The Past Is In The Past
#1
OOC: This is what happened to Fritz in Europe that made him decide to leave mercenary work and come to 'Souls.

IC: Blood. It was everywhere and Fritz Earl could smell it. All this red stuff was starting to make him wonder if he was indeed meant for mercenary work. He was only two but he was already being called the best mercenary in England. And he was getting to be fairly well-known in continental Europe as well. His size and strength definitely helped with that. Many people, both survivors of attacks as well as fellow mercenaries, had taken to calling him "Tower of Terror." And he feared that it was coming true.

Anton seemed a bit restless beneath him, almost as if he was sensing his master and friend's uneasiness. The large Shire stallion was a blessing to the large male, calm and stalwart. But he also was rather sensitive to the giant dog's moods. The stallion didn’t mind blood and loud noises, which was good while they were raiding villages.

They were currently in Germany, birthplace of his mother's ancestors. Fritz felt a connection here but what use was a connection when you were hunting for goods and people. He wasn't even sure why they were here. His fellow mercenaries wouldn’t tell him much, likely because he wouldn’t harm innocents if at all possible and they had no issue doing so. He tended to ignore their actions. But there was something off about this mission.

He caught sight of one of his company standing over a newborn pup, sword raised to kill it and Fritz saw red. He raised his sword and spurred Anton on, giving a deafening roar of anger as his sword removed the hand from the wrist. He then dismounted and went over to check on the pup. It was screaming but seemed to not be hurt. His comrade looked between the angry Great Dane and his stump of an arm and ran in terror. Fritz looked around and didn’t see anything that would make them need to stay here. "STOP!" His voice sounded a bit like a mix of a lion's roar and the voice of God.

The mercenaries stopped and the villagers ran off, scared of what would happen to them. Fritz paid no mind to them but instead stood there, glaring at his company and called his horse over to him. Anton came over and Fritz took off his massive two-handed mace, turning to face their leader. "What the bloody hell is going on, sir?" He spit the sir out and his voice was like steel, ready to cut through the tense air. He moved slowly and threateningly towards him as the leader sputtered something about not thinking he would notice. Fritz heard that and grabbed him by the throat, though barely squeezed, only to let him know that he could.

He then threw their leader towards the rest of the mercenaries and they all glanced at him nervously. "You really think I wouldn’t notice you hurting a whole town of innocent canines? Do think I'm daft?" His voice got even more dangerous and they all took a step back as his eyes hit them while glanced at them. "You know what. I'm sick of all of you and your actions. I'm leaving! You all can go burn in HELL!" He yelled that last part and swung onto the back of Anton, galloping off, back into normal life.

Over the next year, Fritz worked with his father, building boats and houses, carts and tables, toys and chairs. He found that although he enjoyed being home, England was where he had started his descent into violence and he wanted to leave that life fully behind. His father never really asked what happened in the year that his son was away, but Fritz was pretty sure that he knew but they never talked about it. But he was hardly surprised when his son talked about leaving and readily gave his blessings, providing his son with food for the journey as well as the name of a captain that owned a boat the two of them had made. With those things and the determination to leave his past behind him, Fritz left to go to America, much like the human's had done several centuries before him. He was off the a New World.


Forum Jump: