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A Little Introduction...Ryeker, the Northern Archer. (A Beginning!)

Discussion in 'Fan Art' started by Aetheriel, Mar 25, 2018.

  1. Aetheriel

    Aetheriel Member

    Likes Received:
    Mar 11, 2018
    Hey guys! So, I decided to play around with a little idea I have, which is to write short-stories about my own Hero within the King's Raid World, and his interactions with other heroes and NPCs, etc. -- I wrote this first piece in about 15min while trying to hide from my boss! :D I hope you like it! This is just a quick, quick introduction to Ryeker and his first day back in the Kingdom.

    Let me know who else Ryeker should meet, if you have anyone in mind!

    I'll try to bring my best in the future.


    The sun was at its zenith, sitting high and directly in the center of the sky. The hot light from the radiant sphere beat down on the outskirts of the Orvelian Kingdom, leaving adventurers, farmers, citizens and guards all at the mercy of its heat. There, in that sunlight and on the well-worn road that led to Orvel capital, a lone man walked with cowl drawn over his head and a worn bow slung over his shoulder. His eyes never seemed to leave the road, his pace did not seem to change in the slightest. Each footstep was the cadence to a man who would have fit seamlessly into a march. A soldier, it would appear. Guards and others gave him looks in-passing, but that is all they were; passing glances. As the wanderer approached the gate to the large city, he drew his hood back.

    “Ah, Orvel,” Ryeker said as he lifted his arms and spread them out wide, inhaling deeply and taking in the entire scene of the city before him. “It has been awhile!” He laughed, heading down the main road that would lead him directly to the city center. As a man that came from the Barbarian Kingdoms of the north, Ryeker was quick to pick out of a crowd. That was mostly due to his height. His size and build were that of a normal human, maybe making him a runt by the standards of the barbarians, but there was no mistaking his aura. With broad shoulders, toned muscles and well-worn armor, it was evident that this man was not one to mess with, unless you were looking for a fun-filled brawl. A barbarian’s mentality is often scarier than his build.

    Everything was exactly as the archer had remembered it to be, except he swore that maybe there were a few more people, as well as people spreading rumors of their own heroism and mentions of the demon-menace of a hundred years ago. With a perked brow, the lone wanderer strode up to a shop that was being carefully ran by a young girl. Before his eyes even had chance to land on the girl’s products, she was already spouting, “Welcome to May’s General Shop! The freshest produce, quality wares; you won’t find a better way to spend your gold!”

    “…you own this place?” Ryeker asked as he looked around. Sure enough, it did seem as if this little girl was the only one running the day-to-day operations of the establishment. The shop was well-maintained with weapons of decent quality, to weapons of unbelievable quality; basic shopper's fare, fruits and veggies, and then surprisingly, a section that had a little bit of anything and everything. Bottles, fragments and random odds and ends could be found in this corner of May's place.

    “What, you don’t think a girl can run a business?” May asked, her tone remained even and she never lost that saleswoman’s smile of hers.

    “No, not that,” Ryeker responded, lifting a well-crafted bow off of its hanging place on the wall. He spoke as he inspected the weapon, making only fleeting glances towards the young shopkeep. “I just thought you would have some more supervision is all. Someone to watch the shop while you help customers.” As he was holding the weapon, he looked to the little girl behind the counter and canted his head. “Do you mind?” He asked the question with a finger lightly tugging on the string of the curved, wooden shaft.

    "People seem to have -some- scruples," she chuckled. "No one robs a little girl!" Then, she shrugged when her eyes met Ryeker's questioning look towards her wares. “If you break it, you pay for it.”

    Ryeker nodded and lifted the bow, simultaneously pulling on the string and pushing on the wooden grip of the shaft. With relative ease, he had drawn the bow back until the string was touching his cheek. To the warrior’s surprise, May shook her head with a look of disappointment. He loosened his grip and brought the weapon to rest at his side. “Something wrong with the bow?”

    “No, no…” She tapped her chin as she thought. Suddenly, she disappeared beneath the wooden countertop and came back up with a bow the likes of which the northern archer had never seen. He swore, the weapon might as well have called out to him and him alone. “…try this one!” She smiled widely. “It is going to run quite a bit more on the price, but you are undoubtedly getting your gold’s-worth.”

    Ryeker approached the counter, reverently picking up the bow May had set onto the countertop. As he inspected the weapon, various strange details seemed to jump out and grab him. Blue diamonds glinted near the grip, the string itself seemed to be endlessly braided and more durable than anything he had seen. “…what is it?” He turned the weapon in his hand. The grains in the wood were flawlessly running towards either end of the bow, the wood seemed to be harvested from the land of the Harpies. Ryeker swore, holding that bow, that it was meant to have been in his hand, no one else’s.

    “I bought it from some old man when he was traveling through!” May chuckled at Ryeker’s enamored expression. “It had a pretty flashy name if I remember right…” Again, the young shopkeeper could be seen tapping her chin. “Ummm…”Winter’s Solstice, Miirok,” I think he named the weapon. He said it was Unique! One-of-a-kind and fit for only the most skilled of archers!” May nodded emphatically.

    “Well then, why was he getting rid of it?” The huntsman asked.

    “I said he was old,” the shopkeeper responded quickly and with a hint of sarcasm. “…and fit for only the most skilled of archers.” Matter-of-factly, May did say, “he was too old to be among that fairly exclusive group.”

    Now, the northern archer was beginning to run at his thoughts. Though he could not explain it, he truly did feel completely drawn to this weapon. Ryeker knew that, no matter what, he had to leave Orvel with this bow in hand. “…and you think I am among the most skilled of archers?” Ryeker’s brow perked when the question was asked. “You have not seen me shoot,” he said.

    “I have seen enough heroes coming through here, or adventurers, mercenaries; whatever.” May, for a very young girl, was beginning to strike the archer as unusually perceptive. “You have the stock of an archer, the shoulders of a man who lives by the bow, the scars of one who has seen battle and look,” she pointed to Ryeker’s exposed forearm. “I can see the countless scars of a string hitting and breaking your skin!” She chuckled. “Besides, for scars like that and of that number, I’d say you are numb to it. Not even using an Archer’s Glove; I assume that pain must be a commonplace feeling for you. Judging based off of those things, I would say that the bow is fit for a man of your style. Try it out, Mr. Archer!”

    “Ryeker,” the man responded, lifting a hand. Inside of his hand, which was only exposed when it met the countertop, was a very heavy sack of gold. Hitting the counter with a raucous thud, it brought the young girl’s eyes from her customer to the sack of wealth. “How much?” He asked. While waiting for May to run some numbers in her own mind, Ryeker began to play with what he hoped would be his newest addition to his own arsenal.

    With delicate efficiency, the marksman pulled back on the string and watched as the limbs of the bow moved seamlessly. He held the bow drawn, the string touching his cheek, to test the resistance of a drawn string. “About sixty pounds of pressure,” Ryeker stated, releasing his draw slowly. Again, he took to inspecting the weapon. “That’s enough to drop one of the giant beasts roaming the forests, and likely enough to pierce the scorpion armor in the Sandlands.”

    “He did say it was a masterwork bow for a master marksman!” May chimed in with a big smile.

    “How much?” Ryeker asked again.

    “For that…” May began with a bit of a scrunched up expression. “I am only willing to get rid of that weapon for the higher-currency of Orvel.”

    The archer’s brow lifted. “Higher-currency..?”

    “Rubies!” May exclaimed with a beaming expression.

    Ryeker sighed. “Rubies? Oh, fine…” Again, he reached for a pouch and once more a loud thud resounded through the shop as the bag hit the counter. Surprisingly, this bag did not look filled with a bunch of small currencies, like the first bag. No, this bag hit the table with a forceful boom and rested there like a fist-sized rock, wrapped in a leather draw-pouch.

    “I believe they said it was worth about twenty-thousand rubies,” Ryeker said with no hint of deceit or cunning. He truly only knew about as much as he was told of the currency. “I am glad someone finally knows how to use it, because I sure don’t. I have been holding on to that for months. Will it cover the bow?”

    “...I would say that about covers it,” May said, reaching over to swipe the ruby off the counter. As an honest merchant would, she did not even look towards Ryeker’s bag of gold that still lay on her countertop. After the jewel was in her hand, she smiled once more and leaned down. Up from the counter came a quiver that matched Ryeker’s new bow with incredible accuracy and attention to detail. No color was the wrong shade, not a single gem glistened a different color. Truly, a masterwork quiver to go with such of unique weapon as Ryeker’s new bow. He leaned over and retrieved his pouch of gold.

    “I am looking for work,” Ryeker said, masking a question in a statement.

    “When you leave, you may head to the Guild House, to the north. A woman named Veronica is there, she will help you find your start.” May grinned, “They often have work for mercenaries, and you might even find a group to do your work with. Umm, you also have the Hero’s Inn, which is just down the street towards the entrance or the city- if you go there, you are bound to find a kindred spirit or two! Maybe you will make some friends.” The little blonde girl stood tall enough to peek over the countertop at the hunter. “Orvelian Guards have work, if you ask them. Their jobs pay more, but they are a bit harder…you and your new weapon look like you can handle it, though. Speaking of tough work, you’re welcome to participate in the Arenas. If you’d like to, go more north than the guild house, until you see a red-headed cat-dog-man, named Gladi!”

    “Thank you, May.” Ryeker bowed his head to the girl. “Perhaps I will be seeing you around.”

    “Oh, if you are like the rest, I will be seeing you a lot! Good luck and don’t die, Mr. Archer!”

    “It is Ryeker,” the archer restated.

    “Alright, Mr. Archer!” She waved emphatically as Ryeker turned for the door. “Come back when you need more things~!”

    Exiting the shop, the barbarian began inspecting his new acquisitions once more. “Miirok,” he repeated. “Winter’s Solstice, hm? How fitting for a Northman to carry a bow named after snow…” He huffed and took towards the guild house, and the hope of employment. “Here we go…wonder who I’ll meet.”
    Last edited: Mar 25, 2018

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