Sorry for not posting yesterday, I had a power outage that lasted until 20h20.
He didn't know what to do.
Well, he did know, but he felt too weird to think about his mission.
As long as he could remember, he had been a servant of the Circle, bound by his Rune to his master. Pity it had been so long he rmembered nothing about the mage. Still, the mage who had summoned him seemed somewhat vaguely familiar. Maybe he had been his master.
He had very confuse memories of his past life. He seemed to remember taking part in a gigantic battle, whee he had lead armies, bound by the Rune like him but unlike him. Contrary to his army, who were mere shadows of a race, he had been a general, had his own Rune.
And he had died again.
Of the events that had lead to the battle, he remembered next to nothing, only that the two members of the Circle were fighting to prevent the other from being the one who would perform the Convocation.
Still, the battle had opposed men and orcs. The two armies had charged, ready to slaughter, only for the ground to crack and fall before them when they were meters away from each other.
That the ground cracked and fell at this moment might have been interpretated by some as a sign of the Gods to cease fighting. Or it was an effect of the powerful ritual that was the Convocation.
Nevertheless, the armies didn't turn away, they were too mindless for that. They were the Runes who couldn't think, couldn't act by themselves.
And so, amidst the ground falling into the center of Fiara, where small islands floated, surrounded by nothing and onthe verge of falling, the two armies fought.
He had nust finished to kill all the enemies on his "island" when he had heard a boulder flying toward him. He could only watch as the boulder slowly started his fall, accelerating and falling toward him.
And he had died.
It had been eight years ago.
Looking at the clothes Rohen had given him, he could see that they were extremely simples, only to be called armor if one was generous. The weapon was of poor quality too but, as he tried a few swings, he realized that his vague memory of his last life also concerned his proefficiency with weapons. He had never heard of a Rune Warrior forgetting how to fight, that was worrisome. But then again, he had never heard or seen a Rune Warrior staying dead for more than a few weeks.
Each tentaive steps reminding him of how long it had been since he walked Eo again, he contemplated the last thing that weighted his mind. More than the fact that he barely remembered anything about anything, more than the fact that he would be defeated by a lowly goblin in his current state.
The Rune that wzs in his hand. His own Rune.
He could still hzrdly believe that a mage would free a servant of the Rune. Stranger still was the fact that he was free, that no one would force him to do anything, that he was free.
It was a strange feeling.
And so, he turned toward the mesenger.
"How do we go to this town.. Greyfell?"