18th of Ymiden 719
Rakvald laid back in his cot in Iporun Steading in Desnind. He had been thinking a lot lately, about the decline of magic in the world, in the wake of the fall of Emea. He'd been there himself, making the sacrifice of his Immortality, his control of his voice, all in vain. It was all dashed to pieces by an pair of arrogant magi who thought that a mortalborn looked like a healthy snack.
The thought of snacks brought Rakvald's thoughts back to the present, and derailed his attempts at meditation. Perhaps he'd do some active meditation, and give some thought to the boon that Vri had bestowed on him. That he should be able to look into the memories of his fathers, even while having been severed from his reborn status. He thought more often than usual these past few tentrials, of taking his first steps into the wider world of Idalos.
he whipped up a quick sandwich with some jerky and honey spread over the bread. It would have to do. He bit into it, and gave some thought toward how far he'd come since then. As he did so, he found his consciousness wandering from the present, back to that distant memory. His first steps into the world outside of Uthaldria. Into Melrath, and into a fledgling village where he found hospitality for a time, in advance of his brothers' arrival to launch the first raid upon that settlement. Yet he didn't want to delve into the ignomy of that first raid into the lands of the Melrathi. It was a troubling memory, and he had enough troubles as it was, trying to get his farm started in Desnind, contending with the gloominess of his roommate Silaqui, and haunted by thoughts of the sexy merlady Cirrina.
So as he sat there, he remembered the brief good that had come of that first visit into the greater world of Idalos. There had been beer, hospitality, and warmth in plenty offered to him. A harsh contrast to the violent wildness of Uthaldria, even in those days. Icarus had been a thorn in the side of Thetros' people since his inception. Creating monsters far beyond what ought to exist in the natural world. While a part of Rakvald could appreciate such ambitious alterations to life forms, his efforts were often focused on spite and rebellion against the natural order. He was not focused enough to progress his aims, whatever they were. Not that Rakvald was one to judge the mental fitness of a mortalborn, but he thought Icarus was a bit nuts, to be honest!
But that was a distant concern, Icarus hadn't been seen or heard of by Rakvald for many arcs. He sank back into his meditative meal, biting another bit of jerky and honey sandwich, and counting the bites and chews as he clawed away at the active thoughts popping into his head, trying to clear his mind of everything that was bothering him of late.
Before long, he felt himself sinking into a trance, and transported back to the time before he'd arrived on the shores of the Southern Continent, far before. To the time when the first of his line entered Melrath with his brothers, ostensibly for adventure and sight-seeing purposes, although his brothers had more sinister motives...
13th of Ymiden, Arc 336
"I tell you, beyond this pass, lies a land full of docile animals and willing, buxom women." Throst shouted at Rakvald, over the blasting winds of summer. Starri trailed the pair, a dozen meters back and covering their tracks from predators as best he could manage.
"I've seen it myself!"
"Mmhm." Rakvald the First answered, twisting his mouth. He looked over his shoulder, toward the golden fields of the lands they left behind.
It was true, Gauthrel had its share of monsters ravaging the countryside. But he still held out hope that his brothers were equal to the task. Throst had other ideas. To carve out kingdoms and families for themselves in the Northeast. Many others of their kind had similar ideas in those early days, taking to the south, the east, the west and elsewhere. For many of those early arcs and many after, they were a nomadic people.
"But isn't it part of the challenge, Throst? Do you crave a life of ease and abundance, that we should leave our brothers behind indefinitely?"
Starri grunted behind Rakvald. The bonde Lothar turned his head to look over his shoulder, and note that Starri still had one eye on the ground, and another on the path ahead.
"Ha!" Throst's retort was his singular laugh. And that was the end of the argument. He was the warrior among them after all, and his might was the law.
They began the descent to the fertile valley ahead of them.
As they came into view of the small village, Throst clapped Rakvald hard about the shouldere, and leaned into his ear, using his 'indoor voice' which was little more than a shout in actual fact. He said, "Rakvald, little brother, go forth and show them your flock. Let's see how these villagers enjoy a good trade, and Uthaldria raised stock!"
Rakvald nodded to him, "Aye, brother. Perhaps they'll let us in this time, even." So saying, Rakvald clicked his tongue, and tapped his nearest sheep with the butt of his walking stick.
A break of walking later found him in the village proper, after passing through endless pastoral fields and farmlands. The people gave him strange looks, perhaps never having seen one of his kind before. They were newly born to the world, after all, thanks to their beneficent creator Thetros. Yet many of them gave him the evil eye, and spat into the wind as they saw him approach, bearing the makings of a savage outsider.
He walked well into the afternoon. For all the people who cursed him and spat into the wind there were many besides who were interested in what he had to offer. They gave him gold and silver for his stock, and he found himself in considerable wealth. Some even offered to let his remaining beasts graze their fields, while he relaxed and enjoyed the hospitality that the village offered. A kind word could get one far, Rakvald found, and so it was that the village welcomed him with some level of caution.
