RPG
Murtagh was peaceful as he walked the corridors through his old haunts. He felt quite a bit melancholy for some reason as he walked up a flight of stairs.
Yes, he was back. The question was whether or not that was a good thing.
The thing was, he trusted few people these days. Sarai and Thorn. Two good friends. But he didn't trust them like he should have. There was something missing. And as he paced silently toward the room where he made his bed now, he decided that the missing thing was history. He had not known either for more than a year. And while Thorn shared a mental connection with him, bonding the pair for life, Sarai was left out. He knew about as much about his nearest human companion as he did about the elven lands.
Not much. But he could change that.
He took a seat facing the window and gazed out over the city. Uru'baen. Not as beautiful as nature, not as orderly as most cities. He'd lived there most of his life, despite his worldliness. It was nearly October, and so the leaves were turning colors in some places. But the Capital was as gray as ever. Head in hands, Murtagh pondered the unchanging nature of civilization.
Murtagh
The son of a monster... but not a monster himself.
a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Music
Last seen at: Lectre Mansion Grand Ballroom
Groups
Description
Sex: male
Species: human
Alignment: Galby (but not by choice!)
Appearance: With his unkempt mane of black hair and piercing grey eyes, Murtagh looks like someone who doesn't get nearly enough sleep for a man of his energy level. He has a very broad and powerful body, with quite a bit of coiled strength in his muscular shoulders. There is a nasty scar on his back that runs from his hip to his shoulder. He typically wears black leather costume, even at fomal events. He is never without a weapon and has a hunted look in his face.
Personality: Murtagh is stubborn as a mule. He believes that his way is the right way. He hates authority and politicians with a passion. He angers somewhat easily, but he doesn't give a rat's tail end about the little things. He mopes frequently. He's obsessively independent, believing that he has to overcome stuff on his own. He loves gaining abilities; his new skills are the only brightside to his situation in his eyes. He doesn't mind killing for the greater good.
Fighting Abilities: Murtagh has a more brutal fighting style than Eragon, although he is somewhat graceful. His movements are much more vehement than his alleged brother. He is decent at archery but aweful with other weapons, such as the axe or the spear.
Magical Abilities: He has learned just a few spells in the ancient language. However, he has been taught a way of thinking that allows him to use his basic knowledge in a plethora of ways.
Weaknesses: Hasty; is only strong with the aid of many Eldunari
Weaponry: Zar'roc
Other skills: N/A
Short Bio: The son of Morzan the Forsworn, Murtagh has always denied his heritage. He teamed up with Eragon, fled to the Varden, was recaptured by Galbatorix's agents, and somehow managed to hatch Thorn's egg. Ever since, his life has been a living hell.
Famous Quotations:
--- "Some people shouldn't be allowed out in public. I'm one of those people."
--- "My mind is the only sanctuary that has not been stolen from me. Men have tried to breach it before, but I've learned to defend it vigorously, for I am only safe with my innermost thoughts."
--- "Black humor is the only one I have."
Sex: male
Alignment: Galby (not by choice...)
Rider: Murtagh
Appearance: ruby scales, pointy fangs
Personality: Thorn, his growth having been accelerated at such an alarming rate, has the mental quality of a very young hatchling. Needy and childish, Thorn attaches himself to anything or being who cares for him at all. He hates being alone above all other things. He is very friendly to others who treat him well. However, he is deadly when anything threatens Murtagh at all. He has grown to hate Galbatorix - but Shruiken is kind at times.
Anyhow... thanks for the read!
Oh, by the way, I love Murtagh. Just felt like expressing my love for a fictional character somewhere over here. :D[/quote]
Murtagh's Story
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Murtagh turned, only a tad startled at the disturbance. "Hmm? Oh, yes. Galbatorix isn't exactly... chatty." He chuckled slightly, adjusting his dirty tunic. Oops. He would have to change into something clean before getting too comfortable.
Still, it had been quite a while since he'd seen Sarai, and he had missed her greatly. An added bonus - he felt more comfortable talking to her than before, which was great. Something had broken; some kind of tension in the air had popped, and so now he could relax and be himself. Not exactly loner, general Murtagh, but not brooding, dark Murtagh necessarily either. Just... Murtagh. Just himself.
Turning to his black humor, he inquired with a slight smirk, "What fool was it to string you up like that?" He would have to pay the price for messing with his lady later.
Wait, what?
Still, it had been quite a while since he'd seen Sarai, and he had missed her greatly. An added bonus - he felt more comfortable talking to her than before, which was great. Something had broken; some kind of tension in the air had popped, and so now he could relax and be himself. Not exactly loner, general Murtagh, but not brooding, dark Murtagh necessarily either. Just... Murtagh. Just himself.
Turning to his black humor, he inquired with a slight smirk, "What fool was it to string you up like that?" He would have to pay the price for messing with his lady later.
Wait, what?
Murtagh snorted, feeling oddly lightheaded. "Well, could you tell them together?" he asked contrarily. Then he spun in his seat slowly. "Hey. Long time no see." He stood and walked over near her, then pointed at the sky. "Lovely day outside, isn't it?"
Since he was only a few inches taller, he felt like he should comfort her or something. Murtagh didn't know how to deal with those sort of things.
You'd best figure it out quick-like, laddy-buck, the voice of an old mentor said in the back of his mind. Your time is come. Don't just stand there...
Since he was only a few inches taller, he felt like he should comfort her or something. Murtagh didn't know how to deal with those sort of things.
You'd best figure it out quick-like, laddy-buck, the voice of an old mentor said in the back of his mind. Your time is come. Don't just stand there...
Murtagh nodded gratefully. "Bath would be wonderful," he said, heading in to the little room. "I'll be quick. You just set up your stuff."
And he was.
After his bath, he took a quick look in the small mirror on the wall. First at his face, then his back. He needed to shave, which he did easily with magic. Also, his scar hadn't gone anywhere. A bit sad, but he was also a bit glad of that. The scar was part of what defined him. As long as it caused no pain, it was part of his history. To remind him of what he needed to avoid in his own life.
He then finished dressing himself and exited the bath chambers. "Go for it," he said, dragging his dirty clothes to his reclaimed seat by the window. There he sprawled out luxuriously. He would think about what to do next later. For now, he only wanted to relax.
And he was.
After his bath, he took a quick look in the small mirror on the wall. First at his face, then his back. He needed to shave, which he did easily with magic. Also, his scar hadn't gone anywhere. A bit sad, but he was also a bit glad of that. The scar was part of what defined him. As long as it caused no pain, it was part of his history. To remind him of what he needed to avoid in his own life.
He then finished dressing himself and exited the bath chambers. "Go for it," he said, dragging his dirty clothes to his reclaimed seat by the window. There he sprawled out luxuriously. He would think about what to do next later. For now, he only wanted to relax.
By the time that Sarai had finished her bath, Murtagh's mood had shifted again. And, of course, upon seeing Sarai, his head started feeling light again, as though he were flying.
Or perhaps just a tad high.
As Sarai walked near his window seat, he felt a bit silly, so he reached out a finger and poked her in the arm. Then he grinned goofily. Oh, gods, what had he done?
Or perhaps just a tad high.
As Sarai walked near his window seat, he felt a bit silly, so he reached out a finger and poked her in the arm. Then he grinned goofily. Oh, gods, what had he done?
Murtagh just blinked at her for a second, then shook himself out of it. "I'm bored," he told Sarai. "We should do something." He pointed toward his window again.
Murtagh nodded, bemused. "Yeah. Something."
He thought for a moment. "It's a nice day, not too warm. And I know the city pretty well. How about a walk?"
He thought for a moment. "It's a nice day, not too warm. And I know the city pretty well. How about a walk?"
Murtagh stood with a smile. "Let's head out, then," he told her. "I can show you some places I used to go." With that, the Rider led Sarai toward the door, locking his elbow gallantly around hers.
As they crossed the threshold and entered the hallway, Murtagh hesitated, then nodded. "There's no harm in a simple outing," he declared. "And it's not as though we're plotting to destroy his monarchy or something dire."
If only, he thought, grimacing. If only we could.
If only, he thought, grimacing. If only we could.
On such a beautiful day, Uru'baen was lit up like a lamp, despite the grey organization of its streets. The Empire had brought prosperity to its streets, and as Murtagh and Sarai walked away from the palace and toward more familiar places, he thought about how the Empire itself was not a bad thing, just its leader.
Finally, they climbed to the top of a tall hill and Murtagh pointed. "That's where we're bound," he told Sarai. He pointed toward the Arts District, which was where he had grown up. Several tall buildings of more gray stone sprouted, and Murtagh smiled. It really was a beautiful sight in his opinion.
Finally, they climbed to the top of a tall hill and Murtagh pointed. "That's where we're bound," he told Sarai. He pointed toward the Arts District, which was where he had grown up. Several tall buildings of more gray stone sprouted, and Murtagh smiled. It really was a beautiful sight in his opinion.
Murtagh nodded. "Of course, milady." Grinning shyly, he walked with her over the crest of the hill and into the streets of the Arts District.
He glanced sideways at his companion as he walked, fumbling absentmindedly with the clasp on his cloak. He wasn't sure what to say to her, the nearer they got to his old home. The Arts District was an excellent place to live - for the rich. But he would have to explain somehow why he had lived here, and in what circumstances.
He stopped at a street vendor in front of the Great Hall, where actors and bards would put on performances. "Two cattails," he declared, flipping a coin across the table. The man offered two sticky-looking pastries, cooked onto wooden sticks. He handed one to Sarai. "Good food," he told her. Anyone could have told them the same.
With their food, he wandered toward the edge of the path, where a small brook flowed within the confines of a stone passage. He knew better than to swim in that water, though. "Watch out," he told Sarai, pointing at the place. "That's the sewers." Magic kept the stench from destroying the city, and they were relatively far from the surface.
Still he held back what he wanted to say. After all, what words could he use?
He glanced sideways at his companion as he walked, fumbling absentmindedly with the clasp on his cloak. He wasn't sure what to say to her, the nearer they got to his old home. The Arts District was an excellent place to live - for the rich. But he would have to explain somehow why he had lived here, and in what circumstances.
He stopped at a street vendor in front of the Great Hall, where actors and bards would put on performances. "Two cattails," he declared, flipping a coin across the table. The man offered two sticky-looking pastries, cooked onto wooden sticks. He handed one to Sarai. "Good food," he told her. Anyone could have told them the same.
With their food, he wandered toward the edge of the path, where a small brook flowed within the confines of a stone passage. He knew better than to swim in that water, though. "Watch out," he told Sarai, pointing at the place. "That's the sewers." Magic kept the stench from destroying the city, and they were relatively far from the surface.
Still he held back what he wanted to say. After all, what words could he use?
Murtagh's smile was pained. "I grew up here." He motioned back toward the buildings, deciding to be frank. "I lived with my father in his castle until I was seven or so, but then he died. Mother followed soon behind. She sent me to live with a trusted servant, named Tornac."
He sighed, trying to release tension in his shoulders. "Tornac got none of the money my mother had intended for me. The King took it all. Tornac lived in a little house in the Inner City, which is hidden by all these big buildings around here." He didn't want Sarai to see how impoverished it had been, so he didn't offer to show her the little house they'd lived in, which had probably dilapidated far more.
Instead, he reminisced with a slight laugh, hands folded. "Those were good years," he admitted softly, glancing at Sarai. "We didn't have much, but I was free from my father for once. I could trust that man. He taught me how to fight, and I made friends with the street kids. They weren't much better off than us."
He stopped abruptly. "Sorry to drag on like this," he said. "I feel safe, talking to you, and it's not like I'm giving away the Mad King's secrets. I just feel like I can tell you anything."
He sighed, trying to release tension in his shoulders. "Tornac got none of the money my mother had intended for me. The King took it all. Tornac lived in a little house in the Inner City, which is hidden by all these big buildings around here." He didn't want Sarai to see how impoverished it had been, so he didn't offer to show her the little house they'd lived in, which had probably dilapidated far more.
Instead, he reminisced with a slight laugh, hands folded. "Those were good years," he admitted softly, glancing at Sarai. "We didn't have much, but I was free from my father for once. I could trust that man. He taught me how to fight, and I made friends with the street kids. They weren't much better off than us."
He stopped abruptly. "Sorry to drag on like this," he said. "I feel safe, talking to you, and it's not like I'm giving away the Mad King's secrets. I just feel like I can tell you anything."
- 12 • Page 1 of 1
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