2Austin Kithara was born relatively normal. He was raised by his mother, Eileen, after a one-month relationship with his father, who disappeared before he was born. Eileen had never said anything about him, so as Austin later grew, the only thing he knew about his father was that he had to be of some sort of elvish race. Austin was a half-breed. Eileen was about as human as you could get, but his ears were just slightly pointed, which he hadn't gotten from her. That was about all he inherited from his father. His blonde, unruly hair was gotten from his mother, he was average intellect, aged like any other mortal, wasn't significant in any way. Except for his light blue eyes. They were like the color of ice, and when he angry, they were like ice. Cold, hard, and clear.
Nine months after he was born, he was presented with his half-sister, named Erin. As they grew up, she was everything he wasn't. She was smart, well-liked, popular, magical. Her father, who mysteriously died after she was born, had been a shape-shifter, and while she didn't have that much power, she could change her appearance to whatever she wanted. Which included Austin. She thought it was fun to pose as him and do naughty things, getting him in trouble. Everyone soon learned, though, that she had a crescent moon shaped scar on her right palm. The trick was to catch her long enough to get her to show it.
Eileen was stuck as a single mother with two infants, with no help from a father. She stopped wandering around and settled in a small town where she could raise her two children, struggling as a baker to earn money. She was illiterate, and found it a disadvantage, so she paid people to educate her children.
Of course, Erin excelled in it.
Of course, something Austin couldn't help got in his way. In this case, he was left-handed, so was always smearing ink across his parchment.
They still grew, and Austin started getting envious of Eileen's obvious preference to her perfect child, Erin.
"Oh, Erin!" she would coo when they came back to the bakery to help. "How are you doing with your magics master? I almost didn't recognize you because of your hair! Here I was expecting a blonde, and you come home a brunette? OH!" She'd squeal when Erin changed it back, clapping. "Bravo! I hope everything went well with everything else? One of my regulars said that she saw your writing and thought it was spectacular. That's the fifth time this week! Your handwriting is simply beautiful. Did you say you wanted to try…what was it? Flute? I found someone to teach you! Oh, Austin, there's some dough in the back room, could you cut it for me? That's a good boy," she'd add absent-mindedly.
Seething, he did as he was told. Every day, it was some task that kept him in the back room, away from the people. One day, when they were about twelve, he'd had enough after Erin sat in their room, attempting to play her flute. Attempting. She sounded horrible. Eileen poked her head in, smiling. "Erin, that sounds wonderful."
Erin beamed and opened her mouth to reply.
"No, it doesn't!" Austin shouted, cutting her off. "She sounds horrible! Stop telling her she's perfect in every single way! I hate you! I hate you, and I hate her! I can never do anything right!" he screamed, shoving past a bewildered Eileen and out the door. He ran away, fueled by his anger at his sister, his mother, his constricting town. The jeers from Erin's friends, people avoiding him for his eyes, his ears, his inability to perform as well as every one else, the talk about him being a bad apple, how it must be because he had no father. But Erin, she was making the best of a bad situation…
He didn't get far before he had to stop, out of breath and aching. A few of the townsmen dragged him back, scolding him for yelling at his mother and making her worry like that. He just let them take him back, determined to keep running some day. Some day soon. He couldn't stand it around there anymore.
For a year and a half, he got up early and ran. Sometimes he ran fast, sometimes he ran for a long time, and soon he found he could race people and win, and out run his friends. He started testing how far he could go. He'd never go very far, but he grew confident that if he wanted to, he could run away.
He was presented with the opportunity soon enough. Austin was being punished, again, for something he didn't do. It was something stupid like knocking over a fruit barrel at the market. He stood in the front room of the bakery, his hands clenched into fists behind his back as the farmer and his mother lectured him. Well, the farmer mostly shouted at him in heavily accented Common. His mother just lectured. Erin was sitting on the stairs, snickering slightly. Austin's frustration grew as every time he tried to get a word in, he was cut off. When the farmer stopped to take a breath, Austin shouted the first thing that came to mind, which happened to be an elvish swear. Everyone stared at him, and he felt his face grow hot with the injustice of it all.
"I've been inside all day! All day! I've been doing things in the back for you, mother." He spat the word like an insult. "And what do I get? I get yelled at? IT WASN'T ME! For the Goddess' sake, it was Erin! She was the one out today!" He took a breath, trying to calm himself, but it wasn't working. "I'm so sick of you all!" He bolted for the door.
And this time, when he ran, he kept going.
He spent the next few months on the lonely country roads, hungry, tired, cold. He hadn't bargained for this when he'd run away. He didn't have anything except for what he was wearing. A loose grey shirt and black breeches. The best thing for trekking on deserted roads. Oh, someone would pass every once in a while, but no one stopped to help him. He lived off of berries and whatever small game he managed to catch. Out of sheer desperation, he snitched a map and a small coin purse off of some passing traveler, finding it suspiciously easy. After studying it—thank the gods for his brief teaching in map reading—he set off for a city on the border of the Elvish lands to start his new life at fourteen. Perhaps someone would be able to help him. After all, there were all sorts of cross-breeds on border towns, right? So logic followed that there would be half-elves on the Elvish/Human border.
He was wrong.
Just for good measure, he kept his ears hidden until he could scope out someone to take pity on him. That thought was wrong on every term. The town was strictly human, and no one seemed to pity him enough to offer him anything. They all hurried around with their heads down, watching the ground intently as they hurried from place to place. What was wrong with these people…?
After a few days, it became evident no one was going to help him. He was lounging in his alley one day, listening to his stomach growl. He concentrated on it. Somehow, the pain of hunger was comforting. In a world so confusing, something hadn't changed—food was a priority. His mother used to notice that he'd do that a lot…not eat just because he didn't mind feeling hungry. He was filled quickly, which meant hunger settled in a few hours later, but he didn't notice most of the time. Thoughts of his mother made homesickness strike him like a lightning bolt. She'd never allow him to get so hungry…'No,' he commanded himself. He wanted this.
However, there was a time when his game of seeing how hungry he could get before he was ready to eat his own foot didn't seem like a good idea. Especially seeing as his feet were dirty and covered in blisters currently. His shoes hadn't been top quality, so they'd sort of fallen apart on his long trek to nowhere. He gloomily stared between the buildings at the main road, watching the middle-class families hurry around. How was he supposed to get money? No one would hire such a dirty, disgusting boy like himself. He needed new clothes, soap so he could wash in the river in the forest on the back border of the town…But to get that he needed money. To get money, he needed a job. Which he couldn't get for his lack of money.
"Such a twisted circle," he muttered darkly. His voice was soft and rough from disuse. He didn't talk unless it was to himself. Twisted…the word brought a thought to his head. Well, to break from a twisted circle, sometimes you had to twist rules, right? After all, the evening market was normally a bit more relaxed than the day, so no one would be watching their purses as well…Surely it wasn't that harmful if he snitched a few coppers from someone to buy himself some camp supplies and food? He didn't like the idea of stealing a silver, but hey, if one happened to be in a purse, perhaps some new clothes were in order…But then he'd get a job when he was clean, and he wouldn't have to bend rules, because he wouldn't be in that twisted money circle.
Yes, that would do.
Later, he hovered casually around an alley by the market. He watched everyone with his calm blue eyes, calculating how hasty they were to get out of there. Was it enough to keep a less watchful eye on a purse of coppers from shopping change? Finally, he saw his target. He mouthed the word 'gixie'. He'd picked up all sorts of slang words in the alleys, and gixie was one of the easier ones to figure out. Girl. Woman. Female. Easy enough.
He nonchalantly stepped into the road, following her at a close distance, but not close enough that she'd be suspicious. After all, he could be just another patron of the market headed in the same direction as her. A small child, another gixie, Austin noted, ran in front of her. 'The gods smile on me!' he thought happily. The woman stumbled, trying to catch herself after she'd thrown herself backwards to keep from stepping on the child. Austin hastily caught her, playing the kind gentleman. He'd even managed to get cleaned up earlier. Now that it was darker, it was hard to see the ice color of his eyes, rather turning them a pleasant grey in the little lighting. He smiled warmly at her. "Watch yerself, ma'am," he said, helping her back to her center of balance with one hand while the other one casually plucked the purse from her belt. He'd adopted a neutral way of speaking—not the formal way he'd been taught, the kind normally reserved for more educated folk, but not the full out slang of the streets. She blushed and fluttered about trying to get all of her purchases in an easier to carry order, thanking him before marching off down the street again.
Austin turned and walked the other direction, opening the purse carefully. He smiled. This was more than he'd hoped for. A silver and five coppers. That would get him much. Perhaps the Goddess herself had granted him luck. Perhaps she wanted him to succeed.
After buying himself a proper tunic as he'd seen some of the other men wear around town and some new breeches and nice boots, he'd still had enough money to buy a cheap knife, flint stones, and a blanket. He camped out in the forest by the river every night, washing his clothes and himself regularly until he'd gotten himself a proper job. And he'd only had to snitch a few more coppers from another unsuspecting gixie. A barman had hired him as just a general helper. He started in the back, helping the cook with food. It didn't pay a lot, but it was enough to make sure he didn't have to play his hunger game for too long and making sure he was clean.
After he'd charmed a man into buying one of the most expensive meals there was, the barman noted his easy nature with other people, and moved him to the front. He took orders, ran food to tables, and occasionally was let take food upstairs to the rooms that people rented out. That was a great honor, because it took some skill to carry everything up the steep stairs, knock, and of course, he still had to be nice to the tenants for a big tip. Life was going good.
But then it took a turn, and it crashed down.
The bar had been slow for a few weeks, which meant he wasn't getting paid. If there was no money coming in, he got none. He'd been forced to go back to watching the streets to steal money. He'd gone after a wealthy looking man, liking the bulge of his coin pocket.
He wasn't betting on the man to have a gods forsaken dog!
Austin had snuck up behind him, casually tried taking the purse, and was dismayed when it was more firmly attached than he'd thought. The man whirled around, then started yelling at his dog to attack. A large black dog Austin hadn't noticed before jumped up, growling and snarling. Terrified, he fled. When he'd tried to go back to the bar, the barman kicked him out, yelling after him, "I don' need no guddamn thieves in my bar!"
To make matters better, the man had been some small lord, but someone with power nonetheless. And guards were looking for the brat who'd tried to lift his money and ruined his evening out.
Packing up his things, Austin hit the road again, growing depressed. He was stuck in his twisted circle of money again. By this time, he was toeing the line at sixteen and a half, and was growing quite handsome. He was lean, but muscular after having to fend for himself. His blonde hair grew out, but still stuck out at odd angles. It had a casual look, but not uncared for. His eyes gained more grey in them, which made it easier for people to make eye contact with him and the not immediately look away. His voice developed to a rich, elegant low tenor, but not so low it sounded odd for him. He could smile easily and when he did smile to some gixies, they blushed and giggled and fanned themselves, then walked away, whispering and stealing glances backwards at him.
He was on auto pilot when he spotted someone up ahead on the road, and his eyes instantly wandered to the figure, studying the blob as it grew closer. A sword, unconcealed. Long hair, but a male face. Loose tunic, loose breeches, good traveling shoes and pack. Fair skin, light eyes, pointed ears.
Wait, pointed ears? Austin's mind came back to the world with a whirlwind of thoughts. An elf. Doing what, so far from the border? As far as he knew, most of the elves lived in clans in the forest, doing whatever elves did. None of them ever left. Yet here was one, right in front of him.
Namely, one with a large coin purse hanging off his pack.
At this point, Austin could snatch a purse off of a traveler's bag easily. At first he'd been guilty about it, stealing from others, but then later he convinced himself it was for his own good. After all, if they were foolish enough to wear it so out in the open, then it deserved to be taken!
When they were about to pass each other, Austin "accidentally" bumped the elf. He babbled apologies to the confused looking elf, then seemingly embarrassed, turned around after taking the purse.
At least, that's how it was supposed to go. It seemed like déjà vu, only this time the victim of his crime was savvy to what he was up to. Just as Austin's fingers touched the soft leather bag, the elf whirled around, the flat of his sword on his check. Austin froze.
"What have we here?" the elf drawled, in accented common and slightly stuttering on the words. Obviously not a first language. "A thief?" he continued. "I must admit, this is the first time on such an empty road, with nowhere for someone like you to run." With movements faster than he could trace, Austin somehow ended up on the ground with the elf on top of him, the sword resting on his neck.
"I don't take well to thieves," he continued, lazily drawing the blade lightly over Austin's skin. It stung, and he felt warm liquid pool out of the cut. He instinctively squirmed.
The elf sucked in a breath, and it took him a moment to realize why, then he immediately grew ten times more frightened. His hair had been knocked aside, showing his ears.
"A half breed?" the elf breathed. In those untraceable movements again, he was up off of Austin, and pulled him to his feet. The two studied each other silently.
The elf was, like most of his kind, pale skinned and light haired. He was different, however, in the aspect that his eyebrows weren't so highly arched, and his cheekbones not so high either. He had a predominant jaw line that gave him a firm, ruling look. His eyes were startlingly blue, with flecks of grey. Just as Austin's had been, when he was younger…his mother always said he'd looked more like an elf when he was a child…
The elf was muttering to himself as he released the front of Austin's shirt, then turned to walk away. "I'd get out of thievery, boy. For one so young, it's a crooked path to go down. Especially so close to Elvish lands."
The anger Austin had been feeling at nothing in particular boiled up again. It was the feeling of being told what to do, that had been lurking inside of him since he'd run away.
"And who are you, to tell me what to do?" he demanded, grabbing the elf's pack to make him turn around. "You were born with money, I bet! Have you ever wandered around without money? Hm? Stealing's the only way! I need money to get money, and when I have none, there's no other way to get it! And I can't help that I'm a half breed!" he yelled as an afterthought. "Think you elves are so mighty? Well guess what? My human mother raised me and my sister alone, no thanks to whoever else contributed to my being here!" His chest rose and fell, and he suddenly realized he'd had no idea why he'd said the things he had. Perhaps it was because he was hurt that he hadn't ever known his father. At least with Erin, she knew. He'd died. But his father had run away.
The elf studied him again, silently. He shrugged apathetically. "It is not your fault you are a half breed. I am ashamed of whoever sired you." Austin wasn't sure if this was shaming his father or him. "As for your unemployment predicament…" He looked him up and down briefly. "I am getting old. My pack grows heavy after the endless miles. As an apology to your unfaithful father," he added, in response to Austin's questioning look. "And, since you seemed so eager to take some of the weight off of me, here." Without warning, he threw his pack at Austin's feet. Bewildered, he just picked it up, slinging it onto his back.
He'd never really know why he followed the elf and did as he wanted, nor would he ever find out why the crazy elf had let him come either.
He learned that the elf's name was Tetheneal, but since Austin's slow human tongue couldn't pronounce it the right way, he could call him Neal. Or better yet, sir, as was respectful for someone so young to be calling his senior.
Austin stuck with Neal.
All in all, neither of them asked about what had happened before that bizarre meeting. They just stuck with whatever they did.
Eventually, after Neal got into a fight with some drunk humans, the elf decided that Austin needed to learn some sort of self defense, seeing as "it will do no good standing there staring next time."
"I already know how to fight," he said defensively. "I've got hands, I've got feet."
Neal laughed bitterly. "Stupid boy." He said this often. "What are you supposed to do with attacked with blades, hm? How will your hands and feet save you then? What if someone does this?" Neal spun around and drew two daggers from what appeared as nowhere, attacking Austin. It all happened too fast for him. Neal rested one dagger by his neck, and another on his stomach.
"You would most definitely lose," Neal said bluntly.
"Well I don't plan on flaunting the fact I'm an elf!" Austin bristled.
"You don't have to, half breed." He sheathed his blades and turned to walk down the road again. Austin followed sulkily, angry. That was the first time Neal had referred to him as "half breed", besides the first time they'd met. He wasn't sure what that meant.
A few days later, Neal returned to their camp set some distance away from a town, throwing some leather pads at Austin across the fire that had been made.
"For your arms," he explained, but that didn't help Austin much.
He did, however, learn the next day what he meant. Neal had randomly turned around and attacked him, moving slow enough to give Austin the chance to throw his arms up in front of his face to keep from getting hurt. However, the blades bit into his arms, making them bleed. While Austin jumped about, howling in pain, Neal just watched dispassionately.
"I said they were for your arms."
Austin made sure he wore those leather pads on his arms all the time from then on, because Neal attacked him whenever he felt like it. He learned the signs of when the crazy old elf would turn and attack, and even where he would strike. Once Neal deemed him "sufficient enough not to get killed", he fitted him with a sword, and they started sword work. Austin grew to like it, and found himself rising when the sun did to run through drills. He was happy again. He didn't have to pay for anything, and it was an easy enough job. Carry around the elf's pack, and give him some company. He learned so much with him, it was amazing.
But nothing can last forever.
Austin had set up camp, and was poking the fire to keep it going. He glanced up at the sky, frowning at the position of the moon. It was getting late. Neal was normally back by now, with ale, to drink before they went to bed.
He didn't dare go to sleep, for fear that Neal would be waiting in the morning with some complaint that it was a test, and he'd failed it. He made sure that the fire was contained well enough, then set off for the town.
It was dark, and most of the buildings had their lights out for the night, but there was always the tavern with lights blazing. Austin figured that would be as good as any place to try. As he got nearer, he frowned at how quiet it was. The drunken song were easy to hear most of the time. The door was open slightly, spilling inviting light out into the street.
When he stepped in, he was horrified with what he saw. Tables had been overturned, broken glass was scattered everywhere, and there was blood. Lots of it. He reeled back from the sight of it. He didn't like it. Not at all. It was deserted. Where was the bartend? The drunks, the doxies that allowed drunks to have some fun with a gixie? Everything was covered in blood…He started backing out, when something that glittered caught the corner of his eye. He glanced over at it, and saw it was coming through a door. All instincts screamed at him to turn and run, and he even started to. He wanted to find Neal, get back to camp, and keep walking. He'd carry the stupid elf if he needed to, just to get away from this random, scary violence…
But something else told him to stop being such a pansy and go see what it was. Maybe someone needed help. He picked his way over everything, over to the half-closed door. He reached out a shaking hand to open it wider…
And nearly screamed when it banged open. Austin jumped back, drawing his sword out of habit with shaking hands. Neal was standing there, his clothes bloodied, his naked sword out with the crimson liquid on it. It was even in his hair, staining it into a horrible color.
"Austin," he said shakily, almost with relief. "We're leaving. Let's go." He brushed past him, hurrying out. Austin didn't need any other pleas to leave. He turned to face the door, and nearly got sick. Written in blood on the wall, said "Death to the half breeds." He sprinted out after Neal, catching up easily. They walked fast, then it turned into a jog, then a run, then a full out sprint back to camp. They didn't stop to catch their breath when they got back. The just packed everything and headed out, putting miles between the bloody bar and themselves before the sun even rose.
They'd walked in silence, neither of them wanting to talk. Finally, Neal broke the silence.
"See, when I told you you'd never make it?" he asked softly. Austin just nodded stiffly, pushing the awful sights back.
"Why? Everyone hates half breeds. Why bother?" he asked finally.
Neal did something he had never done before. He stopped, and faced Austin. They were nearly eye to eye, both at 6'.
"I ran."
"What?"
"You never wondered what an elf was doing so far from home?"
"I never bothered to ask."
"I was kicked out."
"Why?"
"I screwed around with a human lady."
Austin paused to absorb that. "What…?"
He sighed, scuffing the ground nervously. Neal was never nervous unless there was a really good reason.
"Blue eyes like yours and mine aren't common for elves, Austin," he said finally. And he didn't have to say any more. It just clicked.
"This entire time you didn't say anything?" he asked. He was surprised with how flat his voice sounded.
"I thought you'd run."
"You were right."
"Will you run now?"
"No."
"Why not?"
Austin shrugged. "Somehow, being a known half breed wandering around alone doesn't seem like a good idea." He faced forwards and started walking. Neal fell into step beside him, and they walked as if nothing had changed. Things had changed, though. Austin thought that if he ever found his father, he'd hate him for leaving his mother, and leaving him alone. But…he wasn't really. With what he'd learned from Neal the past…Goddess, had it been a year already? He could understand why he'd run from it all. And at least he had the courage to do something when he'd found him again.
Months later, after they'd both put the bloody bar behind them, they were staying at an inn as a celebration of Austin's 18th birthday. It was nice to sleep in a bed after so long on the ground.
They were sitting in their room, Neal reading, and Austin slowly and carefully going through hand-to-hand combat drills. Neal suddenly slammed his book shut, and got up.
"I'm getting some water," he announced, then walked out and downstairs. Austin just shrugged, going back to his drills. He listened as Neal went down the stairs, then a few minutes started coming back up. He only got about half way before he cried out. The sound made Austin's blood run cold. He swore and threw the door open, dashing down the hall to the stairs. He flung himself down them, and fell at the end. How ungraceful. He expected Neal to be next to the stair, roaring with laughter. But he wasn't. When he looked over at what tripped him, he promptly looked away, tears pricking at his eyes. He hadn't cried in years. He wasn't going to start now.
But Neal was dead. Broke his neck, falling down the stairs, most likely, due to the spilled water all over. He gathered himself, then forced himself to look back at him. His stomach dropped out. There was a note taped to one of the steps. NO HALF BREEDS it read.
It was Austin's fault. Without even meaning to, he'd killed his friend, master, friend, father, whatever Neal actually was.
Neal hadn't fallen.
He was pushed.
The knowledge filled him with a fury he didn't know was possible. He stood up, his cold eyes scanning the room. He didn't have to wait long for a big man, probably drunk, to step up to him, smirking.
"Li'e tha', half bree'?" the drunk asked him, smiling stupidly. Everyone else in the bar burst into laughter. Cold realization that they'd been set up hit him, and he smiled coldly at the man in front of him. He picked up Neal's sword, then slashed through the drunk, who fell to the floor staring at him stupidly.
"Like that?" Austin asked coldly, a smile curling the corners of his lips as well.
The men all stared at him for a few moments, then they all roared in anger, jumping up to attack. He thought about it for a split second. There was nothing up in the room of value. It was all kept in their pockets. So he grabbed Neal's body, smashed through a window, and ran out into the night before anyone could do anything about it.
Austin buried Neal by an oak, which was both of their favorite tree. He sat staring at the mound of recently upturned dirt, then let the tears come. He wasn't ashamed of crying. He knew it was his only way to let go and live his life.
Austin went to the capital city, where they'd been headed anyway. Really, it had been because there was nothing else to do, and it was a far enough city that it would take them a while to get to. He got there in record time, and found himself, ironically, again without money. He went back to stealing. He became known in the huge, sprawling city's under world as the best thief, and he became basically the thief king. One of his friends came to him, with an offer to kill a rival of his, for a handsome reward. Austin couldn't refuse it. Not when guards all around knew his face. He'd have to move soon.
So he killed the man, collected his reward, and moved on.
All hell broke loose from then on.
Uhm. Hi...I figured I'd give fictionpress another chance...So this is one of my roleplay character's history. He's sort of my favorite, and I never bothered to really think about what happened before, soo...tah dah.
My muse came back about halfway through writing, if you can tell...
Oh, and he becomes this bad-ass assassin afterwards...
So tell me whatcha think. I PREFER things to fix, but if you wanna gush over how you like it, fine. O.o However, I don't take well to "DDD8 YOU SUCK. YOUR STORY SUCKS. GO DIE."
So if it's that bad, do me a favor and don't comment.
-Kaggr