Mortine

It took him a few minutes to regain his composure and climb out of the brambles he'd been knocked into. He should have known it was a trap...he had underestimated his sister. He saw her running, and felt like it might be his only chance to escape as well. Then he saw the bow being drawn and the arrow was loosed. He reached out a hand, as futile as it was, to warn her. He saw it hit it's mark, and saw her fall. What he didn't see was Bortun loading another arrow into his bow, aiming at him and then he felt the pain. He instantly began feeling tired, and soon fell into a deep sleep. He was woken only a few hours later when a bucket of water was splashed on him. He found himself tied to a chair, in the same situation he'd put Martsia in. "Welcome back, son." Kershaw said, stepping forward. They were in another one of their cellars, Martsia was nowhere to be seen. He worried for her, but he also knew why he was here. "Ye have been sendin a lot of letters lately, Mortine...who have ye been sendin them to?" Kershaw asked, picking up a fire poker as he approached the younger lalafell. Mortine went pale, keeping his mouth closed. He was going to stall Kershaw as long as he could...hoping Mar would find a way out of any predicament she was in.

Mortine had to be the dumb one that day. He'd been sending letters to the moogle as clues so they would come and get Martsia before it was too late. He could only stall Kershaw for so long, and Martsia herself was doing a fine job in distracting him and stalling any horrid events to come. But Mortine wanted nothing more than to run away and hide...to be free from all of this. In that way he and Martsia were very much alike. He was walking outside near the cellars when he smelled smoke. Dashing around the corner he saw it seeping through the cracks of the cellar his sister was contained in. Without thinking of calling for help he lunged forward and unlocked the chains. He should have known. Mar was always crafty, always clever...and at times, very very angry. The moment the chains were freed he heard a muffled yell. Reaching for the handles, he didn't realize that he was in for a surprise. Within seconds the doors broke off of their hinges as Mar, weilding a strange, mangled weapon of chair parts, smashed into it with her shoulder. She had torn a sleeve of the dress she'd been so 'kindly' given and tied it around her mouth so she wouldn't breathe the smoke. She'd started the fire to get him to do exactly what he'd just done. And now she turned on him. He didn't have time to react as she slammed her makeshift weapon into his side, feeling splinters digging into his flesh as he was propelled into the nearby brush. He heard her take off running into the woods, muttering curses under her breath. Moments later Kershaw was outside with Bortun, and just happened to see her sprinting through the forest.

Mortine wasn't pleased when his father dragged Martsia into the house and changed her clothes. The constant disgusting comments from Bortun about not seeing the bride before the wedding made him want to light the house up. He was taking a walk when he heard shouting. He came running to the house to find his sister screaming, his father roaring back. Kershaw had Mar pinned to the floor by her stomach and she had managed to get one arm free. She grasped a knife from the wreckage of an overturned table and stabbed her father in the calf. Kershaw shouted in pain and kicked her in the head twice, knocking her unconscious and limped over to the living room to sit down. Bortun came running with a medical kit to tend to the mans wounds. Mortine looked down at her and sighed. After untying her he took her back to the cellar and locked her in again.

"Sit down son." Kershaw said, motioning to a oak chair in the dining room. Mortine knew better than to decline, and sat where he was told. Their father was a very dangerous man. Behind the exterior of a jolly miner, was a cruel monster with unbelievable skills in Dark Magics. When Mortine had been slashed in the back by Kershaw's axe, he felt his life ebb away, but he was not fortunate enough to die. Kershaw nursed him back from the brink...and now he owed him. Owing this man was torture in an of itself, not as bad as the actual tortures the man had inflicted on him after the attack. How could he have been so stupid...suggesting that he and Martsia run to family in Gridania to escape from Kershaw's clutches. Of course Kershaw knew where his brother was hiding, of course he would find them. And of course he would split his brother's wife in two with an axe and then eliminate his own flesh and blood. "Mortine." Kershaw said in a dark tone. The young man quickly focused, not wanting to incur his father's wrath any further. "Ye know why I kept ye alive...ye know why we must do this. Do not be weak with me livelihood boy. When she is awake, you will go down there...and if she does not agree to my demands, you will make her agree." Mortine felt ill, and could feel the blood draining from his face. He didn't want anything to do with this at all. Forcing Martsia into any situation where she did not want was like forcing a rabid Coeurl to fit into a tiny cage. Martsia was free spirited, and although her friends did not know of this...she was not one to make angry. Her wrath was known by many neighbors they'd had in Limsa. People assumed that the red streak in her hair was blood that had stained her locks. He let himself imagine a simpler time, when her hair burned red in the sun, before all the trauma and terror she had gone through. All of the stress she had endured when her father started all of this nonsense caused her hair to change, and within a few years it was mostly a grayish silver. Now it was almost completely gray, save for a few tendrils of red. He knew that if she lived through this event, that it would go completely silver. He was startled awake when Kershaw slammed a fist on the table. He'd lost concentration again....this tended to happen when he'd used too much magic...and also when his flesh was still newly ripped open. "I'll do what I must, Father." He responded, and thankfully it seemed to soothe the man before him. Kershaw smiled and left the room. After asking his brother in law to put in some stitches on his back he ventured round the yard and approached the cellar. He looked around: Gridania was so peaceful and calm at this moment. But he knew that Martsia's friends would come for her. That night when he was sure that Kershaw was sleeping, he sent an envelope to the Midnight Moogle. Within it was a single leaf and some berries, of a berry plant that only grew in one area. If Kershaw ever found out that he'd sent it, he would be killed. But he was willing to take that risk.

Mortine had known it would be difficult to find his sister. After an exciting and painful battle with her friend Jig, he knew to be wary. If she kept a magic user around, either she had lost to him, or she had defeated him and she chose to let him stay around her. At least that's what his sister used to be like: Bold, daring, and sometimes cruel. But from what he'd noticed from raiding her room at the inn, she seemed to have calmed down a lot. She smiled more openly, let her guard down, and even collected things like axes. The old Martsia never had use for older things that she no longer needed. Once she got a new weapon, the old one was trash to her. To his surprise, and disappointment, she was a lot weaker than he thought she would be. An easy jolt of electricity was all it took to down her. Although his scar had reopened in the battle against Jig, he chose to carry her to a nearby village and tap into the aetheryte there. Moments later they were in the misty morning forests of the Shroud, and he set her body in some brush, making a mad dash for their home beneath a grand tree. After a few minutes he came back with a chocobo drawn wagon, and picked her up, setting her in the back, and making his way home. Their father, Kershaw, was very pleased that he had finally found her, but was frustrated when he noticed the slightly burned flesh around her neck. "You should no better than to do that to her Mortine. She will be your wife soon enough, I hope you don't treat her so roughtly." He grunted, tying her up and carrying her down the stairs of one of their many cellars. He set her on a straw bed and kissed her gently on the forehead. "I'm glad she's home...finally we can rebuild our family. The Troys will reclaim their fame and fortune for being one of the strongest bloodlines in Lalafell history." He smiled at Mort, and walked past him, up and out of the cellar. Mortine felt a small tinge of something, and he hated it. He had no reason to feel guilty for anything. She'd had her fun...and her 'freedom' but now she owed it to her family to become his bride, and once they had a child...hopefully a boy, they could finally change the fate of the family. The Calamity had destroyed all of her sisters, her mother as well. All that was left was Mortine, Kershaw, and Bortun...her brother in law. He was startled out of his thoughts when he heard her begin to wake, and slowly he made his way up the steps of the cellar. She finally woke and when she did he looked at her and calmly said "Welcome home." before shutting the cellar doors and locking them with chains. She would eventually break...and then he would make her his bride. Until then, she would rot in the cellar. Yet the guilt still gnawed at him, and a few minutes later he had written a letter and sent it to the Moogle. Dear Moogle Residents, Do not bother going to Coerthas, to find her, for I have already retrieved her and brought her home. Thank you for all cooperation. I look forward to seeing you all again soon. Mortine.