you never bother to say hello.  Do you not feel any shame or regret when he frowns and slumps away?  What would happen if your life depended on this little boy one day?  Would you find it surprising that when you asked this little boy for help … That he would refuse it?



From child birth until the age of eleven, Sid Vaston was living the happy life of farmer.  Sid had no parents, because at the age of three, he watched as a group of bandits spilled their blood before him.  They begged for his life to be spared, but nothing was done.  That little boy could not cease the nightmares that followed in the years to come.  He heard the shrieks, the painful gurgling, and the struggling of his parents being held down while being mutilated slowly.

His foster father was an elf from Calimport, which happened to be a short distance away from this farmstead.  He watched the boy grow, and he educated him in elven.  Others in the farmstead found this rather unfair that a human boy should be taught the tongue that did not match his own.  The elf would not hear of it, however … This boy would learn to speak it; for it would come in handy once he was old enough to work properly.

Each morning, his guardian, known as Kheldin, would help him get dressed, and then educate him more.  From time to time, the workers would show him a few words of common, but Sid found it somewhat difficult to hold two language sin his mind.  He loved the company, however, so he gladly devoted himself to learning two languages.  They loved Sid, because he did everything with a pure, conscious heart.  Despite the fact that he was forced to watch his parents’ death at such a young age, everyone assumed he eventually adjusted.

It was so mystifying … Sid truly did not show signs of mental dysfunction from the traumatic experience … At least, not while he was awake.  In his sleep, he would move around dramatically, sometimes even scream out for his parents.  Kheldin would sit next to his bed at late hours and keep him comfortable; as there was nothing more he could offer for the child.

During his eleventh year, a raid was made from the local thugs of Calimport.  They were unhappy with Kheldin’s lack of support to his organization, so they made an effort to eliminate him, along with any traces.  When the hour of midnight reached the farmstead, screams were echoing.  Sid’s heart was racing as he climbed from his bed and looked out his bedroom window.  They showed no mercy to the workers, and they were savagely murdered.  Flashbacks of his parents’ deaths cycled through Sid’s mind.  It would only be a matter of time before they would reach him, so he took his chances and ran out the back of the structure.

He ran for hours without even looking back.  The biting winds nearly scared his face, and he would frequently collapse while panting.  His fingers would press against the mud to keep him standing, for he knew that if he stopped now, they would find him.  Surely, they would cut out his intestines first, and then force him to watch his own heart ripped from his small body.  He could envision the entire graphic details … Such vivid details for a child to imagine.

When he reached Calimport, there was no turning back.  He would have to spend the rest of his life, knowing that he abandoned Kheldin and the others; knowing that the people that protected him could not even protect themselves.  That guilt followed him, and it taunted his soul as his torn boots clattered through the wet cobblestones of that darkened city.

He reached a pub and sat in the corner … There was not a place for him to even stay.  Who would want to provide shelter to a young, homeless boy when there was not even room for the adults?  He was at the very bottom of their concern, but he was forced to accept this, by society’s way.

The locals of the pub gave him the name “Kid” to preserve his youth and make him known.  The efforts to make him known failed, however, due to the lack of employment opportunities.  The boy couldn’t even speak common coherently, so what use could he be for business?  It didn’t matter that he had the motivation to work.  He was worthless in the eyes of the big crowds in Calimport.

He was more useful for target practice than anything else.  Sid learned how to keep himself hidden, as it was essential for survival from this life in the big city.  While he learned to keep hidden, the locals at the pub even showed him proper sign language.  They knew that if he could keep his mouth shut and understand their signals, it could be determined whether or not Sid would be safe each night.

That was how life was for the young boy, and that was how life remained.  He never stopped having the nightmares, and the guilt would fill his mind when he was alone.  He hated being alone, because if he was alone, he was hurt.  To keep his mind happy, he would have to be with others or keep his mind off the pain of losing his friends and families.

One day, the locals of Calimport found him, and when the beatings commenced, something occurred.  While blood poured between Sid’s sharp, crooked teeth, and while his painful groans echoed in the alley they were in, a misty formation was surrounding them.  The beatings ceased, and the dark-clad ruffians looked around.  In that moment of confusion, that misty essence kidnapped Sid … And then he was no longer a resident of Calimport …

[Ric]

Encounter



Sid spent his first several days in the new land of Barovia with uncertainty.  He had no one he could truly bond with, and the closest people he had for friends were traveling acquaintances.  There was Sivius and Anat, his two common traveling partners.  The two always spoke of desires in finding women and booze, but Sid could never follow their examples.  He was raised in the pubs during his last six years, but drinking was never a game:  It was a necessity to keep smiling.

There was a Caliban he considered somewhat close, almost motherly-like.  She referred to herself as “Singer”.  Sid and she were on strong speaking terms when they traveled.  Sid could tell that she was intrigued by his optimism, despite all he had already been informed about her race.  He was told she was a monster, but Sid was patient enough to determine if a monster could be a friend or foe.

And then one day, when Sid was lonely and wandered into the Elven village in the woods, he witnessed something rather incredible.  A tall, brute figure was drawing his blade in a fashion Sid had never set his eyes upon, and he struck in a deft motion ahead of him.  His entire body was in motion as he performed his attacking moves, and when he was finished, his empty facial expression had not even budged.  The man was holding a strong, disciplined expression that was unchangeable.

Sid could not stop watching this man, for he admired that sort of technique.  There were no shields or heavy armor … It was all speed and movement, like a dance.  Sid wasn’t foolish, although he gave many the impressions that he was.  Through calculation, he determined that a move like that could easily render a victim knocked to the ground with ease.

Three friends of Sid were with him at the time.  Ain’a, a young elven woman with low literacy in common, Raywyn, a blind martial artist, and Neithu, another elf who recently was rendered blind.  As Sid approached the brute figure to question his technique, he was immediately shunned.  “Flap your tongue elsewhere,” he said to him.

As he turned away, Sid pondered his attitude, and at one point, Raywyn explained to him in a whisper how Mark, his name, had a lover had been taken from him.  Sid may have been smart, but he was quite naďve when it came to socializing.  When Mark started to walk past him, the young man stepped forward and told him “Ah’m sorreh t’ hear aboot yer loss.”

Mark stood still and silent in front of Sid, seeming to be eating an apple in that very moment.  The others frowned, for they already knew what would happen, but poor Sid did not.  The boy stepped forward and explained to him how he knew what it felt like to lose loved ones.  He did not stop talking until Mark brought an end to it.

His right, spiked gauntlet flung back and crashed against the boy’s face without even a hint that it was coming.  The speed was amazing, and before Sid knew it, he was on the ground, looking up to the figure with blood and tears over his face.  The figure did not say anything, despite all the yelling that came out of Ain’a afterwards.  She spoke in the elven dialect, explaining how taking anger out on the young is never the way, and that there was good in passing education to the new generation.

Sid watched and listened in awe, for they felt that he could not understand them, but he did clearly.  In the end, the figure shook his head and left the scene, seeming disgusted by the scene he was in.  When it was all over, Sid cleaned the blood from his face and looked on with admiration and determination.  His new goal had been clear:  To prove his worth to that man.

[Ric]

The Code



Markrael Candray, after having dealt with Sid’s persistence in wanting to learn from him, presented the young man with two paths to take.  There would be the path of one who spends the rest of his life without violence, and the path of one who wishes to murder through the coldest of means.  To a normal person, the first path would be the safest to take, especially with a bright mind like Sid’s.  He could have lived a rich life, earning profits and raising his own family.

But it did not matter to Sid.  All he wanted was to deliver justice to those that cause wrong in the world.  He was wronged, but he could do nothing but escape.  While Sid lived to tell about this, the pain haunted him every single time he went to sleep.  He never wanted to relive the sorrow and loss, but it continued to return.

Sid told Markrael that he wished to be stronger, and Markrael told Sid that life was not about strength, but preparing for a good death.  There was a sudden pause, and then the young man replied that dieing without having done something to cease the evil would not be a good death at all.  He explained that there was injustice in the world, and it must be stopped before more good people are killed.  It did not matter if the means of stopping the injustice was cold or brutal … Killing was killing, in Sid’s eyes.  Killing someone wasn’t a pleasure in his eyes; it was justice being served.

Markrael stared at him for a long time before explaining to him that Sid’s words would be his ‘Code’ to follow for the rest of his life.  That Code was more important than life itself, and should Sid break it, Markrael promised to let him feel his unforgiving wrath.  The death of a betrayer should be slow and painful, especially one who would betray his own honorable code.

And so the acquaintances became Master and Pupil.  Many days of training would follow, and soon, the young Sid would become a new tool of murder.  He does not need to be a shield to those he wishes to protect, for he would become a sword that could strike and deflect.  He entered the training as a naďve youth, but that would soon change over the course of his learning.  The real challenge would be to see if a young man as pure as he could truly smile after his training reaches completion.

[Ric]

The First Blood



Sid wished to train in the art of murder in order to punish those that would cause wrong.  One evening, he found himself wronged, and justice was carried out.

It all started when he found himself collecting a decent sum of money, as well as a valuable supply of tools to aid him.  He stopped by Murnu’s store to purchase goods, only to be shaken down by a Red Vardo employee for supposedly shoplifting valued goods.  The time limit to prove his innocence was until dawn.

The end of the search resulted in nearly all of Sid’s wealth given to the Red Vardo Traders and most of his new tools toward the pawn keeper Yoshek, who was given the stolen items.  His innocence was maintained, but his heart was cold that day.  All Sid could think about was taking revenge on the person that did this to him.  The person stole his identity in order to leave the blame on him.

Sunset was approaching when Sid spotted the very man himself.  He could not believe it … The figure was wearing the exact same garb as he.  They could pass off as twins, Sid believed.  Stalking the man, the twins eventually clashed in the sewers.  Nothing was said.  One shot was made to the man’s leg, and the other was made to his neck.  The shots were rather inaccurate to what Sid’s mentor had been teaching, but the deed was done.

Blood seeped into the watery grates, and the figure remained still.  There was no turning back at this point.  Sid twitched with uncertainty, but he knew what he would have to do to cover this mess up.  The process was rather disturbing, but it was done.

First, Sid covered the man with the robes of an Anchorite, in order to change his identity.  He then applied pressure to the wounds to keep them from leaking as he carried the body away.  There was a bridge above a large pool of sewage, the perfect spot to dispose this body.  Taking his own shield from his pack, Sid secured it around the man’s body by means of rope.  The purpose of this was to keep the body from rising after being dropped in, since Sid was very aware of how bodies had a tendency to ‘rise’ once dunked.

Before the body would be dumped in, any trace had to be eliminated, and the best way to do this was to remove the only thing the body had to give it a name:  The head.  It took Sid a few moments to keep himself settled, but he eventually committed to severing the head while keeping the body over the edge of the pool to keep the blood from spilling over the ground.  The gore was rushing out of the victim’s neck like a waterfall … It nearly made Sid sick, but he could not turn back.  It was far too late to turn back now.

As the head was removed, he kicked the body into the pool and took the head away.  The last task that would be needed to complete this endeavor was to dispose the head.  If the investigators could not locate a head to match the missing ‘Anchorite’ body, there would never be a case.  And so … He fed the head to a large pack of rats until there was nothing but a skull.  With that, he took his leave, for the deed was done.

Justice … Was served …

[Ric]

Adapting



Life was steadily changing for the young Sid Vaston.  Each day, a new challenge would step forward, and by the end of the day, he would either conquer it or attempt to.  His training was harsh, yet satisfying, and his friends kept him from losing that bright smile he formed on many occasions.

Markrael and he would discuss many things together, alone and isolated in their own little world.  They shared the same philosophy of delivering merciless justice to the evils in order to preserve the greater good.  It did not matter if the subject was on healthy eating or a guide on torturing a man to death.  Each lesson only helped Sid expand his chances of survival in Barovia.

Nature was the sanctuary Markrael and Sid took advantage of.  They would wear colors to match their surroundings and become one with their trees, grass, and mud.  And when they knew that they were alone, Markrael would either lecture Sid on their martial art, or they would spar.  Sparring sessions consisted of quick, decisive clashes and take-downs.  Each time, Sid would be asked to avoid Markrael’s next move, and then counter-attack with a fatal, killing move.

When it was time for the pair to separate, however, it became a sort of shift in plans.  He would either locate friends or make new ones, where he would learn more about the world by means of adventuring and socializing.  When he grew tired of being surrounded by many, he would retreat to Degannwy and study, meditate, and practice striking movements.  There was so much for Sid to do while his teacher and he parted on those occasions.

The path to memorizing the book on anatomy, of which was written in Balok text, lessened in difficulty as Sid studied his favorite page.  The page depicted a large picture of a nude, human male and female body.  Sid used a feather pen to mark all the spots his teacher instructed him to aim for.  Arteries and veins were a key location to strike in his studies.  The back of the chins released enough to leave a target unable to move, which gave him an advantage.

The armpit functioned in the same manner, only that it was a much more damaging location.  The split arteries would leave pour plentiful amounts of blood, and the wound would be extremely difficult to stitch.  In fact, the wound would become infected in several cases, if it was not treated by a professional surgeon, he learned from lectures.

While the spine was effective and the stomach was a slow crippling strike, Sid took note in the lungs, specifically.  Should the lung be penetrated by the blade, blood would fill the target’s breathing, and he would suffer a slow, painful death.  It was a terrifying way to eliminate someone, but necessary against the foes Markrael and Sid sought to eliminate in their lives.

There was also an endurance lesson Sid found himself carefully attempting for the first time.  His teacher explained that the art of mastering poison required the act of learning to accept poison within his body system.  The more his body accepted venom, the better off Sid would be.  The coating of blades in poison would become quicker, and he would not have to worry about hurting himself in the process.  The other factor was to give his own blood a sort of ‘taint’ against the vampires and monsters that would dare to taste him.

He kneeled in his room at Degannwy sanctum, where he drew out a sterile needle and coated it in a vial of spider venom.  The rich, green tone filled the end of that needle and dripped within the vial as it came out.  He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and forced the needle into his left thigh.  His eyes widened in surprise as his tanned flesh reddened near the wound.  There was a numb feeling in his leg, and before he knew it, the poison’s effect overcame him.

Sid’s breathing lessened, but he knew that the first time would be the most difficult to endure.  His body was slowly becoming heavy, but he knew that it would be unwise to back down from this.  Markrael’s voice reminding him not to sleep nor drink alcohol in the process of resisting poison echoed through his cold ears.  He groaned quietly and suffered … But he lived.

In order to keep his mind off the pain, he would retrace his memories and recall how wonderful his life was becoming.  The kind, pride-filled elf named Ain’a accepted his request to be part of her loving family she shared with her lover Neithu, Markrael, and the other residents of Degannwy.  It soothed his heart to know that he had a new family to protect, and that was his motivation to endure the poison without giving up.

He also recalled the conversation that Markrael and he shared one evening, discussing the future.  Sid’s teacher explained the value love had for him, and Sid began to wonder what love was like.  He had asked many questions of it, but the answers were wry.  In the end, however, Sid explained to his teacher that finding someone to care for would only hurt his training at that moment.  He would either find love in the future, or never, for he had no real name … Sid was training to be invisible.

The poison had filled his blood, and in that moment, he attempted to stand.  Dizzy and burning with a fever, he immediately collapsed.  His legs and arms shook above the carpet, and when he thought he was about to lose the feeling in his body, he felt the warm, burning fluids rush from his stomach toward his lips.  The vomit was acidic and tainted, he knew, and the smell was putrid.  When it was all out, he drew out the restorative tonic and downed it to purge the rest of the weakness he had.

The first time was always the hardest for everything, but he would adapt to this.  Just like how he would adapt to a new family, he would adapt to a new life.  It was Sid’s decision to become this protector of the good, and he would now face the path of enduring it for the rest of his life.

[PinkTarantula]

"For as time draws on, and darkness dwells,
be insurmountable as well.
Your tide against the dawning rain—
the sword, the dagger, the strength through pain.

The blood now dripping upon your hand,
this beautiful work you understand.
And who calls hither to make your art,
expecting the times, you’re ever apart?

But still the path draws, feet unto stone.
This structure you built, you will live in alone.
But stray not beside the darkening way,
and you can be sure, you shall have your day."

[Ric]

Chivalry



It was becoming easier for him to execute the teachings his teacher prepared for him.  Every foe that stood before his path, he studied before executing with his blades or crossbow bolts.  Neck, Arms, Shins, wrists, lungs, stomach, spine, and groin; those were the locations that danced Sid’s mind each time he fought.  It was nearly an underestimation of his strength when he found himself severing the nervous system of a witch who threatened his friends while traveling.  The witch’s eyes were wild in panic, for the pain sensation swirled throughout his body.  He could not flinch, sweat, nor even scream … Just wait for imminent death, and it came after Sid announced his disliking of the witch’s intentions.

There was an occurrence in the outskirts before Sid had accomplished this, however.  Many were being assaulted by an elven female who bore the mark of a witch and thief.  She was merciless in her search to rob the weak and unprepared, and there was nothing anyone could do for the days she spent hurting them.  Many were robbed, but there was not a step made to prevent future raids.  All that the paranoid outlanders could do was prepare to face a being they could not even see, or hide in fear.

One night, Sid observed her attempting to rob once more.  She spoke directly toward a large man with the filthy intention to rob him of all his money.  The elf openly took pride in the fact that she killed many and stole all the money they had.  It was enough to anger the young Sid Vaston, for his very code he developed with Markrael instructed him to carry out justice to those that would abuse the weak.

She clashed against the large man and won.  When she left the scene toward the direction of the Gremishika cave, her fate awaited.  Markrael, to Sid’s surprise, leaped from the shadows and drove his blade against the woman, where she was left split from her nerves.  Her eyes stared at him coldly, but she could not turn nor scream for help.  Her throat was slit, and she fell before both of them, leaving only the sound of her corpse collapsing over the grass.

As Sid stared at the woman’s body with still, uncaring eyes, his teacher instructed him to leave the body and the stolen money behind.  Sid questioned this, for he was unsure as to why they would not return the money to the victims and the body to the authorities.  It was then that Markrael stated very clearly that it was not their business to claim any sort of ‘victory’ in this event.  The young man recalled Markrael stating that they were invisible and not to be chivalrous.

As the pair left the corpse behind, they came across a small mob of angry victims from the witch.  As they questioned Markrael and Sid, the experienced killer directed them toward the corpse and explained that the Gremishikas had their way with her.  That was it.  There was not any indication that he was involved in her downfall … Just that he witnessed her dead and returned.

The Master and his pupil walked for hours after the mob went to handle the witch’s remains.  It was somewhat difficult for Sid to imagine how their lives were made to be.  No matter what they did, it would never be told about in legends.  They were not heroes like in the stories he read in the libraries.  They were invisible heroes, following a strict code to solve the problems without becoming the problems.

This was their life, and they had to follow it.

[Ric]

Morals



While it was the most traumatic two days Sid had ever set his eyes upon, it was also the most educational display possible.  There was sweat, tears, and bloodshed over the course of those hours, and there were no winners … Only losers.

It was the beginning of an operation to strike vengeance on the rival army of Barovia:  Invidia’s.  Roland Zeluf, a local guard of high voice and muscle, made a call to arms for mercenaries to aid the Barovian army in this endeavor.  There were many that stepped forward, including Markrael and Sid.  Justice would be done by aiding the military with their problems, so they thought.

By the time they stepped into the heat of battle, however, it was to their surprise that a military army was not awaiting them.  The only sign of military was that of the guards of this makeshift village.  The children were playing outside, and the civilian adults were minding their own business.  Little did they know that their lives were about to be destroyed in the blink of an eye.

As Roland made the order to disable the military and to leave the unarmed aside, the mercenaries took it upon themselves to wreck everything they could.  They chased the unarmed civilians, plundered their homes, and burned whatever they could.  Sid’s eyes were widening in confusion, for he could not even comprehend the situation he and his teacher were placed within.

Children were screaming and being decapitated or crushed, women were lying in puddles of their own blood, and the elderly were simply stabbed to death.  Echoes of pain and horror filled the grey skies.  Swords were not clashing against others; they were rending flesh and bone, splattering everything around the grass and walls of the burning homes.

This was far from a battle … It was a massacre …

A little boy stepped out, clutching his sister’s arm, and he commanded her to run away while he would protect her.  Markrael and Sid attempted to apprehend the boy and send him on his way to his sister, but then one of the mercenaries stepped forward without any hesitation to slit the boy’s throat.

The memories filled young Sid in that moment.  He recalled the time when he was once in the position of this little boy.  He would have been killed too, had he not run away when he did.  It was a tragedy that should never have been repeated before the young man’s eyes. 

The lot of the mercenaries had angered Sid and his teacher.  They did not show any honor in the ‘battle’, and their intention was filled with selfishness.  All they cared about was plundering and killing.  They yearned for battle and fed on their bodies for any spare coins they had.

In the end, Markrael and he made a vow to bring vengeance on all who perished, and they would follow that thought to their graves.  Commander Zeluf resigned from the military, outraged by the decision his own military had made.  There was much respect to be granted to this guard, in Sid’s eyes.  He would serve as a role model for his future, and his teacher’s lecture truly added to this.

The moral of the story was to prove to Sid that while there are those who would kill for protecting the weak, others would choose pleasure and benefits in their decisions.  In order to protect the weak, the ones who kill for pleasures were to be hunted down one by one.  There was no excuse for the masses they stole lives from, and soon, all of them would regret their actions ten-fold, in Markrael’s explanation.

No more innocent blood.

[Ric]

The Burden



What is it to hold ideals?  Because you would state your opinion of what is right and wrong, would that mean you were correct?  Is there a true meaning to right and wrong, or is it a flawed concept altogether?

He questioned this days after the incident took place.

The incident took place within the Lady’s Rest Inn, only a day after sharing a long, deep topic with Sivius.  Sivius and Anethet were Sid’s closest friends, but they were showing deep concern over the way he was being raised.  Markrael, do their misinformed knowledge, was just a killer without a purpose who never showed emotion to anyone, but Sid knew it not to be true in reality.  Markrael’s ideals were much like his own, and that was partially what bonded the two together by fate’s threads.

The young man was resting in a room, considering what he would do next, when a sudden knock came.  Little did Sid know that as soon as he would open his door, the nightmare would begin.  Without even saying anything, a man in dark clothing threw a punch at Sid’s face, knocking him back.  Sid’s eyes widened in anticipation, and the man began beating his fists into him.

“Stop!”  He shouted, but the man did not.  When all became futile, Sid drew out his blade and fought with the man until he eventually dropped dead before him.  The struggle was short, but brutal.  Blood seeped around the wooden planks of the floor below them, and, nearly unconsciously, Sid began removing bed sheets in order to conceal the mess he made.  He was used to the procedure now, but what happened next, he had not planned.

A second knock came.

By that moment, Sid had already hid the sheet-covered corpse in his magical bag, but the blood stains remained.  In desperation, he hid behind a mirror near the door and watched at the door-knocker open and entered.  It was Sivius … And behind him, Anethet and their close friend, Natalie stood.  Sid refused to let them see him, but the discovery of the blood left them searching thoroughly.  Eventually, Sivius spotted Sid, and then Markrael happened to join the scene as well.

When Sid exposed the body to them, the immediate thought of him potentially ‘murdering’ an innocent came to their thoughts, but they waited and heard him out.  Just as he lived it, Sid told it.  Their time, however, was drying.  Markrael and Sid knew what they needed to do with the body.  They took their leave carefully and left the other three to deal with the bloodstains.  There was, however, a child’s doll that fell from the man’s belongings as Sid lifted the body … The doll left all of them pale …

The walk was slow and painful for Sid.  They moved as deep into the forest as they could.  The master and his apprentice exchanged but few words.  It was difficult for the apprentice to even concentrate on the words, for all he could think about was the possibility of being discovered and convicted of murder.  They had no choice in the disposal of the body, however.  The man had the appearance of a Barovian, and he was an outlander.  Despite how honest he could be, they would never take the word of an outlander.

It bothered him, for he knew that his three friends found distaste in their mouths from this, but there was nothing more to discuss.  In Sid’s mind, it would have been suicide to have explained that a Barovian assaulted him first with the reputation the outlanders had among the guards.

In the end, they threw the body to the wraith spiders, and his body was torn and reduced to shreds …

As they returned, Markrael reminded him numerously to hold a calm position and to not let the past event derail his thoughts.  Should anyone come looking for the body, they would have to anticipate what might happen and deal with it.  What they saw when they reached the scene, they would never let down.

A Barovian woman was suddenly asking for the whereabouts of her husband.  When Sivius saw Markrael and Sid, he explained the situation, and it was clear:  They were safe.  Cleverly, he constructed a lie of certain events happening upstairs between him and the others.  As far as everyone knew, they did not even have a clue as to what happened to Sid’s assailant.

Next to the Barovian wife stood another woman who translated her pleads.  She was begging to see her husband, and that his three children were wanting him to return home.  The words made Sid weak inside … How could it be?  The man was a cold-blooded thug, yet he also was the father of three?  It was believable, however … The doll he carried with him must have belonged to one of the children.

All Sid could do was offer some money to the widow, letting her know that he would try his best to find her husband.  It was a lie he had to deal with, for there truly wasn’t anything to do but lie about the self-defense he performed.  What started off as self-defense became potential murder, and it only got worse after they left the woman behind.

Markrael left with Anethet to calm his nerves, for the elf was showing signs of utter disgust in Sid.  He was pure, in Sid’s eyes, and that pureness held ideals that he should have turned himself in for self defense rather than covering up the mess.  Anethet was naďve, Sid believed, and that soon, he would need to be awakened to the reality of the horrible world they were in.

Natalie and Sivius escorted Sid to a private room within the Broken Bell, where the emotions finally exposed to them.  Sivius believed that Sid was innocent, but Natalie could not, by the expression she gave him.  She was authoritative in her questioning, for she wanted to know the truth and nothing but the truth.

Sid explained himself clearly without showing any emotion, but as he pulled out the doll, which Natalie passed him, wrapped in cloth, it broke him.  His eyes filled with tears, knowing that what he did was kill someone’s father.  Self-defense or murder, he still killed someone’s father.  The images of his past, where he lost his own parents, returned in a haunting way.

It tore his heart to shreds, and he wept for a long time before his friends.  They too, were saddened, and they even offered sympathy to his situation.  It was not Sid’s fault that he was placed in this position, but fate demanded it.  It was simply another obstacle and lesson he would have to muster.  Life is not perfect, and certain instances happen to make it circulate in twists.

Although they were safe from the possibility of being arrested, the past could not be erased from their minds.  A burden would certainly sit over their shoulders, and nothing could be done to stop this.  Moving forward was their only option left, but it was clear:  They would never forget what happened, ever, nor should they even consider forgetting it.  To forget about it would make them true murderers, they knew … So they would honor the man's death by keeping him in their hearts forever.

[Ric]

Rat Meets Cat



The days were kind to Sid, following the horrible events of the unexpected murder that took place.  His sense of right and wrong had been distorted, in a way, but all of this seemed to vanish after following the advice given by his friends and mentor.  All of them believed that his training was nearly controlling his will, and that he would be left without a soul if he continued at that rate.

He spoke with more people and spent less time training.  He maintained his dosage of poison every two to three days, and he read, but he stayed away from the temptation of shedding blood.  By the end of the week, a funeral was presented for someone he barely knew, yet he decided to respect it.  At this funeral, he met a rather lonely, yet attractive woman, who called herself Ali.

While her exposed thighs gave many around her a sense of discomfort, Sid simply stood next to her and exchanged whispers about the ceremony and its disruptions.  She shivered next to him, for the woman did not wear anything warm but light cloths and leather boots.  With a caring gesture, Sid offered his cloak to her.  She thanked him, and he felt sudden warmth over her words.  He was unsure what this meant, but the warmth led him to curiosity, and that curiosity led him to offering a drink and chit-chat at the inn afterwards.

The conversations were rather meager and informal, but eventually, they found themselves seeing each other often.  What drew his interests most to her was the story she gave him of her background.  She, too, was a caged animal, but of a different species, for certain.  The wondrous, golden-haired girl was actually a former slave, one of many others from a tyrant in a distant land.  She described to him that she had her ‘uses’ in those days, specifically on the style of murder.

They shared similarities, yet they were not the same at all, Sid observed.  He explained to her in a separate private meeting that to describe his recent way of life was the process of transforming.  Where he was once a ‘rat’ that ran away, he would soon become a ‘snake’ like his Mentor, Markrael, Sid explained to Ali.  She laughed and explained to him that if his style of murder was that of a ‘snake’, she would be considered a ‘wild cat’.  Her style was not pin-pointed on critical locations, but agile, swift strikes.

She was, in Sid’s eyes, a very unique animal.  She made many efforts to smile in the public, but she was not a happy woman at all.  Looking to her was like gazing into a mirror for Sid.  What he saw was the past … That lost, unprepared feeling, where all he could do in his hopeless state was smile and hope people would leave him be, unlike in Calimport.  He was attracted to her, not because she was beautiful, but because she reminded him of his past.  It would please him more to watch her become something beyond a ‘trapped cat’ than to just care for her as a friend.

They kissed one another, but they were not true lovers.  It even bothered Sid that his friends questioned what she meant to him.  The relationship the rat and cat was close, yet it was distant.  Deep inside, he already sensed that Markrael would surely question his decision to care for her.  It would hinder his training for Sid to fall in love with a woman, and he was even enduring himself for the meeting his mentor and he would have.  In a way, he almost wanted his Master to scold him.

A killer is a killer and shall remain one until death.
He walks the path of one who lives and dies by the sword.
And so it shall be.
But at least he knew now that warmth still existed in his tainted heart.

[Ric]

Endurance



… They are afflicted ...
… With black stench …
… We, wise ones …
… Cannot save them …
… Salvation is null …
… Fight, we must …
… Never to rise …
… Never to return …
… We, wise ones …
… Are the afflicted …

Before Sid realized it, he was now eighteen years old.  In another few days, it will have been one year since he walked the streets of Calimport.  Although his new life had been difficult to adjust, the end result proved phenomenal.  With his calculative intelligence and improvements in his agility, he has taken a large step from what he once was.  However, he was still far in strength from his master, Markrael.

The path set before him was truly beginning to make sense, Sid felt.  His instructor explained in the beginning that as his training progressed, he would understand the grim reality of life and see the dark face of the living.  In a way, he discovered that there was no difference between humans, non-humans, and Caliban.  All of them had their share of terrible flaws and goods.

He also realized that he, himself, has his own share of terrible flaws.  The stranger known as ‘Blue’ pointed it out to him ever so clearly.  Because Sid was not willing to discuss his darkest fragmented memories, he truly did not hold much trust in anyone, and even with all the ‘friends’ he claimed to have, they could never be trustworthy.  Sid was also a very paranoid youth, and his constant strives to be aware of his surroundings led to a sort of obsession.  One he began to worry about someone or something, it would nearly take over all his other thoughts until the conflict was resolved.

In the end, the relationship he created with the cat could not be as many of his acquaintances had imagined.  While Markrael even gave permission of Sid to fall in love, he, himself, could not bare the weight of it.  The idea of protecting someone he loved meant a sort of commitment he could not multi-task with his training.  In those days of ‘happiness’, he discovered that a subtle weakness was forming, and so … He explained to her that he would protect, but not love.

And as he attempted to return to the path of training, he managed to disappoint his own instructor.  In all the conflicts he met in society, he lost discipline, and his own teacher could sense this.  In order to push Sid, his teacher threatened what he feared most, should he continue to show lacking toward the disciplines:  The threat of harm coming toward his friends.

These ‘friends’ were not fit for society, yet Sid felt a hidden desire to watch over them.  It was as if they were his long, lost brothers.  These men were picked on for the way they were, and they were not strong, certainly not.  Sid wanted to believe that they could find success in the new world they were living in by his guidance.  This desire to help him created a new challenge.  Should he fail to uphold his own training while trying to protect these men, their suffering would come from Sid’s failings.

He was afraid, yet he was motivated and prepared to tackle the challenge.  Sid was in control of the situation, and he could make a difference.  The young man had many to satisfy … His friends, Sivius and Anethet, wished to see Sid happy more, yet he knew he could only provide so much.  His master desired him to be focused and disciplined during his training.  His new friends counted on Sid for support and trust.

All of these expectations were to be held to the highest priorities.  There could be no mistakes in these, and with that, Sid dressed himself and stepped outside to face all of these each day that followed.

[Ric]

Caged Snake



The troubled youth had been left in a twist of paths, for surrounding him were growing issues.  Near the peak of all the issues, he told those around him to let him know when he would be needed again.  The conflict was almost unbearable.  Sid did not wish anything to do with it any longer, unless it directly affected him.  He owed his dear friend aid, but he would wait for the right moment to provide it.

When he retreated to the outskirts with a rather distorted sense of what to do next, he witnessed a rather disturbing sight, to say the least.  An elven woman of soiled hope and lack of clothing appeared.  Before attention formed around this one, Sid already knew that this was a slave.  He knew what this sort of ‘attire’ by heart from his years in Calimport with certainty, and he was correct.

A sort of mystifying, yet disturbing beauty captured his brown eyes.  She was thin from lack of food, marked, and scarred all over.  This was the appearance of a woman who saw much bloodshed in her life.  As the gathering of outlanders formed to question her, one particular hooded woman took her from them.  She wasted no time ordering the slave in a crude language Sid could not decipher, nor could the outlanders.

When Sid offered her his canteen, she did not even waste a drip.  The poor thing was clearly lifeless and dehydrated, he felt.  When he offered to take her to safety, the hooded one took her away, claiming to be helpful.  He stalked the pair in suspicion, for he could see the fear and lack of life in the young woman’s eyes.  He knew already from that moment that she was not being led to safety, but shackles.

His suspicions were nearly correct.  The pair made their way to bath in a holy sanctuary, but it appeared that the bath was not meant for the slave, but her new, temporary owner.  Suspicion and anger were crawling up Sid’s backbone.  As the two took the leave, however, a group of guards drew their blades against the identified Drow ‘caretaker’ and spilled her blood over the cobblestones of Vallaki.

Sid immediately took the girl’s hand and escorted her to freedom:  Degannwy, his home where his family was.  He learned a lot of this woman, who revealed herself as Náriel, a former slave of Calimport, the Underdark, and Thay throughout her thirty year life.  It was, as Sid predicted.  Her tongue was severed at some point, leaving her way of speaking nearly impossible.  Upon reaching the elven settlement, he fed her and gave her his own garb.

He discovered that she was not an uneducated slave, for she had the ability to write quite clearly on cloth with his ink and feather quill he always kept.  They sat for hours exchanging messages while sitting together, and much was learned.  She, too, had been raised by her masters to kill, something she was not proud of nor trained correctly in.  She was, in essence, a caged snake.  When the conversation neared its end, Sid took care of her that evening and pondered what he would do next.

He could pass the knowledge and make her more effective, as well as passing on his ideals he formed with Markrael … Or he could leave her and let her live a life without murder.  What happened next would occur the following morning.

At least, that night, he slept, knowing he made an accomplishment, and that his heart once again found solitude.

[Ric]

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