Tales of Wallachia

An Old Story

ARN DIDN'T GET ENOUGH APPRECIATION!

Short story/gods AU

Summary : The legends that the speakers pass down couldn't possibly be true, right? There just as good as bedtime stories...

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Arn had traveled Wallachia his whole life by himself. He was a lone speaker, never once joining another tribe and always kept to himself. He had a rough past, he was forced to flee India, his own country, and make a living here in Europe. The brunette spent many nights in the cold, leaning against the wall of a building for any warmth, he even hitched rides on wagons without the driver knowing. Arn still didn't know how he had managed to survive for so long in his life. As a speaker, he stayed true to his work and helped others, but no one ever helped him.

The Indian was walking about a vacant road just at dusk, night would come soon enough and he would most likely have to sleep on the ground (again). He was on his way to a nearby town for food, anything to keep him alive. But that town wasn't as nearby as he thought as he knew he had a few more miles to go. Arn sighed, he decided to stop walking when the sun finally set despite his aching feet telling him otherwise.

Walking about this road, Arn couldn't help but feel that he was being watched. He looked over his shoulder a few times just to make sure, but saw no one in sight. Every time he looked away though, he could have sworn he heard footsteps. Little did he know that those footsteps he thought he was hearing were actually real. It was still dusk, the sun was taking its time, Arn assumed. He wanted desperately to lay down and rest, but he kept on walking.

It was when he had walked another mile or so that he heard a faint, low growl from behind him. Arn whipped his head around, he knew that definitely wasn't his imagination. At first, he saw nothing, just the forest that surrounded this road. But then he saw a pair of eyes hidden within a bush, they were glowing red and starring at him menacingly. Arn wasn't an idiot, he wasn't like the naive people of Wallachia, he knew exactly what that thing is the bushes was without a second thought.

He immediately turned around and began running for his life, for a demon had been following him this whole time. The beast roared before jumping from its hiding place and pursuing Arn. It was an average demon, only one, but they could still tear a person to ribbons in mer seconds. Arn ran off the road and into the vast, thick forest, uncaring of his aching feet now. His speaker robes would snag on bushes or low branches, luckily they didn't tear or hold him back.

The demon was gaining on him, and Arn took a sharp right turn in hopes of escaping it. Sadly, this didn't work as the brunette's foot tripped over a tree root. With a yell, he fell to the ground. Arn tried to scramble to his feet, but he was too late, the hell spawn was making its way towards him slowly now, raising a clawed hand as it would most definitely slice his face off. Arn was tempted to scream, but he was too choked up with fear as tears formed at the corner of his eyes. Covering his face, he prepared for the worst, ready to die then and there.

But it never came...

The next thing he heard wasn't the sound of his own guts spilling, but the sound of powerful magic as he then heard the demon screech in fear. Slowly looking up from his hands, Arn saw someone who he had never seen before standing in front of him, their back facing him. There was a bright light surrounding them, like a divine glow. "Dispari!" He heard the voice of a women yell at the demon, setting it afire before it screeched once more and died, turning into nothing but ash.

Arn remained silent, he had seen speaker magic, but that was nothing like he had ever seen before. Suddenly, the person in front of him turned to face the brunette. It was in fact a woman with strawberry blonde hair, blue eyes, and light skin. She wore something similar to Arn's own speaker robes, but they were much more expensive looking than his, outlines with silver as they appeared to have all different kinds of designs along them. This woman had a long staff in one hand made of wood, and she had one, long owl feather in her hair.