The Revenant Memoirs

Spectators, Heed this advice - (Content Warning)

They weren't kidding when they say war can change you. Sitting idly by watching death and destruction ravage the streets, children slain in their beds, and blood stain the ground I can take it no longer. I have found a new meaning in my name. I no longer hunt and slaughter the innocent, unarmed, or helpless. I am a mercenary.  My Latest client, with an air of familiarity, enters the room. Light dances from the window across the wall and to his face. Suddenly it clicks, Carter. Not, in fact, dead but alive, at least as alive as I am. He strides across the room and I can't help but notice the honey-colored marks covering his skin. My stare breaks and my vision darts to his face, he looks every bit the way I remembered. every way but with one simple difference, an unmistakable look in his eye. A vendetta. It seems Ailios does have a type, my personal life.

As I move North, continuing my search for a new home, I'm greeted by what I had hoped to leave behind. Blood soaks the earth; death fills the streets. There's no doubt in my mind that I'm amidst war. The Lords care not for us as they wreak havoc in our lands. They sit in their lavish throne rooms with their maps and toy soldiers as we are massacred and slain in the streets as collateral.  I can help no one, so I sink into hiding, unwilling to witness the gross malfeasances of the Lords and their government. No more hunting. No more war.

At last unbound from my cursed home on the Isle, we sail through the many smaller islands of Scotland and arrive at the mainland in a city called Ayr. When we dock, a man takes name of those who decide to stay at port and begin new lives. When he stops me, I give my new name, Thayler, so I may start over unbridled by who I once was. But it wasn't enough, these lands require more. The people here are named for their fathers or trades. I must think quickly before he suspects me of lying.  I think of who I am, who I'll need to be to survive. I settle on Slaughter to aid in my reputation with the locals, for it's a hunter's gift. Yet in my heart, I know there is no subtlety in my choice.

And pass they did, the years fly by as I wallow in my self-pity and sorrow. Hardly hunting or feeding, I grow weak and nearly waste away. One morning, day, or maybe night, I look around and notice how much this world has changed. In this new era, I'm pleasantly greeted by boat after boat on our shores. Easy travel, easy escape from my once home, now a bad memory and a metallic taste in my mouth. I leap at the chance to free myself from this torturous self-made prison I've been living in. Some change is in order. A new life awaits me, a new person to become. I think I'll go by Thayler.

Eby visits every few decades. She’s not content to stay put, she prefers to roam the known worlds instead. She’s in town now, though she couldn’t have had worse timing. Ailios has returned to the Isle… He stalks through the town, through the market, that market that was our home, our safe place once. Before he stole it, our lives, our virtues from us. He looks for new entertainment, someone to watch writhe and squirm, knowing they will never be free of him once he sinks his grotesque teeth into their skin. I wonder how he chooses, is it a mere fancy? Convenience? Does he long to see how his venomous scars look on every skin tone he finds? Does he have a list? Eby sees him mere seconds after I do. Her emotions betray her and fear takes over. She tries to unveil the truth about him, the evil he truly is. But of course, Ailios always has a backup plan, an escape hatch, one step ahead of us every time. He’s gone before she can finish her sentence, and soon the town turns on us. In her fear and anger, not only did she unveil his truth, but ours in the process. With Ailios now gone, they only care about the monsters before them. I knew there was no way out for her, not after what she'd said. But I could save myself. I use my reputation with the people of the town, my friends and neighbors, to persuade them towards a false truth. I fear her as a liar and a monster. The town was so quick, too quick to accept my truth and pounce on my poor old friend. It’s not but hours later, Eby is chained to the post at the town's center, she is whipped, battered, and bruised until she can scream no longer. I feel a deep dark sorrow as I feel the warmth of the fire they light under her feet. As the fire climbs higher, her face distorts and she tries and tries to scream, like one note, one second of sound erupting from her lips would make the pain go away. I watch smoke fill the air as her body melts under the flames, they lick skin from muscle and muscle from bone, the sweet stench of dinner left on the fire too long fills my lungs and I gag at the feeling. They wrap her decimated corpse in chains and old sheets as they dump her in a shallow grave, not but 2 feet of ground above her, they burry her in stones. I don’t dare visit her grave, if you can call it that. I don’t dare think of her at all, of what I did to her. I sit in my glen, alone, and let the years pass by once more.

This world, though new and confusing, has an advantage for someone; something, like me. The hunt is greatly encouraged. Hunters are praised for doing the dirty work so others don't have to. I hunt with my bow, as not to arouse any suspicion. One well aimed shot and a quick swipe of a knife and I fill my waterskins for the week. I can drain an animal completely without so much as an eyebrow raise from the local butchers. No one questions the blood loss when the throat is slit.

Calm and content were not the right words anymore. Sedated and complacent fit me much better now. I have fallen to be sure, into a subdued daze, far too "calm" for my own good. The days blend into nights and I know not what time of day it is anymore. It makes no difference to me anyway. The weeks turn to years, to decades, to a century that passes before my idle eyes. In a mere blink, I wake to the world around me. I had been living all this time subconsciously, like an automaton, or a ghost. All traces of my mortal life are lost to time, save my hunting bow and the first coin I made at the trader's market. Even in my autonomous state, I wouldn't dare part with it. As I explore this new world, one thing is apparent over all else, this is not my world anymore.

Carters oasis calms me. No longer do I hide in the underbrush, feeding on shit-covered rats. No more mere mouthfuls of sustenance. Here, I hunt freely. With Carter, I use the bow my father made me as a child. We hunt together, stalking through the trees, bringing down meat for him to trade, and game for me to feed on in peace. When he's gone to market, or on days he cannot join my hunts, my bow gets no use. There's no stalking on the edges of the forest. I walk among the wildlife, seeming like no threat. Of course, they're wrong in that thought. I choose my prey like picking an apple from a tree, I reach out and pluck the life from their bodies. It's truly effortless. I spend most of my free time here, content in the life and routine I have fallen into.