Shinsou Vaan Osiris
01-02-16, 03:36 PM
((Closed. A direct sequel to The Gnarled Roots of Osiris II: The Council of Five (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?30136-The-Gnarled-Roots-of-Osiris-II-The-Council-of-Five-%28solo%29)))
Stark Residence
Corone's Coast
01:45am
There was nothing more surreal then looking into the eyes of a man coming to terms with the fact that he would never see his family again.
During his chequered past, Shinsou had seen and indeed even instigated an unfathomable amount of similar scenes. He had looked coldly into the desperate eyes of dying men as he ended their lives without a thought. He had listened to the pleading cries of dirty-faced kids and the terrible shrieks of wives and widows as he had razed entire settlements whilst leading the Jal Shey campaign. But, regardless of how gut-wrenching those sights would have been to a better man, Shinsou never felt such woe as Bane Stark did today.
The burly ranger was sitting at the foot of the charred husk of his house on the coast of Corone, his tearstained cheeks glowing in the dying light of a campfire. In his gigantic arms, he cradled all that remained of his life – the charred, flaking corpses of his wife and child, all underneath an otherwise pristine Coronian night sky.
After the Kinshara’s ambush on their party a day ago, Bane had realised that all of his interests in Corone, and not just his men and the Telgradian, would also be a target. Shinsou had left with him immediately, knowing they were already a day behind their aggressors, but they had been too late. Bane Stark had arrived just in time to see the telltale billowing smoke unfurl into the sky above the clearing he called home and was powerless to do anything but watch as his house succumbed to a raging inferno, courtesy of the Kinshara’s shadow hand.
“I’m so sorry.” Shinsou said in a whisper to Bane, who was barely withholding the quiver of his usually strong lips, and barely containing the tears. The Telgradian tried to muster up another sentence, something that would put Bane’s troubled heart at ease, but could see that nothing else would suit the moment and instead remained silent.
Bane’s right hand passed through his unkempt dark hair, a motion he took as his chest inhaled once again roughly, shallowly, as if his throat was made out of sandpaper. He looked as if he were going to roar, to bellow out his rage into the inkwell-like night for all of Althanas to hear, but instead the breath petered out into a whimper. He bit his lip and closed his eyes.
“They’ve taken everything from me. My whole life has become recompense for some imagined slight on the Kinshara, a debt that should never have had to be repaid.”
Shinsou listened while gazing into the pile of broken, charred beams and bricks that once comprised the Stark residence, the bitter smell of burning wood and ash churning horribly with the stench of seared flesh. In the time he had known Bane, the Telgradian had been lead to believe that the former ranger wasn’t a sentimental man. He didn’t cry, and never displayed any other emotions other than determination or anger in his presence. His mind was always on the job at hand. He hadn’t even talked about his family before, not to his men nor to Shinsou. But, now that the Telgradian was afforded a rare look at the world according to Stark, he could see so much more about Bane that he simply couldn’t before.
However, here at this now smouldering memorial where there was once perhaps the laughter of children or the merriment of a family life Shinsou had never glimpsed, there was now only a burning void of agony and death.
“Boy, come here,” Bane asked, laying the charcoal bodies down to rest on the ground beside him. “I have something I must ask of you.”
Shinsou obliged. Flickering embers swooped and danced in the opening of his greatcoat as he walked, Enpera’s sheath swinging in tandem with the flaps. He sat down on a thick tree trunk nearby, the remnants of one of the many great oaks in Bane’s clearing.
“Miranda,” Bane started, stroking his beard and allowing his teary eyes to drift into the warm glow of the fire in front of them. “My wife, she always had a good eye for a man. I believe I got that from her, and when I laid eyes on you, I knew there was something about you that was different. You’ve got power you don’t know how to use. You’ve got a past you don’t know how to get away from. But, you’ve also got will, and grit, and steel about you. Underneath that boy, there’s a man.”
Shinsou felt Bane was starting to chisel down to point of the conversation, but said nothing. His eyes never once left Bane’s broken gaze.
“The thing is, Shinsou, you’ve paid me a lot of money to do a job but I can’t let tonight stand. Miranda and Samila were the only family I had left. My men are gone, and maybe there is glory in their deaths, but not those of my family. If you’ll come with me, Shinsou, I’ll swear a life debt to you. Let’s find these bastards, Shinsou. Let’s find them and kill them all.”
It wasn’t the proposal that struck Shinsou like a hammer, but its futility, the lack of reason. After a few moments of silence, the Telgradian lowered his head.
“No.”
Shinsou waited for a reaction from Bane. He watched as the ranger shot him a glance sideways. He could almost see the magma rising inside the ranger’s burning irises, the lust for revenge taking control of all of the man’s primal urges.
Shinsou, however, had not finished.
“No, I won’t accept your life-debt, but I’ll come with you.”
The Telgradian had originally thought of releasing Bane to do what he had to do. No use staying onboard a sinking ship, especially since Shinsou had his own issues to take care of with the Council of Five undoubtedly hot on his heels. But even his cold heart couldn’t fight off those desperate eyes that looked at him over the campfire, not a hundred yards away from the graves of his murdered family.
When tragedy struck, the boundaries between enmity and friendship tended to be erased, forgotten. Shinsou just couldn’t leave this to fate.
Stark Residence
Corone's Coast
01:45am
There was nothing more surreal then looking into the eyes of a man coming to terms with the fact that he would never see his family again.
During his chequered past, Shinsou had seen and indeed even instigated an unfathomable amount of similar scenes. He had looked coldly into the desperate eyes of dying men as he ended their lives without a thought. He had listened to the pleading cries of dirty-faced kids and the terrible shrieks of wives and widows as he had razed entire settlements whilst leading the Jal Shey campaign. But, regardless of how gut-wrenching those sights would have been to a better man, Shinsou never felt such woe as Bane Stark did today.
The burly ranger was sitting at the foot of the charred husk of his house on the coast of Corone, his tearstained cheeks glowing in the dying light of a campfire. In his gigantic arms, he cradled all that remained of his life – the charred, flaking corpses of his wife and child, all underneath an otherwise pristine Coronian night sky.
After the Kinshara’s ambush on their party a day ago, Bane had realised that all of his interests in Corone, and not just his men and the Telgradian, would also be a target. Shinsou had left with him immediately, knowing they were already a day behind their aggressors, but they had been too late. Bane Stark had arrived just in time to see the telltale billowing smoke unfurl into the sky above the clearing he called home and was powerless to do anything but watch as his house succumbed to a raging inferno, courtesy of the Kinshara’s shadow hand.
“I’m so sorry.” Shinsou said in a whisper to Bane, who was barely withholding the quiver of his usually strong lips, and barely containing the tears. The Telgradian tried to muster up another sentence, something that would put Bane’s troubled heart at ease, but could see that nothing else would suit the moment and instead remained silent.
Bane’s right hand passed through his unkempt dark hair, a motion he took as his chest inhaled once again roughly, shallowly, as if his throat was made out of sandpaper. He looked as if he were going to roar, to bellow out his rage into the inkwell-like night for all of Althanas to hear, but instead the breath petered out into a whimper. He bit his lip and closed his eyes.
“They’ve taken everything from me. My whole life has become recompense for some imagined slight on the Kinshara, a debt that should never have had to be repaid.”
Shinsou listened while gazing into the pile of broken, charred beams and bricks that once comprised the Stark residence, the bitter smell of burning wood and ash churning horribly with the stench of seared flesh. In the time he had known Bane, the Telgradian had been lead to believe that the former ranger wasn’t a sentimental man. He didn’t cry, and never displayed any other emotions other than determination or anger in his presence. His mind was always on the job at hand. He hadn’t even talked about his family before, not to his men nor to Shinsou. But, now that the Telgradian was afforded a rare look at the world according to Stark, he could see so much more about Bane that he simply couldn’t before.
However, here at this now smouldering memorial where there was once perhaps the laughter of children or the merriment of a family life Shinsou had never glimpsed, there was now only a burning void of agony and death.
“Boy, come here,” Bane asked, laying the charcoal bodies down to rest on the ground beside him. “I have something I must ask of you.”
Shinsou obliged. Flickering embers swooped and danced in the opening of his greatcoat as he walked, Enpera’s sheath swinging in tandem with the flaps. He sat down on a thick tree trunk nearby, the remnants of one of the many great oaks in Bane’s clearing.
“Miranda,” Bane started, stroking his beard and allowing his teary eyes to drift into the warm glow of the fire in front of them. “My wife, she always had a good eye for a man. I believe I got that from her, and when I laid eyes on you, I knew there was something about you that was different. You’ve got power you don’t know how to use. You’ve got a past you don’t know how to get away from. But, you’ve also got will, and grit, and steel about you. Underneath that boy, there’s a man.”
Shinsou felt Bane was starting to chisel down to point of the conversation, but said nothing. His eyes never once left Bane’s broken gaze.
“The thing is, Shinsou, you’ve paid me a lot of money to do a job but I can’t let tonight stand. Miranda and Samila were the only family I had left. My men are gone, and maybe there is glory in their deaths, but not those of my family. If you’ll come with me, Shinsou, I’ll swear a life debt to you. Let’s find these bastards, Shinsou. Let’s find them and kill them all.”
It wasn’t the proposal that struck Shinsou like a hammer, but its futility, the lack of reason. After a few moments of silence, the Telgradian lowered his head.
“No.”
Shinsou waited for a reaction from Bane. He watched as the ranger shot him a glance sideways. He could almost see the magma rising inside the ranger’s burning irises, the lust for revenge taking control of all of the man’s primal urges.
Shinsou, however, had not finished.
“No, I won’t accept your life-debt, but I’ll come with you.”
The Telgradian had originally thought of releasing Bane to do what he had to do. No use staying onboard a sinking ship, especially since Shinsou had his own issues to take care of with the Council of Five undoubtedly hot on his heels. But even his cold heart couldn’t fight off those desperate eyes that looked at him over the campfire, not a hundred yards away from the graves of his murdered family.
When tragedy struck, the boundaries between enmity and friendship tended to be erased, forgotten. Shinsou just couldn’t leave this to fate.