Chapter 13: The Truth of Rog

- Mages Tor, Fourth Floor. Approximately five minutes earlier. -

Once their bindings had been removed, it did not take long for Varus and Alistair to escape their makeshift cell. While the door to the room they were in was locked, now that they had the use of their arms it was a small task to drop down the hole in the floor and into the room below.

The room was, as they had seen before, nothing more than a makeshift store room. A quick check of the barrels and boxes revealed nothing more than blankets, straw and other miscellaneous items. When they came to leave, the door was not locked, causing Varus to scoff, "Amateurs." The landing beyond was, once more, completely free of any guards. They could hear some commotion occurring a few floors below however, presumably connected to the scream they had heard.

Alistair went to follow the sounds, but his arm was swiftly grabbed by Varus, prompting a curious look towards him. "We do not yet have our weapons back. We had best find them before seeking any trouble" he whispered, and Alsitair nodded in agreement.

This turned out not to be too time consuming, as upon climbing up a floor back to where they had been kept the second door to the side of their cell had contained all of their confiscated items within a small storage cupboard. As they were swiftly re-equipping, Varus paused. "Something about this isn't right. Even the most disorganised bandits should have better defense than this" he muttered.

Alistair finished tying his dagger sheathes to his belt. "I know what you mean. Perhaps they are just starting out?" he asked. Varus scoffed "And their first choice to start out is a child trafficking ring? We need answers here." Alistair nodded in agreement, and the two left the room and started to descend the spiral staircase once more.

The only bit of resistance they encountered on their way down was on the second floor. The only door on the floor was wide open, with the sound of chattering kids coming out from it, all loudly discussing the strangers that had barged in on them. "Well, guess we now know what the commotion was. That means they now have our allies…" Varus whispered. Alistair nodded worriedly "...Indira…" he thought.

Once they had managed to dash across the doorway without being seen by the children's curious glances, they descended to the ground floor. Here, they found a small hall that had the main door to the outside as well as two other doors. Placing their ears to the nearest one, they were able to make out a conversation within, but the thick wood made discerning what they were saying difficult.

Varus pulled away, before nodding his head towards the other door. Alistair went to follow, but had a look of confusion on his face. "I'm sure I recognise that voice...but from where?" he thought. Beyond the other door was a room set up as a makeshift bedroom, complete with bed, wardrobe and desk. On the opposite side was another door, presumably leading into the room that they had heard the voices coming from.

Varus poked around the various containers in the room, seeing if he could find any evidence of what it was they did here. Alistair had approached the door, and indeed he could hear voices once more. He still could not make out what was being said, frustrating him no end. "I've got to find out what's going on." He reached down to the handle, giving it an experimental turn. The handle turned with surprisingly little noise for such an old mechanism, allowing him to crack the door open slightly. Once he did, he heard that familiar voice once more.

Peering with one eye through the gap, he was able to make out the figure of Garrick, held in place currently by Benston. He then moved in an attempt to locate Indira, or any of his other companions. As his eyes swept the room however, they landed on a black-haired man that immediately made him stop in shock.

For a moment, his mind's eye overlaid the man he was seeing with another, younger man. He had the same hairstyle, minus the grey streaks. He had the same beard, the same build...the same scar across his eye. In his memory, flashes of past events occurred. Fire...his mother dragging him along in an attempt to get away from danger. An arrow hitting her in the leg, causing her to fall. Her shouting at him to run and get away. Him crying and running, turning to see the black-haired man standing over his mother and finishing her with a thrust of his sword…his eyes glazed over uncaring at the death he had caused...

Tears started to form in his eyes. "Rog…" he whispered. He then felt rage. More rage than he had ever felt before. He started to growl, and grabbed his daggers from his belt. Varus had heard his quiet words, and turned towards him. When he saw him draw his weapons, he tried to call out "No, don't!", but Alistair was beyond the point of listening.

He booted the door open with a scream of "ROG!". He completely ignored everyone's startled stare in his direction, he only had eyes for the man that had made his life a misery...the man staring back at him far too calmly. "I've finally found you. Today you pay for what you did. Today you DIE!" he shouted, before charging headlong at him.

As he ran across the gap between them and brought his daggers up to strike, Rog made no movements to dodge or intercept. He simply appeared prepared to take the attack, an almost accepting look in his eyes. Before Alistair could reach him, however, a figure had stepped in between them. "Wait!" Indira called, holding her hands up towards him.

Alistair faltered, unable to get past her to strike without the risk of injuring her in the process. He stopped just before her, his focus still on Rog. "Move Indira! He is who I have been looking for all this time, he is the man who killed my Mother!" Indira paused, undecided as to whether she should allow Alistair to continue with his attack. Her eyes were full of tears, torn as she was.

Rog backed up and sat heavily upon a chair on the other side of the room. "Let him past, lass. Perhaps I deserve what he wishes to do." Rog said with a heavy tone. Benston disagreed, it seemed. "You can't Os! You can't just let them…" He was interrupted when Garrick took advantage of his distraction, grabbing his arm and spinning them around so that their positions were reversed and Garrick was now holding Benston hostage. "I think this is between them currently, yes?" he muttered, causing Benston to go quiet once more.

Indira looked to Alistair, who finally looked her in the eyes. She pleaded silently for a moment, before stepping aside. Alistair stalked past, no longer running but still approaching Rog with purpose. "So, Rog...or is it Os now? Do they even know what you did in the past?" he growled, gesturing to Benston with his chin.

"I assume you are referring to something that happened approximately seventeen years ago? And I prefer Os, if you would. Too many bad memories with my old name." Os spoke softly. Alistair reached him at this point, and held one of his daggers to his neck. "Aw, killed too many people did you? Can't sleep at night because you still see them? Well guess what, that's how everyone whose loved ones you killed feel!" Alistair raged. Indira was starting to cry to the side of the group, and even Na'ish appeared more emotional than usual.

"If you are expecting me to deny that I did that, you would be mistaken." Os spoke, unwavering despite the dagger to his throat. He ignored the startled gasp from Benston, who seemed not to have known this. "But, if you would grant me a moment, I can perhaps explain a bit better. I realise nothing I say can make up for what happened, but you need to know the truth if you are to realise what occurred back then." Alistair was still for several moments, before lowering the dagger. "Start talking" he spat.

Os sighed. "It started around twenty years ago. I was a captain of the guard, charged with looking over the town of Mirrormere. My group consisted of the usual swordsmen and archers, but we also had a small mage regiment from the college in Astor. Not unusual, as several mages graduate from the place and wish to see the world, usually for their research. One of these mages was a young Drow named Talan." Os rubbed his eyes, as if the memory was giving him a headache. Alistair had little patience however. "And? What does he have to do with you going on a murder spree, killing those you were meant to protect?"

"Everything." Os continued. "What to say about Talan...he was gifted in magic, unnaturally so. He always seemed eager to help, but something about him set my instincts on edge. He would disappear for periods at a time, with no apparent explanation. At the same time, people would wind up disappearing in Mirrormere. The timing was suspicious, but Talan always had an alibi...even from people who, even the day before, would have sworn they hated the man. Without proof, I could not investigate. At least, not officially…"

Os looked around, to see that even Alistair was listening attentively. "I followed him one night. Found him entering an old abandoned basement. Upon entry, I was horrified to find many of the missing citizens. Some chained up, many already dead. Those were the lucky ones. Many more had had inhumane experiments conducted on them. Adults, children...it seemed he did not care who he put through the process." Os was gaining a few tears in his eyes by now, but Alistair gave him a small prod with his dagger to keep him talking.

"Anyway...I turned to leave, intent on telling my superior exactly what was going on. But when I turned, it was to meet Talan standing between me and the entrance, his hand pointing my way and a spell already on his lips." He gave a slight choking hiccup here, before continuing. "...The world went dark for me. Then when I awoke, I was aware of everything I was doing but could not control it. Talan had taken control of me, forced me to do his bidding. For three long, bloody years, that maniac forced me and my men to gather children for his sick experiments. We killed anyone who got in our way. This, this is what would have happened with your mother…"

Os calmed down slightly, having raised his voice towards the end of his explanation. "I eventually broke free about sixteen years ago, on the outskirts of Mirrormere once more. To this day, I'm unsure if Talan simply let me go, to live with what I had done. Or, he forgot to reapply whatever he was using to keep me loyal. Regardless, all I had left were a few of my men, who had also recovered. Most of my men were either already dead or had moved elsewhere. And I have had to live with myself ever since."

He then gestured around him at the tower. "It was because of that that I started this Orphanage with the remaining men that had survived the ordeal with me. As a way to help those struck by war and similar things to the atrocities that I had caused. Anything to prevent the orphans being collected by the likes of Talan. I also gathered like minded individuals, keen to help." He then gestured to Benston, who had been listening quietly to the whole explanation. Garrick had long since stopped holding him so tightly, as he had stopped struggling.

Alistair had faltered. All of this new information was hard to process...and even harder to believe. "You expect me to believe that? That you were controlled for years?" Os shook his head sadly "I can hardly blame you for being sceptical. I wouldn't believe it myself. All I can say is...think back to that time. All those men, they had something in common. We showed no emotion, no remorse for what we were doing. We just had…" "Glazed over eyes…" Alistair spoke at the exact same time as Os, who then nodded.

Alistair took a step back. He then scowled, and raised his dagger. Before anyone could react, he brought the weapon down...and embedded it into the wall by Os' head. He then gave a frustrated scream, before he turned and sprinted out of the room once more, past Varus who had entered the room sometime during the conversation.

Indira immediately went to follow. Her guard made an attempt to stop her, but was halted by Os, "Let the lass go." When the two had left the room, an uncomfortable silence followed. Then, Garrick entirely let go of Benston, who immediately walked up to Os. "Is this all true?" he asked tentatively. Os just gave a small nod. "It is. I understand if you no longer wish to aid me, old friend."

"Are you mad?!" Benston shouted, surprising Os. "If what you said is true, then what we are doing is more important than ever! We can't let this Talan get hold of more children. I only wish you had been honest with me sooner...old friend." Here, Os gained the first smile any of the group had seen since arriving. He stood, and he and Benston shared a manly embrace. When finished, he then turned a more serious look to Garrick. "And what of you and your group?"

Garrick and Na'ish exchanged looks. Na'ish then shrugged, as if to indicate it was Garrick's decision. Garrick looked back to them and sighed. "We came here, concerned that there was a possible child trafficking ring. Something none of us were willing to allow to continue. Now, it turns out that is exactly what you were attempting to prevent." He stepped forward, and offered his hand to Os. "As far as I'm concerned, I believe you. And I hope that you remain successful in avoiding this Talan fellow."

Os nodded and accepted the handshake. "And what of your friend?" he gestured towards the door that Alistair had run out of. Garrick sighed, "...only time will tell." The two were interrupted by a huff of air from Varus. They turned to look at him as he leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed. "So...can we leave this place? I'm getting tired of the smell of mildew and old men." Garrick gave a light scowl as Os laughed.

Alistair ran out of the tower and past all the tents. He ran until he reached the wooden logs of the outer wall. Rather than open the gate, he chose instead to run up and punch the wooden logs in sheer frustration. "Stupid" he shouted, punching the wood once more, uncaring of the ache forming in his knuckles. "Stupid Rog, or Os, or whatever!" he punched again, a cut opening on his hand and bleeding slightly. "Stupid Talan…" he went to punch again, but was stopped by a hand grabbing his wrist.

Turning, it was to see Indira crying and shaking her head. She then immediately closed the distance and hugged him, crying into his chest. "I'm sorry...I'm so sorry" she spoke softly. Alistair was shocked at first, but started to calm down. He patted her head awkwardly "...You have nothing to apologise for. I'm sorry. For scaring you again…"

Indira just shook her head, and the two stayed like this in silence for a while. Eventually, she pulled back and looked up to him. "Feeling better?" she tentatively asked. Alistair sighed. "I feel angry still...but not so much at Ro...er, Os. Talan, on the other hand…", he left the rest unsaid. Indira just nodded. No matter what happened, she would help her friend.

"Ahh, that's the stuff!" Rogon sighed in satisfaction, as he finished his third cup of tea. Not his usual fare, but tea was tea! So what if he hadn't found that weird cat, or any information on the bandits in this area. He would leave that to the others. As he reached for the kettle once more, the tent flap opened, causing him to pause.

In strode Os, who paused at the sight of Rogon sat there. Rogon also tensed up, ready to defend himself if needed. "...This one with you too?" Os called back, confusing Rogon momentarily. His confusion cleared up as Na'ish and Varus entered the tent behind him, and Rogon released his tension. Clearly, things had indeed been cleared up in his absence.

"Oh, er. Hey guys!" he waved, and Na'ish gave a small wave back. Varus just grunted. "Unfortunately, yes" before he walked over and slumped down into one of the seats nearby. Os nodded, before making his way over to the desk "Very well. I would offer you all a drink, but it looks as though someone beat us to it…"

Rogon rubbed his neck bashfully, as he offered the kettle to Na'ish as he also sat down. Na'ish took it and poured himself a drink. When he went to pass it to Varus, he just waved him off. Rogon then leaned over to his companions, "So, who's the bearded guy?" Na'ish took a drink and sighed. "Long story." He then proceeded to inform Rogon of what had transpired in the tower.

"This is a view I could get used to…" Garrick thought, as he looked out to the horizon where the setting sun was casting a golden glow onto the fields below. In an attempt to clear his mind, he climbed the ladder onto the roof of the tower. Here, he could look out and watch as the sun set. They had learned a lot about Os' past, and the thought that there was possibly still a Drow out there targeting children left a bad taste in his mouth.

While he was thinking on this new problem, he was interrupted by a crow landing on the merlon next to him. It cawed at him, and Garrick looked to it with a raised eyebrow. "Why hello there. Fearless, aren't you?" he muttered. The crow hopped over the crenel onto the nearest merlon, before bobbing and cawing again. Garrick sighed and reached into his shoulder pack.

"Or, you're just hungry. Little cretin…" he said, as he retrieved a section of dried jerky. Before he had even offered it out, the crow had hopped forward and snatched the meat, throwing it back and swallowing it in one move. It then cawed and tilted it's head at him as if asking for more.

"Sorry. No more for you. Need these rations to get to Astor. Now shoo." The crow didn't seem as if it was going to budge, but it took off in a flap of feathers when a large thump sounded out from behind them. Turning, Garrick watched as Alistair was climbing out of the trapdoor on the floor. As he stood up and patted himself down, he turned and noticed that he was not alone.

"Ah, sorry. Didn't think anyone was going to be up here…" Alistair muttered. Garrick waved him off, and turned back to the sunset. "Not my roof, I'm merely enjoying it. I guess you've done the same?" Alistair walked forward and stood by the battlements next to Garrick. "Yeah, just needed to think for a bit, you know?" Garrick nodded, and the two looked out to the horizon as the sun sank lower. Before it sank all the way, Garrick turned and started to make his way back to the trapdoor.

"Well, I will leave you to it. It's getting late, and these old bones can't stay awake as long as they used to." Alistair cracked a small smile, before growing serious again. "You realise, that now I will be going after Talan? Just as soon as I find out more about him?"

Garrick paused. "I am not surprised." Alistair turned to look at him. "Not going to tell me I shouldn't seek revenge, or something?" Garrick just started to step onto the ladder, "I would be a hypocrite if I did…" before he descended down into the tower. Alistair frowned in thought, before he returned his attention to the sun, just as it dropped below the horizon and the land was cast in the shadows of night.

Character Profile

Name: Garrick

Race: Human

Class: Ranger

Subclass: Survivalist (Homebrew)

A soldier from the lands of Savarrah, Garrick has a penchant for traps. Presumably retired from the army, he was wandering Lumeria in an attempt to forget his past. His sense of justice prevented him from sitting by, however, when the threat of the Shadows emerged in Grayben's Bay. he clearly has a chip on his shoulder in regards to Rogon, or Orcs in general, though why none can say. Perhaps it has something to do with the war which he was a part of...