Blood Money - Linus Lyffre

Linus coughed. If only I could do something about this smoke... And just like that the air around him changed. A gust rushed down the hall and throughout the house. Everywhere the gust passed it pushed the stifling smoke up to the ceiling and out the closest door or window. Well... that was... something. He pondered what he could do for his family as he made his way now calmly out of the house.
 
Soot-blackened, afraid, shivering, Father Wayne stands in the courtyard, clutching his prayer amulet.


"Oh, thank Him! My Lord, 'tis a miracle you live!" He cries, a tear clearing a path down one round and pasty cheek.
 
"Ah, Father Wayne... my thanks. I wonder... could you assist me? If I were to retrieve my family, would you help with their burial rites?"
 
His brow creases.


"Your family, m'lord? I wasn't aware the Lyffres had guests!" Aghast, he plasters his hands to his head. "Please, we must retrieve all the dead and lay them to rest. Pray, what is your name, m'lord?"
 
Well... at least he's on task... "Ah... yes, forgive me... I forget my place... you would not have known of me... I was a..." he tried to offer a knowing glance to the priest then, "...cousin, of sorts to the Lyffres... though mine was an ignoble birth..." he cast his eyes downward and did his best to look ashamed in hopes the father would not follow up with more questions, "My name is Lucas Lyre. ... I think... I shall return to the house now and bring whomever I can find out..." Linus... ...Lucas turned to go.
 
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It takes over an hour to find all the bodies. Some are burned almost beyond recognition. Those who died beside you less so. Too recognizable, even. Father, seeming so small. Mother's staring eyes, wild and blind. And... No. You can't look for too long.


Father Wayne has cleaned up a little when you get back, and with him are a gravedigger and a farmhand.
 
"This is the last of them, father," Linus Lucas said a bit tremulous still. What would mother say at a time like this? What would be the right way to go about this? Burying the whole family... not something his life had prepared him for.
 
He nods.


"The Lord is merciful, Lucas. They are with Him, now." He says, in an effort at comfort. Is mother with Degra Veen or Litrys now?


Perhaps you'll come to find out.


It takes the rest of the day to bury them. To his credit, Wayne doesn't leave until it is done and the last rites are spoken. The farmhand leaves partway through.


The gravedigger says nothing, but at one point he hands you a shovel.


"You are welcome to stay with me, until you find your feet, young Lucas." Father Wayne offers, when it is done. He walks to the gates, leaving you a moment to say goodbye.
 
"Father... mother..." Linus felt a chill inside, "Li--Lise... brothers..." Saying his sister's name, he fought back a sob, restraining it to a few tears, "I won't rest until you... we all are avenged." He knelt by Lise's headstone and wept for a time, all the while being reminded of his loss... the life he had known, his family, his name and in that other sense of "loss", his failure... reminded by the dull humming in his chest.


Sometime later, he stood, stirred by a chill on his skin, and turned to go. He could stay with the Father for the night, perhaps two, but he would need to move sooner rather than later. He would need to follow Berwick. He would need a sword.
 
The priest remains largely silent. Perhaps he doesn't know what to say - perhaps he knows there is nothing to say.


His house is modest, save for a few valuable candlesticks and a diminuitive rosewood reliquary. He offers you a tiny room with hastily made bed; a far cry from where you once slept. A short while later, Wayne knocks at the door.


"Master Lucas? Can you stomach a meal?"
 
Lucas opens door, "Yes... thank you, Father..." What will eating be like now... what will everything be like now... Lucas touched his chest where his heart had been to feel the dull consistent thrum.
 
You can feel the difference. No alchemist, you don't know by what means the food in your belly was ever made to sustain you, but now you have a distinct tearing sensation as if something within you destroys the simple meal of salt pork, eggs, and soda bread.


"Do you know what you will do now, ser?" Asks the good father, face creased with sympathy more than age.
 
"I do not know, father... but I think I should seek a city for employ as I have little family apart from the Lyffres..."
 
He nods, thoughtful.


"The Holy City is only a few leagues East," he offers, hopeful.
 
Taking another bite and chewing, Lucas nods sullenly. "Then I suppose I should set out for the Holy City in the morning..."
 
The priest seems relieved and delighted.


"I'll prepare you some food for the road, and what money I can spare. There's good, honest work for a pious man."


And he does. A night of dreamless sleep later, and he's seeing you off on the road with a spoken blessing and a pack of food. Even a cloth map of the kingdom - perhaps a few years out of date.
 
Lucas walked away down the road from the priest's house as if he were heading toward the Holy City. Once he was sure he was out of site of the old man's home, he stopped. Remembering smoke-clearing gusts in the house, he half effortlessly, half purposefully reaches out for the wind as if in prayer: his only prayer through gritted teeth--"Where are they?"
 
The wind brings you their voices from the West - Illim. A long walk, for most. For you it could be faster...
 
As Lucas darts west to Illim at a sprint, he pushes thoughts of his anger, his failure, and his rage from his mind, leaving only the thought of avenging his family. He does not notice a stormcloud form overhead. As the air passes over him, he vaguely wills it to speed him onward. It does, but not as he initially intends. A heavy wind surges from behind him and rises into the sky. He rises with it. Though the storm cloud from whence the wind came overtook him, Lucas could still see through it: the storm rolled on toward Illim with Lucas within.


As the clouds settled over Illim, it rained and through the shadow of the torrential rain Lucas fell to earth in an empty alley.


Landing, He was caught for a moment in thought. He had meant to be hasty in his arrival but not this hasty. Whatever these new powers were, he did not understand them. For vengeance, he would feel better with a sword by his side. The thought of the last time he'd held a sword... his failure... his family.


He clenched his fists. He felt as though his heart should sink, but this new hum only shifted and thrummed a bit faster...


Drops of rain ceased their descent in a line before one hand. The drops hung in the air. The air coiled around them even as they filled it.


Within a shocked few seconds, Lucas held a blade like glass or ice, in form like a bastard sword--but so much lighter--with a basket-guard of delicate and elaborate workmanship. Absolution, for his past failures.


Holding this sword feels familiar. Powerful. Lucas feels like Linus for the first time since standing from the floor where he was left to die. With a passing thought, the winds of the storm whisper the way to his family's murderers...


OOC
Can I commit ~5 gossamer to this and discuss its implications in Purgatory?
 
You've stopped near a stand of woods, not too far from where you began, but as much as a day's travel covered in a fraction of the time. It occurs to you that you might catch your prey by day's end - they haven't had that much time to run, and can't possibly have reached Illim yet; that's a month's journey, easily.


And now you're armed for the purpose.
 
Lucas walks slowly through the woods letting the breeze guide him. His approach is cautious and as stealthy as he can manage but he was never one for hunting or the bow like some of his brothers had been.
 
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