Information

Renalia
Legacy Name: Renalia

The Hydrus Priggle
Owner: Pureflower

Age: 7 years, 9 months, 3 weeks

Born: June 30th, 2016

Adopted: 7 years, 9 months, 3 weeks ago

Adopted: June 30th, 2016

Pet Spotlight Winner
March 21st, 2021

Statistics

• Level: 76
   
• Strength: 161
   
• Defense: 10
   
• Speed: 10
   
• Health: 10
   
• HP: 10/10
   
• Intelligence: 163
   
• Books Read: 141
• Food Eaten: 0
• Job: Topiary Tender

Ren's fundamental problem was a deep-rooted inability to control her temper.

All she had to do was lower her eyes, close her mouth, and be another two-legged sheep when the demon passed through her family's village. It was one simple act of subservience that would let her keep her happy life of raising colts and enjoying the aroma of pies left to cool on windowsills.

She night still have been spared from the mighty Voorik's attention if she had contented herself with one angry glance. Instead, she had looked him in the eye and spat on him.

Her sisters had cried, her mother had pleaded for mercy and her father offered all he owned in exchange for a pardon for his headstrong daughter. Voorik was oblivious to their cries. He'd ordered Ren bound and thrown on the back of a horse like a sack of summer turnips on their way to market.

Voorik's pursuit of the blue-eyed boy took him on a different path within the hour but his men were not so disinterested in Ren. She was no noble beauty but neither was she as plain as most straw-haired farm wenches with the faces of cows. Thick chestnut hair and flashing gray eyes made her something of an oddity, even among her siblings.

Sixteen years was ample time to develop a tongue sharp enough to dissuade unwanted suitors. Every rogue that came within six feet got a lashing that would do an old crone proud.

Even the boldest of the escort trio grew sick of her taunts and insults in a very short time. The one she'd taken to calling Double Horse Rump was the last to exchange words.

"You talk smart now but you'll be singing a different tune when Babble gets you in his little playpen. Trained by Skreev, that one was. Old Skreev never had a merciful bone in his body...and that was before he signed on with Voorik."

Her first escape attempt was so ridiculously simple that it very nearly succeeded. She threw herself as far to the right as she could, flopping off the horse's back and rolling the short distance over the edge of the bridge to land in the river below. Only it wasn't a river. It was a stream that barely came up to her ankles. All she got for her efforts were bruises, a few choice words, and wet clothes. The captain proclaimed that if she was too good to ride a horse, she could walk behind the column.

She tried again that night, her skinny wrists slipping out of the bonds her captors were too lazy to check. What she mistook for a small shrub turned out to be a sentry in disguise.

He didn't look much older than she was. She had no skill for flirting but her attempt seemed to be winning his silence...right up until the moment he called for his captain. She hadn't taken into account that a fifth son's hunger for promotion can overpower all other types.

She yelled curses over her shoulder until they gagged her and tied her to one of the stakes usually reserved for horses. Her view for the rest of the night was a patch of weeds turned silver by the moonlight.

Her spirits sank further when the men doubled their pace, talking about the haunch of roast mutton awaiting them and comparing notes on the local village girls. They would reach their tower base in half a day.

She didn't pay any notice to the lone traveler at first. They'd passed their fair share of shepherds and farmers, all without incident. There was something about this gray-clad figure that offended her captors. They halted in unison, their captain wheeling to block the stranger's path.

"A boy walks alone out of a village as good as Whitestone without a blacksmith's kit or a farmer's cart, I'm thinking he'd almost have to be a bandit. My boys here are tired. They want to settle in for a week of rest. They won't be too happy if we have to go on the road to track you down in an hour, so I think I'll just save them the bother."

The stranger met the captain's gaze without flinching. "I've caused no trouble for you, sir. I want only to travel in peace."

Ren could not see the boy's face with his back to her but she could hear by his tone that he was near her own age.

The captain paled. "Voorik will have half the units in the land looking for you, lad. You should have heeded his warning and kept behind those black stone walls."

"Do not presume to be a friend, Captain. You're better suited for a puppet, dancing on his strings and jumping at his command. I'll only ask you once more to let me pass."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Boy. Voorik will pay a mighty ransom for you. He might even make me..."

The captain's fantasy promotion was never named. The traveler moved with inhuman speed, disarming and dazing all six of the guards with the graceless effort of an eagle falling on a flock of doves.

She got her first good look at him when he cut her bonds. His face was plain enough, black hair cut in the usual village style. There was certainly nothing fancy in his clothes or the worn leather boots on his feet.

It was the demon's orange eyes that gave him away as something not quite human. As if the warrior dance hadn't been warning enough.

"You...you're the demon's spawn."

Those disconcerting eyes narrowed as he studied her. "You're his captive. At least I have sense enough to keep moving away from Voorik. Your situation hints at a recent proximity I can't envy."

It's not as if I wished him to appear in our village. He goes where he likes and leaves the people to suffer. What can a few simple farmers do against a demon?

"That's your greatest error. Yours and the rest of the world's. Voorik is human. He uses smoke and mirrors and coats that cursed staff in a fine powder that keeps the fire burning, but he is no more mystical than swamp gas. We can only hope that the great spirits of the mountain see fit to strike him down, and soon."

"Don't talk to me as if we're on the same side! He's your father.

"I didn't choose my family, farm girl."

"My name is Ren and I never said you...wait, how do you know I'm a farmer's daughter?"

He laughed at her dark look. "I'm Voon. I didn't use any magical powers, I assure you. That gown has the neutral color popular among those who work in the dirt and you have the gray eyes seen often in the Fielder and Seeder lines. Plus, your accent sort of gives you away. It has that certain subtle whistle through the nose that puts one in mind of a pig."

Ren scowled. "We can't all be raised at the table of the mighty, drinking bubbling lemon water. What kind of name is Voon, anyways?"

Voon shrugged. "It's an old name. It means "son of fire". Mother thought it might please Father enough that he would simply leave me to her care and forget I existed. Her plan very nearly worked...but none of that matters. I'm going to a place where Voorik will never find me. You can come, if you like."

She couldn't go home and risk bringing Voorik's wrath down on her family. Besides, she'd never quite gotten over the fact that her last verbal sparring partner had left her for a lady in frilly gowns. "Just don't go thinking I'll mend your clothes and minding chickens on your behalf, Son of Fire. I go where I want and do what I like."

Voon looked down on the slashed ropes she had discarded, smiling but not saying a word.

Credits:

Profile coding by Bug
Story by Pureflower
Background photo taken by Pureflower
Font from Google Fonts

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