Greggan

The storm raged silently above the city engrossed in its celebrations, ignorant to the terror about to befall them. Drunkards and whores fucked in the streets and alleys, those who couldn't afford the silvers for a whore would spend the coppers for more ale singing loudly in the streets. Pickpockets and thieves lines their pockets with stolen treasures, unsuspecting they would never spend their fortunes.

Down a small cobble pathway passed the slums, to a place where the rats wont even make their dens, where the lowest of the lowest made their homes from whatever materials they could. Where the sewage drained down the streets and often into the living quarters, having to raise their beds like bridge above the filth that flowed through. It smelled of the fish heads and shit pots that were often dumped into streets to be washed below.

Even the lowest urchins has places to gather, often where there was cheap drink and cheaper girls to be bought. The Rats den was no different, in the furthest darkest part of the rats den sat a brothel where girls desperate to survive sold their flesh to the men who could pay it. The owner, a callous man, short fat and bald with a thick mustache and a taste for silk and fine wines from the north eastern coastal city of Aerios. The girls were fed and well clothed, and looked as though they were dealt with a gentle hand, part of the allure was how elegant his girl were kept for their geographical location. Master Halidor the great keeper of beauties ; he would boast to the young soldiers and guards who patrolled the area as they entered his establishment. Twenty beautiful young women of various ages, the youngest being sixteen the eldest be thirty-one. There were a few girls in the basement rooms caring for the various bastards that were spawned from the visitors patronage. Newborns and toddlers squalled and giggled as they played from room to room, their mothers either working upstairs or caring for the many children of the whores who were slated to work. The pregnant or girls not yet of age to work stayed in the kitchens or to the basement. The boys were sent to the apprentice makers to go get a trade and become another mans problem, earning their own way with an orphans last name as was the norm of the day unless they possessed magical talent. In that case they were sent to the citadel, boy or girl; A bastards greatest dream is to be born with the touch of the arcane, or the autumn blessing, or the kiss of the elements. Having these traits would garuantee you a chance at a better station in life, becoming a person of great respect and even wealth something the common folk rarely could do since bloodlines and last names mattered to the hierarchy over anything else.

There were five great noble cities all governed by a powerful house, each containing a powerful army loyal to the king. Halidor would frequently send girls to the king for parties or private use, often being sent back a girl with a bastard in her belly. The king produced many with the touch of the arcane, many believed the houses creator was a mage himself producing great heirs that eventually led to the houses rise to power centuries earlier.

Sitting on the floor was a strong little boy, no older than five or six playing on the dirty basement floor alongside other babies born from the whores of the tavern. Black hair, piercing blue eyes and even at this age his strength was far above those other children of his age. He had a kind disposition often protecting the smaller children from the older. He wore a tattered wool shirt and a pair of britches that rose above his ankles as they were becoming too small for him; He held them up with a hemp chord, the seams became frayed and held many patches.

A bright orange alley cat made its way to the house finding itself in the basement with the many children of the brothel, the children were delighted by its visit and began to give him many little bits of food as he passed by. When he came upon the black haired boy he rubbed his head against his hip until he reached down and scratched his head. " little cat how did you get down here? We had better get you back outside before the Lord of the house finds you, the last pet we had he made us eat to save money on food." He scooped the cat up into his little arms and down the long hallway to the door. He had been hearing the celebrations take place outside and had decided it was a good time to check them out. No one really cared where the bastards went so long as they didn't bring the lord trouble and the boy was a skilled pickpocket, he could line his little pockets with silvers maybe even gold on a night like this.

He held the little cat in his arms as he ascended the stairway to the doors outside, he pushed them open with his free hand; leaving the cat in his left. He exited the basement of the brothel and skipped his way to the cobble path that ran up the hills towards the better parts of the city. He looked up to find the moon but a thick cover of clouds had moved in hiding the stars and moon, storm clouds; they flickered with life rumbling, the air felt staticky making the hair on the back of his arms stand up.

He crossed the path to a small patch of grass and placed the cat in the ground, " ok little kitty, go on now away from this place unless you want to become kitty stew." The cat meowed and walked off and jumped onto a wall then over it to the woods behind it. His curiosity began to peek, what WAS beyond the walls of La'velle? The little boy slumped against the wall in the grass and forgot about picking pockets and imagined blood thirsty hulking green beasts with pigs snouts and large tusks carrying battle axes and long swords who towered over even the largest man. He imagined large powerful swipes knocking down rows of soldiers, like the images seen on the tavern walls posted by the royal guard. He imagined techno-drivers to be giant armor men with smaller knights inside them battling sword and axe. He dreamed of himself one day piloting a great armored giant, becoming a great hero to his people. His mother named him Greggan but being a bastard boy gave him the sir name of an orphan: La'Velle. A whores bastard is always looked at as a garbage, often unable to find fair work and almost always unable to marry. Their only hope was magic or a successful career as a soldier otherwise they would end up as bandits or sailors or stablemen shoveling shit. With his size Greggan could be chosen as a stuart ; he wished for magic the most, he was enthralled with the mages that come through the brothel showing off to the ladies inside . He had never shown any magical abilities outside of his vivid imagination, his mother often complained he was dead to the world when he was inside his head and would often smack him hard enough to leave a ringing in his ears when he would ignore her calls.

Deep in his daydreams of battling the orc scum something cause him to lose his train of thoughts. The air made it hard to breathe, it was thick like potato soup and tasted foul. The storm clouds above seemed devilish, hellish bolts of lightning whips and crackled hitting the lightning rods across the city; popping and crackling melting after each strike. Greggan could feel the clouds anger, as if the arcana stored within spoke his heart and he could feel its intent. "Level the city, remove the Blood king, kill them all". A thousand voices began to pierce his thoughts, screams and cries for justice, for Ivan the Blood kings head. He saw the cloud release a powerful beam of purple light, he could see the lightning cover the city like webs of a spider, and he could hear the screams of the people caught inside this hellish curse.

Greggan could see the exit gate of the city, he could run right now and save himself but he was afraid. He was just a little boy, no skills other than pick pocketing, and no money. He had no magic either, as well as no way to protect himself from the dangers of the road.

He could hear the storm crack louder as it prepared to let loose its power, a few more moments. Without his own permission he jumped to his feet and began sprinting towards the gate, this was it he was making his decision wether he wanted to or not; something was driving him towards the unknown.

Behind him the cloud seemed to become dead silent, no crackling or popping no flickering. It shone bright purple; the center begun to spew comets into the buildings below sending stone shrapnel below crushing smaller building and people. Screamed began to flood the upper portions of the city as comets began to hit the castle and then the rest of La'Velle. Greggan ran as hard as his little legs would take him; a comet crashed behind him the force sent him rolling closer to his goal. His head felt fuzzy and he couls smell the smells of singed flesh and hair, he wanted to cry but something pushed him to stand up and run some more. He reached the edge of the gate he took one more look at the city and the storm above; the storm cloud had begun to open up and the comets had ceased. People were fleeing to the exit gates and shipyards, trampling the weak like children and women and elderly in their panic. It did not matter, those who escaped were met by masked mages both arcane and elemental hiding in the trees of the roads below. No one was to escape, no one was to survive. Greggan immediately began to run further down the road hoping he could hide somewhere or get overlooked. He heard the silence behind him before the clouds great power was unleashed; it created a blinding light as it hit the city below, vaporizing the stones and people caught in it. The castle crumbled, the blast claimed even the voices of its victims. The evil of the attack was the lack of screams that followed the blast, as if it claimed their very souls. He kept running ahead not wanting to look behind him at everything he had just lost, he held back his tears and focused on getting far away. Out of the corner of his eye he swore he saw a girl, or the flash of green eyes and black hair, he assumed it was just a shadow until he saw her again further ahead of him popping from a tree shadow. "An autumn witch!" He thought to himself, he'd only heard of them from stories his care takers would tell him and the other children at the brothel. She popped hack into another shadow and was gone as quick as she was seen. Up ahead he could hear the blasts of magic being cast upon the fleeing mobs from the city, as well as the screams of those who tried to hide until it was over. " no one makes it out alive, by decree of the the Magestrate, we can't allow even one babe!" A mage clad in grey wearing a grey hood and cloak said with authority at a small group of other mages. He cast an elemental spell sending bolts of lightning at the mobs coming their way causing those in its direct path to explode while frying those who weren't so lucky. Two mages in red cloaks sent large fire balls at the few who managed to be missed all together by the lightning. It was a gruesome sight to see in the dark, had it been daylight the scene would have surely driven all those who had seen it mad. Greggan found a tree with deep spaces in its roots where he could fit, exhausted from his escape and in shock from the sight of the mobs of survivors being slaughtered in ways he had never imagined he curled up deep inside the roots.