Apr 10, 2018 10:56 pm
Oooh, Len idea bouncing time! Or backstory first! My mind is flooding with ideas and I'm delving into Rymente territory.
[ +- ] Ryvid
Ryvid never knew the taste of a silver spoon—a common street rat—he did what he needed to survive. Breaking and entering and sneaking about were common place for Ryvid's early life. Taking here and there what ever was valuable and wasn't bolted down or too heavy to carry. His life of crime ended when his town began getting harassed by a mercenary group. They silenced anyone who raised a voice about them, the small town guard were bribed or too scared to push law to them. As such, crime became a thing controlled by them; this put Ryvid's way of life quickly spiraling into a need to act or die. Hardly a teen, Ryvid walked into the bar the mercenaries claimed as theirs and challenged the leader—a man of a great towering height, and muscles so large he could shatter boulders simply by looking at them—to a one on one combat. The leader laughed a thunderous laugh that nearly shook the room; be it the need to not be shown as weak declining combat from a kid or something else, he accepted. The time and place was set.
The leader stood, close to 8 feet, surrounded with his men; Ryvid stood alone, a frail little street boy in shoddy clothes and only a long string. The leader grinned as he drew his curved sword "This will be a quick fight." he mocked, as Ryvid picked up a rock and slung it forward. The leader was right, the fight was quick; the speeding rock pierced the leaders eye, dropping him instantly. Ryvid calmly picked up another rock and looked amongst the mercenary group; they all scattered, leaving the town out of fear.
Afterwards, Ryvid became his town hero, you could hear Ryvid's name without it being accompanied by praise. He was asked to join the army, a fine alternative to his previous life a crime, he accepted. Though he liked not having to struggle day to day, he felt empty, a need that wasn't filled; he quit after 6 months. He used the money he earned from his time serving and used it to buy two sheep and a plot of land; something the sellers were grateful to sell to such a legend at a discount. He picked up religion and his flock grew; he found what he was looking for—peace. And peaceful it was for some time, he'd receive many visits from townspeople thanking him and requests of help for pest problems that he was happy to oblige—taking only what he needed in reward.
A haunting past comes back to haunt though, a dark cloud on a sunny day. The mercenary group from before, a deed left to sit and rot, to grow in malice and scorn. Sought out the one that sent them running, labeling them as cowards to a simple boy. A silent approach as he partook in his daily bread and a number of five to his one; he quickly found himself a captive. A quick death was asked for but was hardly taken into consideration; suffering is what they came for. His flock was brought forth to him, one by one, the mercenaries slit their throats to shower him in blood. After the last one, the beatings came; time stretched on as each took their time, punch after punch, kick after kick dropping him to the floor in a pool of his own and his flock's blood. There was no stop to their task though, as they each used him for a final time—an act out of hate and disrespect more than lust—then tied it off by cutting out his heart. Their task was still not finished though, as they tied his corpse to their wagon and paraded it around town; striking fear into the town and spitting on his image as they left. He was thrown off to the side of a road to be forgotten as they grew tired with dragging him and no longer in view of anyone that knew his tales.
He awoke confused—a bad dream was it? He felt his chest and received a sinking feeling, scarred flesh where his heart is. Was this dream an actual reality? The scar certainly confirms it as true—should I not be dead, he asked himself.
The leader stood, close to 8 feet, surrounded with his men; Ryvid stood alone, a frail little street boy in shoddy clothes and only a long string. The leader grinned as he drew his curved sword "This will be a quick fight." he mocked, as Ryvid picked up a rock and slung it forward. The leader was right, the fight was quick; the speeding rock pierced the leaders eye, dropping him instantly. Ryvid calmly picked up another rock and looked amongst the mercenary group; they all scattered, leaving the town out of fear.
Afterwards, Ryvid became his town hero, you could hear Ryvid's name without it being accompanied by praise. He was asked to join the army, a fine alternative to his previous life a crime, he accepted. Though he liked not having to struggle day to day, he felt empty, a need that wasn't filled; he quit after 6 months. He used the money he earned from his time serving and used it to buy two sheep and a plot of land; something the sellers were grateful to sell to such a legend at a discount. He picked up religion and his flock grew; he found what he was looking for—peace. And peaceful it was for some time, he'd receive many visits from townspeople thanking him and requests of help for pest problems that he was happy to oblige—taking only what he needed in reward.
A haunting past comes back to haunt though, a dark cloud on a sunny day. The mercenary group from before, a deed left to sit and rot, to grow in malice and scorn. Sought out the one that sent them running, labeling them as cowards to a simple boy. A silent approach as he partook in his daily bread and a number of five to his one; he quickly found himself a captive. A quick death was asked for but was hardly taken into consideration; suffering is what they came for. His flock was brought forth to him, one by one, the mercenaries slit their throats to shower him in blood. After the last one, the beatings came; time stretched on as each took their time, punch after punch, kick after kick dropping him to the floor in a pool of his own and his flock's blood. There was no stop to their task though, as they each used him for a final time—an act out of hate and disrespect more than lust—then tied it off by cutting out his heart. Their task was still not finished though, as they tied his corpse to their wagon and paraded it around town; striking fear into the town and spitting on his image as they left. He was thrown off to the side of a road to be forgotten as they grew tired with dragging him and no longer in view of anyone that knew his tales.
He awoke confused—a bad dream was it? He felt his chest and received a sinking feeling, scarred flesh where his heart is. Was this dream an actual reality? The scar certainly confirms it as true—should I not be dead, he asked himself.
[ +- ] Idea party!
Still a spoiler as it somewhat details for background, in case peeps don't want to know Ryvid's.
Okay, I was thinking since Ryvid was dead; a large amount of time could have passed and his God is no longer followed or in the process of dying out. Ryvid was resurrected by this God (maybe the God was losing his Godlyness and he was just like 'fuck it, let's check my books. Ryvid followed me and died horribly; here's a second chance buddy.'). Maybe this is where his sling came from? Kind of combats the introductory of treasure hunter I think, but fits Ryvid better. I like the idea of the knife being exclusive to his religion, like in regards of a kirpan.
Okay, I was thinking since Ryvid was dead; a large amount of time could have passed and his God is no longer followed or in the process of dying out. Ryvid was resurrected by this God (maybe the God was losing his Godlyness and he was just like 'fuck it, let's check my books. Ryvid followed me and died horribly; here's a second chance buddy.'). Maybe this is where his sling came from? Kind of combats the introductory of treasure hunter I think, but fits Ryvid better. I like the idea of the knife being exclusive to his religion, like in regards of a kirpan.