The rays of sun shone through the windows of the small village house as he awoke to a quiet and peaceful morning. Sliding off the sheets, he brought his hands to his eyes and rubbed at his features, giving off a yawn. First he stretched his arms into the air, and then pushed his legs out as far as he could. That was just about what he could manage in terms of morning relaxing, with how much his wounds disabled him. He had some difficulty sitting up, sharp pains striking his chest as he leaned forth, but nonetheless he managed. Having holes in his chest made him feel the pain he first felt whenever he bent his spine, but he was going to have to adjust. Although time would heal his wounds, it was certain that no one could escape permanent damage with how brutally he had been struck, and many scars would remain to remind him of the day. He slid his feet off the bed and stood up, walking on his tip toes so that his companion would not wake up. He found himself infront of a mirror, staring at his reflection. The fine nobleman was gone, having left his place for what was now standing before him, someone he could barely identify. Indeed, the attack had damaged his memory in such ways that he was not even sure of his own name at his moment of awakening, but by now, he was starting to remember pieces and bits. He inspected himself on the mirror. His beard had grown out, and his long curls were now way beyond his shoulders, resting against his backbone. He had lost track of time, but it surely had been some while since his impaled body was dragged away from the scene of almost-murder. He did not bother shortening his hair or shaving his face. It served him better anyhow; he would barely be recognizable by anyone who could potentially come back to finish the job.
Rodrigo picked up a loose shirt and threw it on, buckling his trousers. He made his way down the staircase and then opened the creaking of the door to the village. He was somewhere on the outskirts of Essalonia; that much he knew. He was also aware that this village was mostly out of populace, everyone had deserted the area in fear of war and massacre. The man was blissfully unaware that it was his previous campaigns they were afraid of. Unaware that it was him who scared all the families away in fear of their lives; and the lives of their children. But soon, the memories would certainly return, and it was certainly not going to be pleasant. Although he was a nobleman, it felt much like the commoners life to reside here. He was not going to complain; after all, there was far less stress, little to no shade, and practically, no politics. A far more comfortable life, he thought to himself. He wondered why anyone would ever desire to be rich and powerful with all the consequences they brought. But then again, he remembered how greed functions, the man who wants everything risks losing everything, but of course, the man who expects little may not get anything at all.
He wandered down town, moving down the beaten pathroads and looking about the daily ongoings of his fellow villagers. Children pulling water from the wells, shopkeepers setting up their stands, old women and men conversing by the trees, young ones wandering about chuckling to theirselves. Some of them would greet Rodrigo, smiles on their faces. Couples of kids shared with him a piece of toasted bread. These kids were not your usual innocent souls, they were Northerners who suffered terribly from the ongoing wars in the Colonies. It was more than likely that their fathers never returned home when faced against the common threat of Rodrigo Peirgarten. The children had no idea they were likely greeting the murderer of their fathers, mothers, friends. And just the same, Rodrigo Peirgarten had no idea he was smiling to the faces of children whose lives he ruined, whose families he murdered. If he had his memories, he would certainly feel hatred in the presence of these villagers, but now, remembering nothing of his previous endeavors, Rodrigo felt almost at home amongst these Northerners; he pitied their lives and wanted to help them, wanted to avenge their losses. One would definitely wonder how things would have gone if Rodrigo had any clue of the irony that was going on here.
For now, he was stuck. Rodrigo could not return to Regalia even if he wanted to; he simply possessed no such means. Not only that, but he had lost a large portion of his memory, and although it was starting to return to him in fragments, not even he could tell for sure how much he would remember, and how soon. He was unaware where his family was or who they even were. He knew little of his past, and therefore had little means of finding out more. People in Regalia and the nobles of the peerage had thought him dead long since. But somewhere in his heart, he knew that soon the pieces of the puzzle would be put together, one way or the other. After all, if one survives such a horrendous ambush, it must mean something. Almost like a divine message. Maybe his work in the world was not over. His story was certainly not concluded. He had things to accomplish, or maybe, he had things to change around. Maybe this was his repent, his punishment. Or maybe it was another chance at life. A chance to right his wrongs. He did not know, he simply could not tell. But he believed with all his heart that his survival was not a mere case of miracle. Something was to be done with his life. There was a path he had to take, but the path was not yet revealed. These questions would all be answered in time, he hoped. For now, he was going to enjoy the peace he had finally grasped after years, and allow everything to go at their own pace.
A young Northern girl tugged at Rodrigo's trousers. Rodrigo turned, looking down to the little child. Even though shyly, the girl offered Rodrigo a small basket of home-baked cookies. A warm smile erupted in Rodrigo's features; the man dropped to a single knee and picked out a cookie, taking a bite from it. The Northern girl did just the same. They sat down on the grassy green and feasted on the basket of cookies for what would likely be hours.
OOC: For what Regalia knows, Rodrigo Peirgarten is dead, but it is likely public knowledge that there is no corpse laying around. Therefore please respect the narrative being created here. I do not intend on returning to playing Rodrigo anytime soon, but tidbits of Rodrigo's experiences will be recorded in Lore Stories every now and then, both for me to flesh out the character's story, and for people to enjoy reading them.
Rodrigo picked up a loose shirt and threw it on, buckling his trousers. He made his way down the staircase and then opened the creaking of the door to the village. He was somewhere on the outskirts of Essalonia; that much he knew. He was also aware that this village was mostly out of populace, everyone had deserted the area in fear of war and massacre. The man was blissfully unaware that it was his previous campaigns they were afraid of. Unaware that it was him who scared all the families away in fear of their lives; and the lives of their children. But soon, the memories would certainly return, and it was certainly not going to be pleasant. Although he was a nobleman, it felt much like the commoners life to reside here. He was not going to complain; after all, there was far less stress, little to no shade, and practically, no politics. A far more comfortable life, he thought to himself. He wondered why anyone would ever desire to be rich and powerful with all the consequences they brought. But then again, he remembered how greed functions, the man who wants everything risks losing everything, but of course, the man who expects little may not get anything at all.
He wandered down town, moving down the beaten pathroads and looking about the daily ongoings of his fellow villagers. Children pulling water from the wells, shopkeepers setting up their stands, old women and men conversing by the trees, young ones wandering about chuckling to theirselves. Some of them would greet Rodrigo, smiles on their faces. Couples of kids shared with him a piece of toasted bread. These kids were not your usual innocent souls, they were Northerners who suffered terribly from the ongoing wars in the Colonies. It was more than likely that their fathers never returned home when faced against the common threat of Rodrigo Peirgarten. The children had no idea they were likely greeting the murderer of their fathers, mothers, friends. And just the same, Rodrigo Peirgarten had no idea he was smiling to the faces of children whose lives he ruined, whose families he murdered. If he had his memories, he would certainly feel hatred in the presence of these villagers, but now, remembering nothing of his previous endeavors, Rodrigo felt almost at home amongst these Northerners; he pitied their lives and wanted to help them, wanted to avenge their losses. One would definitely wonder how things would have gone if Rodrigo had any clue of the irony that was going on here.
For now, he was stuck. Rodrigo could not return to Regalia even if he wanted to; he simply possessed no such means. Not only that, but he had lost a large portion of his memory, and although it was starting to return to him in fragments, not even he could tell for sure how much he would remember, and how soon. He was unaware where his family was or who they even were. He knew little of his past, and therefore had little means of finding out more. People in Regalia and the nobles of the peerage had thought him dead long since. But somewhere in his heart, he knew that soon the pieces of the puzzle would be put together, one way or the other. After all, if one survives such a horrendous ambush, it must mean something. Almost like a divine message. Maybe his work in the world was not over. His story was certainly not concluded. He had things to accomplish, or maybe, he had things to change around. Maybe this was his repent, his punishment. Or maybe it was another chance at life. A chance to right his wrongs. He did not know, he simply could not tell. But he believed with all his heart that his survival was not a mere case of miracle. Something was to be done with his life. There was a path he had to take, but the path was not yet revealed. These questions would all be answered in time, he hoped. For now, he was going to enjoy the peace he had finally grasped after years, and allow everything to go at their own pace.
A young Northern girl tugged at Rodrigo's trousers. Rodrigo turned, looking down to the little child. Even though shyly, the girl offered Rodrigo a small basket of home-baked cookies. A warm smile erupted in Rodrigo's features; the man dropped to a single knee and picked out a cookie, taking a bite from it. The Northern girl did just the same. They sat down on the grassy green and feasted on the basket of cookies for what would likely be hours.
OOC: For what Regalia knows, Rodrigo Peirgarten is dead, but it is likely public knowledge that there is no corpse laying around. Therefore please respect the narrative being created here. I do not intend on returning to playing Rodrigo anytime soon, but tidbits of Rodrigo's experiences will be recorded in Lore Stories every now and then, both for me to flesh out the character's story, and for people to enjoy reading them.
