Vyn's Backstory

Another old story, this with Vynstaedis (another toon I deleted.)

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“I cannot imagine life without you.” The words were choked, grief-stricken. A limp body was held in his hands, long russet hair spilling onto the blood-stained cheek of the woman he so dearly loved. And that love had been taken, forcibly. Violently. Ripped from his hands. And she had never known. Not until the day she had left. Even then, she was promised to a Rouge. A Rouge.

He placed the body onto the snow before him tenderly, then sat back, fists clenched. This could not be forgiven. Her damned sister, whom she had been looking for, had murdered her in cold blood. But that could wait. For now, something else had to be done.

The sun peeked out over the treetops of Winterspring’s forest, but did little for warmth; Vynstaedis’s breath still frosted in the dawn air. He grimly set to work, stripping the corpse of his beloved until she was in nothing a simple cotton shirt and leather breeches. Vynstaedis laid Jir next to her, gently, being as careful as he had been with Visyna.

Smoothing out her hair, he began to speak fluidly and with little emotion. “Anu belore dela’nah. Anar’alah belore, al diel ronae. Diel shala’thas, sin’dore.” He repeated these words over and over again, running his hands along her body as he did so. Sweat formed upon his brow as he concentrated. The sun’s light shone brighter as a lone raven crowed in the distance.

Vynstaedis staggered back, collapsing against a tree and gulping air as the body of Visyna Sub’Rosa burned alongside that of her cat. He took a small mana biscuit out of the leather pouch that hung from his belt, wolfing it down. He licked the last crumbs, sorry that there wasn’t more. Using arcane energy was tiring, to say the least.

And then, he let it all go. He slammed his fist into a tree, sobbing. She didn’t deserve to die. Not like this. And all for what? A walking corpse, devoid of emotion? The corpse that had slain her, nonetheless? HE screamed with fury, the tree he had struck erupting in a ball of flame. Doubling up, he sobbed like a child, tears streaking down face. He let the tears fall for love, love that was lost; for a Hunter, a Hunter that was forever gone; for a pain, a hole of agony dug deep into his chest; for a heart that was a black as night.

When it was over, he relaxed, becoming limp as he stared at the cloudless sky. It wasn’t fair. Life could not be so beautiful on a day such as this. “I’ll be damned if I let that bitch get away with this.” The words fell out of his mouth, empty as his heart.

And so it began. Searching, exploring, digging for information. And when he found it… the only emotion he showed was surprise. “The Kingdom of the Sun, eh?” Vynstaedis commented, looking at the parchment in his hand. And so it began.


((Okay, backstory for Vyn. My poor wittle Mage.

Ah, I take such delight in tormenting my toons. <3

But enough of that. The language he spoke was Thalassian, and here is a rough translation. And I’m not sure if I got the grammar entirely correct, either. But oh, well.

“The sun guides us. By the light of the sun, peaceful travels. Travel to the Safe Home, Blood Child.”))