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He didn't feel very different.
Maybe the ghost of the soldier had been mistaken.
Maybe the sun scorch pattern on Verick was no more a symbol of the god Helos than it was a tattoo he had got the night before.
Maybe the green bauble of a gem embedded in the center of that black sun burst mark was just in his mind.
Maybe Orias wasn't trying to dig it out with his dagger and cursing Verick for being a stupid boy who could bugger up something even as simple as stealing one gem.
Maybe... but that wasn't the case. They were back at the inn, Orias setting to the task of either digging out the gem, or in the next five minutes amputating the hand that held his spoils. Verick hadn't said a word since he stepped out of the iron portcullus looking haggard and out of breath.
The dagger slipped and dug into Verick's flesh. He didn't seem to notice the bleeding gash on his hand, he just continued to stare, fixed on the evil little gnome that he was the property of.
What was the penalty for killing your master again? His left hand involuntarilly twitched at the thought, his sword was only inches away. It would all be so easy.
But then what?
"BUGGER IT!" Orias spat on the ground and finally sheathed his dagger. "Sort out that hand boy, I'm going to bed." Orias tossed him some gauze they kept near the snake oil. The gauze bounced lamely off the still dumb struck boy. The bleeding had already stopped. There wasn't even evidence of the flesh even being split.
"When did that happen?"
Orias was already snoring.
And there was Verick's sword again.
Just waiting to take a dive in some gnome brains.
Just strike him down in his sleep, like in the vision.
Only this time it was the right hand that twitched. More than twitched, it wrapped eagerly around the black leather grip and brought the sword high over Verick's head.
But then what?
...
"He's a criminal."
"So am I."
"Only because he made you this way."
That fact didn't make the blade come down any easier.
But it didn't stop Verick either.
Verick stumbled through dark streets. It was still raining and dawn was nowhere in sight. Verick's sword was still drawn, washed clean by the wrathful torrent falling from the sky. Unfortunately it was doing very little for Verick's senses. He should have picked a better night, a better town to slay his master and go blindly into the night. Where would he go now? How would he make a living? Farming? Mercing? Thieving?
At that thought a searing pain shot through Verick's right arm. He had heard of curse marks and anti thieving cantrips with similar effects. Hell, Orias had him open a chest he knew was rigged with a three day hiccup spell once becuase they couldn't disable the blasted thing, but a thought activated protection spell? Verick supposed that there were stranger things in this world. But none of that got him fed and safe any sooner. Who would be damn fool enough to take in a destitute and armed youth in the middle of the night?
Of course!
The clergy.
Maybe the ghost of the soldier had been mistaken.
Maybe the sun scorch pattern on Verick was no more a symbol of the god Helos than it was a tattoo he had got the night before.
Maybe the green bauble of a gem embedded in the center of that black sun burst mark was just in his mind.
Maybe Orias wasn't trying to dig it out with his dagger and cursing Verick for being a stupid boy who could bugger up something even as simple as stealing one gem.
Maybe... but that wasn't the case. They were back at the inn, Orias setting to the task of either digging out the gem, or in the next five minutes amputating the hand that held his spoils. Verick hadn't said a word since he stepped out of the iron portcullus looking haggard and out of breath.
The dagger slipped and dug into Verick's flesh. He didn't seem to notice the bleeding gash on his hand, he just continued to stare, fixed on the evil little gnome that he was the property of.
What was the penalty for killing your master again? His left hand involuntarilly twitched at the thought, his sword was only inches away. It would all be so easy.
But then what?
"BUGGER IT!" Orias spat on the ground and finally sheathed his dagger. "Sort out that hand boy, I'm going to bed." Orias tossed him some gauze they kept near the snake oil. The gauze bounced lamely off the still dumb struck boy. The bleeding had already stopped. There wasn't even evidence of the flesh even being split.
"When did that happen?"
Orias was already snoring.
And there was Verick's sword again.
Just waiting to take a dive in some gnome brains.
Just strike him down in his sleep, like in the vision.
Only this time it was the right hand that twitched. More than twitched, it wrapped eagerly around the black leather grip and brought the sword high over Verick's head.
But then what?
...
"He's a criminal."
"So am I."
"Only because he made you this way."
That fact didn't make the blade come down any easier.
But it didn't stop Verick either.
Verick stumbled through dark streets. It was still raining and dawn was nowhere in sight. Verick's sword was still drawn, washed clean by the wrathful torrent falling from the sky. Unfortunately it was doing very little for Verick's senses. He should have picked a better night, a better town to slay his master and go blindly into the night. Where would he go now? How would he make a living? Farming? Mercing? Thieving?
At that thought a searing pain shot through Verick's right arm. He had heard of curse marks and anti thieving cantrips with similar effects. Hell, Orias had him open a chest he knew was rigged with a three day hiccup spell once becuase they couldn't disable the blasted thing, but a thought activated protection spell? Verick supposed that there were stranger things in this world. But none of that got him fed and safe any sooner. Who would be damn fool enough to take in a destitute and armed youth in the middle of the night?
Of course!
The clergy.