Walking in His Shoes

[Outbreak1992]

Chapter One – Ramsay Black

Stepping off the boat onto the docks was a strange feeling, freedom is the only word to express what Ramsay was feeling, no irons bound to him, no orders to follow, he was free to do whatever he desired. Habits die hard though and adjusting to this new life would not be easy for him, it had been years since any bounty hunters had turned up wanting to deliver his corpse back to Varana, his captor back in Cuhannan was certainly not coming for him, unless it was from beyond the grave. He took a deep inhale of the fresh air, the foul stench of fish didn’t seem to affect him one bit, he was just content in the fact for the first time in his life, and for the first time, he was his own man. Over the years had travelled a fair amount of the world, yet Dasaria was one of the few lands he had yet to step foot on, he knew nothing about the place, only one thing… That somewhere in this province he could find his father, what they would say to each other after meeting after such a long time, well he didn’t know, I doubt he even cared, just to see a familiar face would be enough. Tracking him down though would be difficult and take time, stepping off the docks his eyes and ears naturally drew him to the Vissen tavern, heck he hadn’t even seen a glass of whiskey in almost a decade.

Once inside he was overwhelmed by the smell of ale, he didn’t care though, being stuck in a crate for a length sea voyage left enough aches and pains to practically warrant a drink, his eyes darted from the various tables, looking for a passed out patron or an on-going card game to get some crowns, all he was the clothes on his back. No passed out patrons to pinch a crown off for a drink but taverns down in the docks, now there is always a card game on somewhere, having a quick look around the taverns it didn’t take long for him to spot a group of patron’s playing cards. Keeping his distant at first, he started to eye up the players, standard gambling folk really coming from all walks of life, some small time merchants, others being hired blades, but that didn’t matter, what mattered was how many crowns they had for them to lose. That was the first part complete, now he actually needed at least a few crowns to get into the game, looking over his person he looked for anything he could waged to get started, aside from his clothes all he was a dagger and it certainly wasn’t anything fancy, he would lucky to get even a single crown for it, but he had to start somewhere. Sitting down at the table he places the dagger down, the players all looking up from their cards to eye him up, now it was time to bluff his way into the game “Alright lads, saw you’re playing some cards, got this dagger here from Cuhannan, made by the finest blacksmiths in the land, yeah it’s seen some action and isn’t worth what it used to be… But I’m nothing but honest, so give a young lad a chance and this here dagger will represent just a mere five crowns, how does that sound?” he says in a confident manner, giving his best honest smile, trying to keep eye contact with all the players. Surprisingly majority of the players were quite convinced and agreed to let him play, expect for the card dealer, it came apparent to Ramsay that this guy was no new kid when it came to down to the game, leaning back in his chair as he shuffled the cards he studies Ramsay and motions to him to pass the dagger over for closer inspection, Ramsay of course hands it straight over. The card dealer examines the blade for a few moments, taking note of some minor blood stains on the weapon before eventually speaking up “This ‘ere blade kid, anit no weapon you should be havin’ this ‘ere is Cuhannan slavers blade, you anit no slave are ya kid?” the dealer narrowing his eyes, like he is trying to get a confession out of Ramsay, something Ramsay quickly picks up on “Probably is, I’m not here to answer questions, where I got that blade is no concern of yours, now I can take this elsewhere and maybe somebody else will win that blade off me, unless of course… You’re just scared this kid will be taking those crows off you.” He cockily blurts out, followed by a smirk whilst the rest of the players look to the dealers, after Ramsay’s challenge, the card dealer tosses the blade back over to him “Pah, I anit scared of no kid, I can best any man or boy at cards, sit down kid… I’ll make you eat those words when I send you back to mama crying and empty handed.” He grumbles out annoyed, as he starts to throw the cards in front of the players, taking his seat Ramsay studies each man’s face to get a base line, to determine any difference once they start to play.

Two of six men instantly fold after looking at their cards, sitting back to watch the game play out, looking down at his cards Ramsay gives nothing away, playing cards was one of his gifts in life, it was also it’s downfall, something he learnt not to abuse. As more cards are laid down, another man folds leaving just Ramsay, the card dealer and one of the small time merchants, it had already became apparent to Ramsay that the merchant wasn’t an experienced player, but they all throw crowns in the middle and the dagger “If nobody’s raisin’ again, let’s see what ya got.” Says the dealer as he pushes his own crowns into the centre, the merchant goes first putting down a three of a kind, followed by the dealer who puts down a four of a king, grinning at the merchant “Sorry Jimbo, but looks like the wife is going to kick your arse again.” The merchant just shakes his head and drinks, not reacting to the dealer, who is now staring at Ramsay. Looking at his cards then the cards in the middle, Ramsay remains quiet “What’s the matter kid? Anit got the cards to win?” the dealer says in an arrogant manner “What gave you that idea? I think you’ll find I have all the right cards.” He says calmly as he places down his cards to reveal a straight flush, his arms extending forward to retrieve his winning, whilst the dealer sits there speechless “Right I think I’ll be going now gents, mother always said never over stay your welcome.” Grinning at the dealer as he pockets the crowns “Wha… what? How!? I anit ever been beaten! Especially no fresh faced little brat… Where did you learn to play cards!” standing up as he begins to get angry at his lose. Before leaving Ramsay leaning over picking up the bottle of whiskey on the table and pouring it into one of the clean glasses, necking it “Hey… You’ve got it, or you don’t mate… Cheers for the drink” he says before leaving the tavern. The thing is about cards, nobody said to be good at the game to win, all you need are the right cards and if those right cards happen to be up your sleeve, then winning is easy. Staying true to his word Ramsay didn’t over stay his welcome and quickly moved on to the next tavern in town, looking at his winning he had made about sixty crowns, enough for a drink and a room, perfect start to a new life in Cear.

[Outbreak1992]

Chapter Two – Xarion Black

Five months earlier…

Constable Black paced up and down in his quarters, something was on his mind upon his desk was a crude letter, he stopped at stared at it, the look of disgust on his face said it all, picking up his flask he drinks some whiskey, he seems somewhat distant at first as he continues to pace, drinking as he does so. His brain was in overdrive, constantly ticking away as he processed the information in the letter, he could hardly believe what he was reading “How is this possible… Is somebody playing a damn game!?” he barked out, as he moved back over to the desk, swiping the letter up as read it a second time, maybe he miss read it, this can’t be true. He still continues to pace as he read the letter over and over again, he stops and slumps down in the chair at his desk, casting the letter back down “All these years… This must be wrong… I saw it for myself… But… My sources don’t lie, they have never been mistaken in the past.” He said out loud to himself. For one of the first time in his life, Xarion was mentally broken, he couldn’t think straight, his mind a complete mess not like it was bad enough his body was dying, now his mind was, he tried to compose himself but it just seemed impossible, his son was sighted alive in Cuhannan, how can this be… He was dead, murdered by his own kin so how is it possible that he is alive and well, this had to be some such of twisted game yet he had spoken about his son since his murder, so how could anybody know in this land, it was impossible wasn’t it? These thoughts circled round and round in his head, what should he do? Should he abandoned everything he has made for himself in Dasaria and go find his son, or was this just some plot to get him at his most vulnerable, so many questions… But no answers to accompany them, he scrunched up the letter and marched over to the fireplace throwing the letter into the flames and started to prepare his armour for duty, but he wasn’t going on his normal patrol, this time he was going out for answers and he didn’t care how he was going to get them.

Descending the guardhouse stairs his attention was solely focused on the news in the letter, a few constables attempted to greet him good morning but all they got in return was being pushed out of his way, his face was picture of anger, concern and determination, he was heading straight to the docks, straight to his informant. The hour was early, dawn was just on the horizon a sight this informant had probably never seen, but he was today as he door was booted down and flew across his living space “Arthur you little weasel! Get your sorry arse out here before I drag it out into the streets for all to see!” Xarion bellowed out, kicking in the various doors in the hovel he discovers Arthur still in bed with a woman, even the bed wasn’t spared from Xarion’s boot as he practically ripped Arthur out his pit, both of his hands grasped around his neck as he thrown against the wall, his feet not even touching the floor. The woman quickly became distressed and didn’t know what to do “I suggest you get your clothes and @#$% off lady, I need to have word with this disgusting little worm.” His cold gaze moving from the woman to Arthur, the woman no sooner said than done, ran off into the morning mist. Arthur found himself in quite a situation, he couldn’t fight back especially when he realised who had his head firmly pressed against the wall “I want answers Arthur, I want to know who thinks it’s amusing to test my patience, I want to know anything you might of heard of a Ramsay Black… And I don’t suggest lying to me, I can quite easily snap that neck of yours and cast your corpse into the ocean, so speak quickly!” he barked. Being the coward that he is Arthur quickly begins to try and beg for his life, Xarion slams his fist into the wall beside Arthur’s head, punching a hole in the wall, Arthur gulps “I.. I… I don’t know anything about a Ramsay! I swear!” he stutters out in fear “Don’t lie to me Arthur! Or the next hole is in your face” snaps Xarion as he tightens the grip around Arthur’s neck, who proceeds to start choking as the grip gets tighter. Arthurs face begins to go purple as he struggles to breathe “I swear Constable! I know nothing… But! I can find out! Just spare my life, I beg of you!” pleads Arthur “You best find out Arthur, or that means you’re not very useful to me… Alive anyway.” Says Xarion as he throws him across the room, leaving the hovel as Arthur slumps in the corner of the room, gasping for air.

[Outbreak1992]

Chapter Three – Ramsay Black

Waking up the next morning was strange experience, it took him a good ten minutes to realise where he was and that he wasn’t dreaming, his hand naturally went for his blade as he assessed the room, the room was clear but it took him a moment to remember that there was nobody here to kill him. Once he had settled down and was convinced he was alone, he sat on the edge of the bed, twirling the dagger in his hands, looking at his exposed body his eyes were drawn to the brand on his chest, he had his freedom now but the brand would never go away, as usually it would start to cause him pain and discomfort. Standing before the mirror he stared at the brand, the sight of it would anger him, barely able to look at it, black death… that’s the last name anybody wants burnt into their chest, maybe it could of healed providing his captors didn’t rebrand it anytime it started to heal up, by this stage the series of burns to his chest were beyond repair. He glanced at the desk at the remaining crowns he had left, not enough to get the medical supplies he would require, that would have to wait though, first things first, he would require a sword so he can actual do some work. It was too early to get play anymore cards, he grumbled as he prepared himself to venture out into the city, looks like his first set of jobs would be with a dagger.

Spending the next few days taking up various contracts, Ramsay went on to earn enough crowns to buy some equipment, spending money to make money. He had a room to stay in, a sword and shield to fight with and enough crowns for a bottle whiskey each night, he was more than happy but there was still work to do, it was time to track down Xarion. Where to start? The tavern of course and surprisingly it didn’t take long at all to get some questions answered, starting in Vissen Tavern he ordered himself a drink and sat at the bar, it was quiet at this time so there weren’t many folks to question but if anybody was going to have answers, it’s going to be the bartender. Taking a drink from his whiskey he starts some small talk, asking about the tavern, the city and the regulars before asking the question “I’m looking for a middle aged man, goes by the name Xarion Black.” He bluntly asks, “You mean Constable Black? Yeah I know him, he comes in here often, puts a fair amount of crowns behind the bar… He also manages to break a lot of the furniture, got a tendency for getting into brawls, leaving this tavern in a right state… But I’ll give him his due, he pays for his damages and keeps trouble out of here.” The bartender explains, he scratches his chin “But I haven’t seen him in months which is odd, he is usually in here every week… He must have an assignment overseas or something.” He explains further. Taking another swig from his drink “So he’s with the fleet then?” asks Ramsay, the bartender answering with a nod “I see… Thanks for the drink, here’s a little something extra.” He says as he finishes his drink and places some additional crowns on the bar.
He stood outside the guardhouse for a few moments, watching as the constables came in and out, he couldn’t bring himself to walk in, all he could think about is what would he say to him if he was there, it’s been so long since they last saw each other, they were probably two very different people now. Taking his flask out and knocking back some whiskey he eventually walks in, his gaze looks into the cells at the criminals as he made his way up to the front desk, where one of the higher ranking officers sat doing his paperwork “Ahem, I’m looking for a Constable Black, is he here?” Ramsay nervously asked, looking around expecting to his face, the officer just continued to do his paperwork but didn’t ignore him “And who might you be? I can’t disclose the whereabouts of your constables to any civilian that walks in here.” He states “I’m Ramsay Black, I’m his son.” The officer looks up from his paperwork and studies his face “That’s impossible, our records state that Constable Black had no offspring, so why don’t you run along before you find yourself in a cell.” The officer narrows his eyes at Ramsay, as he starts to question his intentions. Taking the hint Ramsay backs away from the desk “Fine, don’t need to tell me twice… Sorry that I bothered you” he grumbles as makes his way out of the guardhouse, annoyed and frustrated.

Later that night Ramsay sat alone in the misty vale, thinking about what the officer said and what he could do about, if he wasn’t going to discuss the whereabouts of his father, he would have to find out for himself, glancing out the window he took note of the moons position, it was around midnight, necking his drink he leaves and surveys the guardhouse from the outside. He took note of the constables patrol routes and waited till the guardhouse was at its most vulnerable and starts to climb up to the first floor and climbing through an open window, looking around he was in a corridor and there were various doors with plagues upon them, these must be the guard’s quarters, surely Xarion had a room here. Keeping his wits about him he moved down the dark corridor silently, looking for the right room, until he spotted it and made a dash for it but the door was locked, taking out some lock picking tools he starts to unlock the door, as he does so he starts to hear footsteps from around the corner and the chatter of a pair of constables. Naturally this panicked him and for good reason, gods only knows what would happen to him if he was caught, but the door wouldn’t unlock and the footsteps were getting closer and closer, just as they reached the corner the door sprung open and Ramsay quickly slide in and closed the door quietly behind him. He exhaled as he pressed against the door listening, he heard another door open then close, they had gone so he turned around to look at the room, the floor was coated in dried blood and cob webs, the room had been abandoned for months. The sight of the blood didn’t do him any good, naturally fearing the worst but there was no body, maybe the bounty hunters had found him, had he been able to fight them off? He looked at the bed which was a mess, it was obvious he had been awoken by his attacker, he moved over to the desk which was cluttered with paperwork, whiskey bottles and wanted posters, it was all fleet work so he starts looking through the draws which contained nothing of interest, so he moved onto the wardrobe which had all his clothing still present, his uniform was still on the armour manikin. His eyes darted around the room looking for anything, he noticed a lockbox under the bed and pulled it out, and it had three padlocks on it so that told him that whatever was inside was important. The locks were no easy feat to pick and it took him a good half hour to just get through the first one alone, once he had all three locks off he took a deep breath and opened the box. Emptying the contents of the box he came across two books, one rather old and another fairly new, the old book had a dark appearance to it, the mere look of screamed evil, the other one however was just a standard book, flicking through the pages it became apparent that this was his journal. Placing the two books down he continued to look through the box, the next item he found was a folder and had a quick look inside as well, these were case files but why were they hidden away? He glanced up as the door as he heard more voices and footsteps, he couldn’t linger much longer as dawn was rapidly approaching, so he put that down and went through the last of the box’s contents. It was mainly just mementos such as rings, small weaponry and some canvas drawings, this he thought was odd as from what he remembered his father hated art, he recalled a time when his mother was encouraging him to draw and his father dismissed the idea, saying that it was pointless, being more worthwhile for Ramsay to pursue more training in combat. He could even remember what he was drawing the time his father caught him in the woods alone, drawing some wildlife just weeks before their home was raided by bounty hunters, he threw the drawing off into the forest and dragged him off to train. Looking through the artwork he saw that a lot of the work was from what his Ramsay’s mother had done, he stopped dead as shuffled through them when he spotted the same drawing he had done that day in the forest, how had he gotten it, why did he have it? He looked through the lockbox but there was only three rolled up pieces of parchment left. Looking out the window it was still dark, sure he had time to read it so he picked up the books, the folder and the drawing and placed them on the desk in a stack, then unravelled the first piece of parchment. The first one was addressed to his mother, so he looked at the next one which was to his sister, he then unravelled the last one which was addressed to him.

To the son I never knew…

I know this letter will never reach you and I wish you were still alive to read it, it’s a cruel environment you were brought into my son and I wish it hadn’t of been that way, it’s because of me that you, your sister and mother are dead… I wish we could of had the life that you all deserved but I take comfort in the fact that soon, I shall join you all… My end won’t be by the sword like I always wanted but the fate I shall receive is what I deserve, I’ve been dying for months now and I feel the end is close by, I have never desired sympathy or remorse for what is eating away at me, I’m dying from the inside and I don’t mind that, there hasn’t been life within me since the day I failed you… It angers me that they will get away with what they brought upon us, it should have been me punished, not all of you.

You were my first born and you are the rightful heir to the family estate but that’s a life you would never see, my brother… your uncle… Nezarian will never stop his conquest to seize the house for himself, I dread to think what will become of the house when he is in power… I know if you had become the lord that our house’s honour would have been restored to its glory… Our bloodline has been tainted by my generation, by my actions, by Nezarian’s actions and by your grandfather’s actions… Though it’s not your grandfather who should hold the blame, this war within our family may of started at his command, but I don’t think it was truly his words that brought it into existence.

You possessed traits our family hasn’t seen in generations, you had my strength and wits, your mothers charm and heart, each child born into our family has had a dark side somewhere within them, it is no doubt in you as well but the light within you upholds the balance. Do not pity me son and do not give up faith, I should of brought you to this land… Times are dark as they always are, but there is something about this province, the people of this land are good people, even after all I’ve done, some accept me even though I do not deserve it… It’s too late to change my ways but there is one thing that will not change… My love for my son… The son that I failed… The son that I lost.

Xarion Black

Ramsay could hardly believe his eyes, he slumped down in the chair by the desk and covered his face with his hands and sat in silence, he wanted to cry but he physically couldn’t muster the tears to do so… It was clear to him now, his father was dead and any hope of no longer being alone in the world was gone, but he had the letter… Never had his father said he loved him before and that broke him to read it.

[DM Odin]

((Excellent introduction of your new character! This will be interesting to follow.
Oh, and welcome back

[Outbreak1992]

Chapter Four – Xarion/Nezarian Black

True to his word Xarion returned to Arthur’s hovel a week later, this time he didn’t kick any doors down, instead he let himself in and made himself at home, sitting down at a table and throwing his feet up. Arthur wasn’t home at the moment so in the meantime Xarion went through his belongings, looking at various documents around the house, then he heard the door open, he was back. Arthur looks at Xarion then his door and frowns “Well at least my door is still attached to the door frame.” Turning around to face him Xarion drank from his flask and stared at him “Well?” he snapped, Arthur’s respond was just a sign “I’ve heard nothing regarding a Ramsay Black, I would probably have easier time if he told me who is, I assume he’s related to you then Constable?” he asks inquisitively, Xarion does not respond but his expression says it all, clearly not a question that should have been asked, as he starts to approach Arthur “Forget I asked! I’ve not come back entirely empty handed… There is somebody who might know more about this Ramsay, but he won’t speak with me… Just you.” He blurts out before Xarion hits him “Who might that be?” he retorts “I haven’t got a name, but he said he will find you… He said he will come to you in your quarters at the guardhouse in two moons time.” He answers quickly, Xarion ponders on the thought for a moment but nods “Very well… Maybe you’re not so useless Arthur.” He says as he throws a bag of crowns at him. Arthur just looks down at the crowns then back up, surprised by this act he said nothing as Xarion left.

Once Xarion had left Arthur stared at the crowns for a moment before placing them onto the table and getting himself a drink “I don’t know if I should be doing this… There will be consequences for his death.” He uttered as two men emerged from the shadows, their figures fading into sight as an invisibility spell wore off. The tall brutish man remained quiet and just pushed by Arthur to the alcohol, whilst the other man approached Arthur “You’ve done good Arthur, Constable Black will die and you shall be rewarded… Besides Constable Black shouldn’t be any concern to you, I’m sure you wouldn’t want Gardock here, making frequent visits should you fail me.” Arthur looked at Gardock then back at the man “Of course not Nezarian… I just want my crowns and to get the hell out of here.” He said nervously “I’m a man of my word Arthur, take your crowns… Leave Cear… You’ve done your part now and unless you want to be enlisted into my service as a corpse, you’ll get going now.” He said, handing a bag of crowns to Arthur “Well I need to time to prepare.” Pleaded Arthur but was quickly interrupted “Take your gold and go Arthur, before Gardock breaks you in two… I will not repeat myself again.” Ordered Nezarian. Taking the hint Arthur quickly fled out of his home, leaving the pair inside, Gardock laughed as he helped himself to the booze “Don’t drink too much Gardock, we’ve got to prepare ourselves, we shall use this place as our temporary base of operations until the job is done, then we return to Varana and claim my prize… Go assemble the men, Xarion Black dies tonight.” He declared, his chaotic laughter echoing throughout as the hovel as he begins preparations of his own.

[Outbreak1992]

Chapter Five – Ramsay Black

Back in the comfort of his tavern room Ramsay looks over his father’s journal and case files, starting with the folder he looks over the cases Xarion was pursue before his untimely demise. The candle flicked away as he turned the various pages reading reports on a certain case regarding werewolves and an underground arena “Weslea and Leana… Great more names to track down.” He grumbled as he took a drink of his whiskey “I wonder why these cases weren’t submitted to the fleet… Then again Father was always one to do things off his own back.” He stated to himself, answering his own question. He picks up a different piece of parchment, this one is his own and writes their names down then continues reading through the file, he stumbles across another name but this one has nothing positive to say about him “Gardock? Why does that sound familiar?” he asks himself as he jots that one down on the parchment. After he is finished with the first case file he moved onto the next entitled Pyka and reads over that, the reports state that this case had been reported to the fleet but for some reason Xarion still had some documentation on the case, but not much and what was there was vague. Reading through the case files he comes across yet more names “Quinn, Ardarion, Sigrid and Celestia… How the hells am I going to track these people down.” He asks himself and picks up one of the journals flicking through those pages against the case files “Seems he mentioned them in here also, perhaps they were friends of his…” he chuckles lightly to himself “Yeah I can really see that being true.” He retorts as he continues reading. Scribbling the names down on the parchment he quickly reviews them “I don’t know who any of you are… But I’ll find you, one of you must know something about his death surely.” He murmurs.

The hours went by and the whiskey bottles mounted up as he read his way through all the documents and journals, he felt a sense of duty so to speak, these cases didn’t state they were closed, so he assumed they were still open, to the criminals involved it was closed with his death, so he felt like it was his duty to close them. He certainly wasn’t going to filling his father shoes by joining the fleet, but he would bring him justice in his own murder and the cases he had dedicated his time too, he owed him that at least.

To be continued in House Black - House at War