So, I know I'm putting this up pretty close to the end for the challenge (mostly due to the fact it utterly slipped my mind) but I figured I would go ahead and post it, because why not? Either way, this is my entry for the origin story challenge!
Ever since Marcus was born, he had been taught that he was neither a rank of nobility nor a rank of poor stature. No, you see, Marcus was the middle ground, that grey area no one knew of until they looked at the detail and fine print of it all. That's simply how things worked in Tannha. You were either a somebody, a lesser somebody, or a shadow on the wall that was seldom noticed without really looking. And that's exactly what the Velafi's were.
The Velafi family was a lineage of little recognition for their surprising capabilities in the realm of sorcery. Of course, seldom did this factor matter in their domain. Their gifts were squandered by their duties of serving a king they never uttered the name of unless absolutely required. That's where Marcus came into play.
Marcus was one of the newer additions to the staff of servants in the castle of Tannha, as he had only been serving for three years. He was one of many really. Surprisingly, the Velafi's were not the only servants of the king, although, they were the only lineage to serve the royal house generation after generation. Most others were people of poor stature looking for some source of income as well as warm food and bed. Marcus never blamed them though. With the shabby conditions of the villages surrounding the kingdom, it was no surprise some resorted to taking refuge in the home of the very bloodline that ruined it all.
As a child, Marcus was shielded from such truths. But now the young teifling was fifteen years of age. He wasn't blind and the evidence was far too obvious. Many times, the boy had stood by the king's throne with a tea tray in hand, listening to beggars who collapsed to their knees in tears. All of their stories were the same. Starvation, dehydration, illness. So many forms of death and yet the merciless king did nothing.
Though, one faithful day, Marcus had been sent by his father to wait upon a king of a neighboring country who had come to pay Tannha's king a visit over business matters. Part of his duties were serving said guest in his private quarters. On his first visit he happened to receive an interesting tidbit of information.
His supposed king was not of true lineage nor royal blood. No, he had come to power as a tyrant whom had formed a coup, promising the people prosperity and gaining their only to turn around and stab them in the back as soon as he had gotten a taste of power.
To say it disgusted the young Velafi would be an understatement. With the knowledge of the failed revolution, Marcus returned home as quickly as he was allowed and searched his room for a particular item, a plan of escape in mind.
Yes, there was one thing he had hidden from the sight of others and that was a small pouch in which he strapped to his leg. The special thing about this pouch was that it was virtually a bottomless pit. A place in which the boy could store whatever he desired.
So, setting to work, he gathered various clothes, fruits, and even a dagger or two and stuffed them into the pouch. Looking at his clothes, he assumed they would do for the time being. Once he left, he would be able to find nicer, more elegant clothes. Attire that would help him spread the Velafi name and make it infamous!
The young Velafi grabbed a dark cloak that he had seen his father use time and time again and pulled it onto his shoulders in a flourish. Pulling the hood up, the young teifling set to running out of the kingdom with little to no trouble at all. After all, the guards were nothing more than a group of drunkards pretending they could do anything at all in their blushing and staggering states.
It wasn't much later the boy found himself standing on a dock. Little more than a few minutes later he was on a boat out to sea, much to his distaste. He was never one for the ocean or boats. He felt quite trapped on them. But that was an explanation for another time.
Looking back at the island that would soon be a dot on the horizon, Marcus closed his eyes, looking rather somber. He had left his home, his family, and his very way of life. But such sacrifices were necessary if he planned to show the world his skill and the value of his very name. The only trace of him left in Tannha was a memory, a violet left on his parent's bed, as well as a note he left next to the flower explaining it all. Well, all that he could while in a rush. Now he had to go through with his words. He had to make his name known and that would take some time.
'Soon...' he told himself.
Soon he would be Marcus Velafi... slayer of gods.
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