“It’s an honest challenge to recite a tale so utterly upsetting that even those who do not dwell in its path are bent by its tale. It is even greater and more unbelievable when the one that conveys the story is the very centerpiece of its conflicts. There are times when those who walk their chosen path are lead astray by misguided ambitions, greed, power or betrayal; all of which I have come across in my time. I can assure to anyone that this story is presented by my mouth not for pride or glory; but instead, quite the opposite. I impart this information because while my past may be dark; there are reason’s for it’s creation. I’m not proud of what I have done; but, things will change with time…I’m sure of it.
My story starts where most do: happily stowed away within a bubble of minimal love and caring. My father Quin Beoluve, an honorable noble, former adventurer and now a successful merchant, provided me with every material thing I could have wanted. My mother Sharawin loved me as much as any mother would her own son. We lived in Baubibel; a smaller city of a few hundred people. Across from us lived Melvar Overias a respectable mage of some sort hidden away into his tower by his greed for power. On the other side there was a prettied up park. A few trees stood scattered about; their foundation impaled by a small stream and besieged by a few acres of green grass. In the middle there stood a pearl white gazebo with a few benches. I remember, when I was young, venturing to that park countless times with my father to play games; most of the time we would wrestle each other until we were exhausted. But those times were few and far between.
I spent most of my time doing what any child did at my age. My father, a merchant in what I know now as being magical items, had very little time to spend with me. A good portion of his time was spent in the city square or on trips to other lands and cities. He would be gone for weeks at a time and my only chance to see him would be in the few days after such a trip or before he left and continued his work. My mother worked for a local school. She spent most of her mornings and afternoons teaching the local children how to speak and write. Not a simple task by any means, but nothing epic in its own right either. She only had the time of the evening to spend with me in the few hours before I went to sleep to start the day over again and would often take that special time to lecture and school me as well. While I’m grateful for that gift, in the end I wish I would have known her more as my mother then my instructor. There were those few times where I felt otherwise; but I definitely mean few.
When I was still very young I can remember several occasions where unexplainable things happened. One such occasion was on a bright warm summer day. I was walking through the yard on my way to a small pond just a mile or so outside the city; I liked to go there to fish. On my way I became disturbingly disoriented and dizzy. Before I had the chance to stop or slow down I abruptly fell over. My head was wretched with pain and I could hear voices faintly in the distance. I imagine it lasted only a few seconds; but, at the time, it seemed like an eternity. Afterwards I was unimaginably drowsy and could only remember returning home to sleep. There were other things: I would hear whispers in the middle of nowhere, see things I shouldn’t have like faces or places in plain daylight and one night I seemed to move something off my dresser from feet away! That next morning I found the shirt I had placed on the dresser the previous day, on the floor. Luckily these occurrences were rare; However, I would never forget the fact they happened.
I spent a few years trying to hide my problems. I feared the response of my family and those in my friendships would be that of disgust. I would have surely been the target for negative responses. I could not allow anyone to know.
When I had gotten old enough to finally be apart of my father’s life there were a few times I would accompany him on his trips. He taught me everything I know about buying and selling. I was rather surprised to find out a good portion of my father’s stock came from Melvar Overias. Apparently they had adventured together some time ago. Melvar had purchased his way into nobility and, according to my father, began to change. He would spend more time in his home then out; he wouldn’t even get his own supplies. He asked my father, a beginning merchant, to get supplies for him when he was on his trips. In return Melvar would cut my father a part of the profit for selling the items he creates.
Without Melvar’s items my father would buy and sell some of the items we consider luxuries. Some of them included spices; such as cinnamon, salts, sugar, cooking spices and herbs; cloths like silk and velvet and some similar clothing items too. There would be the trinkets he would carry from city to city and things he would pick up at villages as well. On top of all those items when in town he would spend some of his time forging swords to sell; something I never cared to learn.
I never cared to ask how he knew so much. I just admired him. I admired the way he talked with people, the number of people he knew, the way he would sell. It seemed he had been around the world. Everyone greeted him by name and knew what to expect. He would introduce me to everyone he knew. There were so many people and faces it’s hard to recall any of them now. Just after a couple of trips I began to consistently remember some of them; but certainly not all of them.
He was a different person on the road; someone I felt could be my father. We spent many nights talking with each other; for the first time ever I had gotten to know who my father really was. There was one night, however, when I came upon my father’s conversation with someone else. They talked about me and how I could be ‘different’ and ‘gifted’. “If there were any possibility of it chances are they would have showed themselves by now.” My father said to the man. It came to a point where I had grown comfortable enough to talk with my father about my problems. I told him of the bouts of pain and dizziness the voices, drowsiness, and the fact that one time I had moved something without touching it. His reaction was unexpected; he seemed rather happy and impressed by this. I was obviously confused.
Later that night we pulled the wagon off the road and he told me that he had something to show me. “I have something that may interest you a bit. If only I would have known this was going on before… my my I could have taught you much more! Like father like son…” he told me. He continued and told me about the similar problems he had at my age and how he tried to hide them as well. His parents eventually found out and sent him to some sort of academy. They were under the impression he may have had innate magical powers. “They were wrong!” he told me “I had something greater then that of magic. I had the ability to use my mind as a weapon!” He told me a he had been shuffled around academies for study. They would take him in so he could demonstrate, explain, show and tell. It was unlike anything they had ever seen. He made a quick name for himself and joined an adventuring group. “There,” he told me “was my chance to make a name for myself and be what I had always wanted… famous!”
Perhaps it was my silence or the expression on my face but he stopped abruptly and asked “You don’t believe do you?” I didn’t. How could I? If that were true why would he forge swords? Why would he go on these journeys and leave me behind all these years? Why? Create a sword out of nothing, horseshit!
“I’ll show you” he said
I sat there for a moment as he prepared himself. He stood tall with his hands together and hummed a monotone for a few seconds. Then there was silence. I sat there for a long time while he stood quietly. I could hear the crickets in the distance and felt the cool breeze brush across the plains. Suddenly there was a deep vibration in the air around me and I looked up again.
Pressed between my father’s hands I could see a large blue…. What the hell was that? It looked like a shimmering haze; yet it formed a flawless and translucent sword which he held proudly. I was stunned, not only by the sword but his glowing eyes too. He talked to me “See! I wouldn’t lie to my own son!” He swings it through some nearby grass cutting through it with razor-like precision. I still couldn’t believe it.
“I’ll teach you” he happily said “If what you have told me is true I believe you bear the same talents as I.” I did not object.
We spent most of the nights in between cities practicing. He would teach me how to purify and focus my mind, discipline and the art of wielding a sword and fighting. I found comfort in the fact that my mother already knew about it. “The most important thing I can teach you about your gift” my father stressed “is you must learn to control it. If you cannot learn to control it will ruin you. Be smart and wise in your actions.” It wasn’t long before I had learned the basics of using what my father referred to as my “soulknife”.
Life was easy, luxurious and boring. I hated being a merchant; there was a distinct level of irritability that came along with the job. My father was able to do it; he had done before and will probably die doing it. I couldn’t, I wanted action. I wanted to be famous too; I wanted people to know and fear me for what I could do. I had power and I wanted to use it. I remember getting severely restless.
I started, so to speak, lightly. I went to taverns and bars and showed my talents off. I would spar, as best as you can with a sword like that, with locals. I even stopped someone from getting mugged! The idiot carried several pouches and had no light upon him. As dusk turned to darkness he hurried home. Two men confronted him with weapons unsheathed but I stepped between the dispute and it simply resolved itself. The fools melted into the darkness again. Before disappearing though they promised I would pay for my interference; I thought nothing of it.
I continued this pathetic way of life only a short while; possibly a month or two before I started to get some notice. The attention was mixed. The few city militias had told me a number of times I was unwelcome with my talents in the city. People on the streets talked of me as being a vigilante and protector for those the militia could not; but, most feared me. They claimed I was a descendant from a family line that had been exposed to demon’s blood or worse – I was a demon myself. Some of these people ran or coward when I walked by. I even caught notice of melvar who claimed my immediate future would bare deep shame. This isn’t what I wanted! I was no demon! Or… am i?
I had met her on a clear spring day in the market while I shopped for some vegetables. Arin Azban, A beautiful young lady that stood as tall as I stepped next to me. I can tell she was a bit younger then me by a year or two but no more. I can remember the way my stomach sank and my hands shook with nervousness the first time I talked with her. Her long brown hair was pulled back into a braid and her eyes gleamed perfectly with the sun. Her skin bore a healthy tan only partially covered by her modest dress. Her face is smooth and sophisticated which represented perfect beauty. I finally mustered up enough guts to speak with her. We talked for a long while and I departed. We had agreed to meet again.
It wasn’t long before we had become good friends. We talked a number of times and took a few walks in the park down the road. She surprised me when we stepped into the tavern as well. She drank as much as I! Overall, we had several good times before I realized. She came to me crying one morning with her face severely bruised and cut. She claimed her father had done so. I was flabbergasted, I couldn’t believe someone would do that to their own daughter! I had her taken to the nearby temple and cleaned up. I explained to her that I could do nothing but asked about where she lived and who her father was.
She told me of Vincent, her father, and her brother Ishmael. Vincent was a rather unimpressive person. He stood over me by several inches but carried no weight behind him. My father commented a number of times on his extremely lanky figure; which is odd because Ishmael was a near opposite. His only power was delivered through his long time job as a fisherman. Spoiled and undereducated, this slut of society acted like a king over his daughter. At least that’s what she told me.
Ishmael stood a few inches shorter then I and weighed enough to graze in the fields with the rest of the cattle. I knew of this fool; the swine consistently harassed me. There were a number of times he would confront me in my own yard regarding my relationship with Arin. It took much to resist gutting him there but my father had taught me well. The greatest of my hatred for the both of these fools stemmed from Arin’s stories and the number of times she came to me crying about her father or brother. Far to often she would suddenly bare a bruise or a bloody lip out of nowhere - I couldn’t have it.
The extremely tanned figure before you stands amazingly stout with an almost stentorian voice about him. With his hair shaved nearly to his scalp it’s hard to confer its color. He walks about the deck for a second and picks up a rope, ties it off then comes back. His muscles are obviously defined; but no more then anyone else on the ship either. He stands about five and a half feet tall and wears black pants, boots and deep blue tunic. During times of action you see him wearing a chain shirt and a blue cloth around his head and face concealing all but his deep green eyes. He continues with an expression of anger on his face.
Arin and I had been together for quite some time and it was common to see us in town together. Many people recognized us and expected our relationship to continue but acted like it was something separate. They talked about us behind our backs; they talked about me. It was funny I’ve had never thought of it at the time but not once did I see her with Vincent. She didn’t even dress like a noble at times; but, I didn’t care- she was beautiful.
Again she came to me with her eye swollen shut and her mouth bleeding again.. I was going to finish this once and for all. I would confront the fool and end this now. I had enough and I planned on changing her destiny
Don’t do it.
If you’re going to try, be prepared.
Destiny has no sense humor, no fall back or soft spot; Destiny is wicked. It stands unchallenged like a limitless and unbreakable pillar that soars into the sky. Your past creates its foundation and your future – its eternal rise. It’s either you change your destiny or your destiny changes you – no other. Well, I failed and ultimately was struck with a sort of disgusting irony; my worst fears came back from the dead to haunt me forever. I was ruined.
I took Arin and marched upon this fools property. It was a large manor house fenced in by black Iron. The gate stayed swinging open giving way to a small stone walk way that cut through a field of maintained grass. On either side of the walkway there was a fountain and behind them lay the house. Four stone pillars carved in a merinthian fashion made the front of the house. Between the middle two lay two oak wood doors and several windows on either side. As I stepped into the yard I noticed a gardner tending to the gardens on the side of the house. I wasn’t stopped.
I stepped up the stairs and pounded upon the oak double doors. I pounded as hard and fervently as I could until they had finally opened. In front of me stood Vincent and behind him, peering to the side was Ishmael. I was surprised to see him elegantly dressed staring down upon me.
“What can I do for the two of…. YOU!” He stopped for a second as if in shock and stared into Arin’s face. His expression of anger and surprise threw me off to say the least.
“You bitch! How dare you step onto this property! I see you have brought him. I suppose he is here to protect you?! I suppose he is here to set things straight?! You thieving swine I’ll kill you both!”
He drew a greatsword and lunged toward me! I was in shock and didn’t know how to react. I materialized my sword in time to block a full force swing at my head and was knocked to the ground. Ishmael stepped out from behind Vincent with a smirk on his face and started saying… something; I couldn’t recognize a word of it. His hands began to glow with blue fire. I stood back up in time again to block another swing.
Arin had retreated and stood back. The Gardner behind me had run to the streets calling out cries for help.
Again he swung and missed just as something pierced my side. It burned like and hurt like nothing I had ever felt. Ishmael stood at the entry way laughing wretchedly before he continued chanting.
I finally got the nerve to fight back and Vincent was good, he continuously blocked my sword hits, parried my advances and pushed onto me with no effort. I couldn’t beat him; I had to find something more. He had left Ishmael in the open. I was able to push him back and stepped out of the brawl. He tried to catch me but I was obviously quicker. I stepped to Ishmael who tried to run and ran him through like a pig. He fell to the ground silent.
Behind me Vincent stopped cold in his tracks and stood there in a bloodied shirt. Utter terror had overcome him as he watched his only son bleed to death. He dropped his sword and ran to his son. Behind him Arin had stepped back into the action brandishing a fine looking dagger and kicked Vincent to the ground. She stood over him with the dagger to his throat.
“You idiot. You thought you could step against us? You thought you were wise enough to avoid us? You’re a fool and now you pay. You should welcome such a death as it is a vacation from what we usually offer!”
With that she plunged the dagger into Vincent’s throat abruptly and silently ending his life. I stood there in shock. What just happened?
Arin stood up after taking what she could from Vincent’s body and walked to me with a grin upon her face. “Why did you kill them?” She start’s crying and runs into the street somehow concealing the dagger from even my sight. Mere seconds after she had left my father, hearing the pleas for help, stepped into the yard with a wide-eyed expression. In his left hand he held his soulknife at ready.
He steps forward to me with a look of concern on his face. He still keeps his sword at the ready.
“What the hell did you do? WHAT did you do!?” he yelled at me
I couldn’t respond… I didn’t know what had happened. I tried to tell him. I tried to tell him I didn’t do it; but, I did. I killed Ishmael and there was nothing there to prove I didn’t kill him… Vincent. What did I do?
“You fool! You have no idea what you have just done! If you weren’t my son I’d gut you here! Leave.” He scolded me “you are no longer apart of this life. You opt to kill instead of protect?! Perhaps you are a demon! Leave now! Do not come back.”
And that was that. I never have.
I was shattered. My soul was filled with hate and contempt I couldn’t think or act normally anymore. I didn’t know where to go, had little to eat or drink and nothing to do. I slept outside in the wilderness with nothing more then a water skin and a few silver.
It was that easy apparently. Someone would destroy your life over a few coins; and it was that simple. I couldn’t believe it. Why would she do that to me? Why….
I walked one of the roads heading west for several days. I quickly began to starve simply because I had little knowledge of survival. I needed to do something.
I awoke one morning to her. She stood over me dressed in dark green pants and some leather. She wore a hood and carried several pouches. In her belt Arin had a dagger and her left hand a short sword. She just stood there silent staring into my eyes. I was startled but could do nothing.
“So here you are. A simple ruse has destroyed you, crippled your ego, corrupted your reputation, removed you from those you love and made you poor.”
She pointed the sword close to my face
“ Funny isn’t it? Funny how easy it is to do such a thing! You know who you killed right? You killed Vincent – a noble, seas merchant and former owner of the Maiden’s hand – a large trading ship. Lucky for us we needed him dead – thank you.”
She stepped back and sheathed her sword. She sat down and opened her water skin took a drink and offered it to me.
“You look like
. I’ll bet you’re wondering what you’re going to do next. Aren’t you?”
I stayed silent
“Well, we have a proposition for you. We can get you some good money but you’re going to have to do work for us. to convey the sense of free will… you will work for us or you will no longer exist. That simple.”
She grinned fit for a Demoness. She looked so much different it was disturbing. I didn’t know her and I didn’t care too. I continued to listen.
“There is another in Baubibel that has interfered with us. He goes by the name of Melvar overias. I’m sure you know him, your father works with him on occasion… correct?”
I nodded.
“Good! I doubt you have the power to kill the fool. He is a well known mage in these parts but I have something you may be able to do. Once a week he leaves his home under the cover of darkness. For what purposes I don’t care. Inside his home he has a number of laboratories where he creates his items and experiments with his foolish magic. He also has an apprentice by the name of Jeremiah. Kill this fool and take the orb he keeps in his chamber. It is the size of my fist, solid black and weighs no more then you’re head. If you succeeded we will reward you well. If not, the situation will resolve itself I’m sure. You have no less then twenty minutes before the fool mage returns. Here.”
She tosses me her backpack and a small pouch
“A gift… let’s just say it’s my personal apology for your situation. He will be leaving his home again tomorrow night”
She laughed and walked off. I watched her for a moment and she cut off into the nearby forest and disappeared. Inside the backpack there was a bit of food and some clothing that fit surprisingly well; A black tunic and pants covered by a hooded robe. The pouch contained a few gold coins. I ate quickly, got dressed and marched back toward the city. I had to push myself to get there before the next night but I did make it.
The mage’s home was rather large. It was a simple design an almost perfect rectangle only disturbed by a cobblestone porch in back and a fireplace on one side. It was probably no later then midnight. I had been there for several hours hiding just inside the walls. I continued to wonder if this was some ruse again but had no choice. I waited.
Much later the door opened slowly. It spilled a minimal amount of light and slowly shut behind a cloaked figure. He walked just past me out into the street and faded into the darkness. After it was clear I made my way to the front door. It was locked!
I scrambled around looking for another entrance. I found a basement door on one side of the house which too appeared to be locked. This one, however, I could break.
After removing the lock I opened the doors and stepped inside. I had to fumble around in the darkness until I found another door. I had finally gotten inside. The inside of the house was impressively clean. There were lights that hung from the ceiling, a smooth marble floor and no dust anywhere – not what expected I suppose. I quietly made my way around the house and found nothing more then The kitchen, a study, dining room, some sort of art display, a laboratory of some sort and a storage room. Next, I moved upstairs where I found several locked doors; one room that looked like another laboratory of some sort and another with symbols on the floor. There was also another storage room packed full of junk. I was running out of time!
I made a quick guess at the door and kicked several times. Apparently Jeremiah had been heard me and prepared a few things before I got there. He stood there rather surprised and I had just walked into a small trap. I tried not to think and just act instead. He glowed blue and there was a small dog on the floor beside him. As I stepped into the room something hit me – and hard. I stepped back to defend myself against the dog.
“Who are you?!” He demanded
I just ignored him as I dealt with the dog. It was fast but not fast enough; I dispatched the creature which simply faded away without a trace; but, not before I was struck again. I suddenly felt extremely drowsy much like I did after my headaches. Luckily I was able to shake it off and advance on Jeremiah. He panicked, drew a dagger out and swung It wildly at me. I parried his weak attacks and finished him. I searched a moment for this orb only to find it in a pouch on his person and then left.
I knew not of where I was supposed to go so I left town again and quickly. I camped out in some trees outside of town and waited. It wasn’t until dusk of the next day I had gotten any response. But, sure enough, she came.
“Good job. The orb?”
I pulled the box out of my pack and handed it to her.
“Great. Well it seems you’ve made a small name for yourself already. People know it’s you; apparently someone saw the glow of your sword and heard some screaming in the window. They’re talking about hunting you down now. Better go. Oh, and here, we’ll be in touch.”
She dropped another pouch this time filled with a healthy count of gold and silver. I was ashamed by actions but I couldn’t turn back now. I packed up and moved west. It was a week of traveling before I heard from her again. This time I awoke and found a note in my pouch. It read:
“Rise and shine cutie,
I have need of you once more. There is a wagon traveling behind you a few days back. It carries a number of items valuable to us. This time there is no need to kill anyone – unless you feel the need or even urge too. There is only one guard, I’m sure you can handle him if it came down to it. If you succeed, drive the wagon into the forest. We’ll be by to pick it up afterwards. Use the potion.
Cheers,
Arin”
What else could I do? I had no idea what, or who, I was dealing with. I could avoid this job but at what cost? The bitch could just leave notes and I didn’t notice. I had to continue until it stopped or I found my way out. I peered into the pouch and noticed some sort of potion.
I did what I had to. I waited for the wagon while I hid in some nearby trees. Just before the wagon had passed I drank the potion. I didn’t notice any change but walked to the road and stood tall. The wagon approached. They did not stop or even respond! They just rode up to me and, unless I would have stepped out of the way, would have been run over! I must have been invisible! My father had sold a couple of these to someone. I used this to my advantage and stepped behind the guard as he walked. Instead of dealing with the possibility of an engagement I got the jump on him. I spawned my sword and slew him there – before he could react. The wagon driver stopped in terror and jumped down. He drew his sword.
“Oh My! Ddon’t kill mmme please! I’ve got a sword! I’ll use it!” he pleaded
“Leave now, your wagon is ours.” I replied
“Bbut…”
“Now!” I shouted
With that the man ran west down the road and didn’t stop anywhere as long as I could see him.
I moved the wagon off the road and buried the guard. Again I waited and again she came.
“You have proven to be quite useful and I thank you. Here”
She tossed a pouch to me again
“you have deserved it. For now we will leave you be. You’re welcome to stay at any of our safe houses if need be. Here, wear this “
she handed a golden ring with a daggers emblem.
“Keep in mind this entitles you to nothing more then protection. I’ve made sure everyone knows your name and description. Do not screw around. We will talk again some day.”
With that I took myself another week’s journey to a city called hochoch or something like that. I stayed only a day there at a nice inn and got some much needed rest and rejuvenation. I also purchased myself a horse – I’m an impatient person. I came to a large port city by the name of Stormhaven.
It was several days before our ship came into town. It was badly damaged on one side. Apparently something had either hit it or they came from an extremely rough storm. At the time I couldn’t care any less. I stayed at this luxurious tavern called they galley. Ironic isn’t it?
Several people from this ship had come into the tavern and sat down to have drinks. Already dead to myself and the world around me I decided to sit at their table and bought them some drinks. Of course they liked that; who wouldn’t? We talked for some time before they asked what I do. Funny, it took no thought before I explained the weird events that had just taken place, where I came from and my abilities.
They were intrigued, to say the least, and asked me to show them. I certainly didn’t feel right there so we went back to the, Sea Lion, their ship where I could demonstrate. Although intrigued they were also drunk. I departed not expecting to see them again. They spent several days in port before preparing to leave; It was just before they left when they asked if I wanted to join them as a guard on ship. I explained I had never been onboard such a vessel and had no experience. But, they obviously felt my capabilities outweighed that fact at the time. Perhaps it was my connections too… who knows.
That was six years ago and yep, I’m still ‘bord this ship. Much has changed and much has yet to come. I just wanted to tell ya my story before I couldn’t tell it no more. Thanks for listening….
My story starts where most do: happily stowed away within a bubble of minimal love and caring. My father Quin Beoluve, an honorable noble, former adventurer and now a successful merchant, provided me with every material thing I could have wanted. My mother Sharawin loved me as much as any mother would her own son. We lived in Baubibel; a smaller city of a few hundred people. Across from us lived Melvar Overias a respectable mage of some sort hidden away into his tower by his greed for power. On the other side there was a prettied up park. A few trees stood scattered about; their foundation impaled by a small stream and besieged by a few acres of green grass. In the middle there stood a pearl white gazebo with a few benches. I remember, when I was young, venturing to that park countless times with my father to play games; most of the time we would wrestle each other until we were exhausted. But those times were few and far between.
I spent most of my time doing what any child did at my age. My father, a merchant in what I know now as being magical items, had very little time to spend with me. A good portion of his time was spent in the city square or on trips to other lands and cities. He would be gone for weeks at a time and my only chance to see him would be in the few days after such a trip or before he left and continued his work. My mother worked for a local school. She spent most of her mornings and afternoons teaching the local children how to speak and write. Not a simple task by any means, but nothing epic in its own right either. She only had the time of the evening to spend with me in the few hours before I went to sleep to start the day over again and would often take that special time to lecture and school me as well. While I’m grateful for that gift, in the end I wish I would have known her more as my mother then my instructor. There were those few times where I felt otherwise; but I definitely mean few.
When I was still very young I can remember several occasions where unexplainable things happened. One such occasion was on a bright warm summer day. I was walking through the yard on my way to a small pond just a mile or so outside the city; I liked to go there to fish. On my way I became disturbingly disoriented and dizzy. Before I had the chance to stop or slow down I abruptly fell over. My head was wretched with pain and I could hear voices faintly in the distance. I imagine it lasted only a few seconds; but, at the time, it seemed like an eternity. Afterwards I was unimaginably drowsy and could only remember returning home to sleep. There were other things: I would hear whispers in the middle of nowhere, see things I shouldn’t have like faces or places in plain daylight and one night I seemed to move something off my dresser from feet away! That next morning I found the shirt I had placed on the dresser the previous day, on the floor. Luckily these occurrences were rare; However, I would never forget the fact they happened.
I spent a few years trying to hide my problems. I feared the response of my family and those in my friendships would be that of disgust. I would have surely been the target for negative responses. I could not allow anyone to know.
When I had gotten old enough to finally be apart of my father’s life there were a few times I would accompany him on his trips. He taught me everything I know about buying and selling. I was rather surprised to find out a good portion of my father’s stock came from Melvar Overias. Apparently they had adventured together some time ago. Melvar had purchased his way into nobility and, according to my father, began to change. He would spend more time in his home then out; he wouldn’t even get his own supplies. He asked my father, a beginning merchant, to get supplies for him when he was on his trips. In return Melvar would cut my father a part of the profit for selling the items he creates.
Without Melvar’s items my father would buy and sell some of the items we consider luxuries. Some of them included spices; such as cinnamon, salts, sugar, cooking spices and herbs; cloths like silk and velvet and some similar clothing items too. There would be the trinkets he would carry from city to city and things he would pick up at villages as well. On top of all those items when in town he would spend some of his time forging swords to sell; something I never cared to learn.
I never cared to ask how he knew so much. I just admired him. I admired the way he talked with people, the number of people he knew, the way he would sell. It seemed he had been around the world. Everyone greeted him by name and knew what to expect. He would introduce me to everyone he knew. There were so many people and faces it’s hard to recall any of them now. Just after a couple of trips I began to consistently remember some of them; but certainly not all of them.
He was a different person on the road; someone I felt could be my father. We spent many nights talking with each other; for the first time ever I had gotten to know who my father really was. There was one night, however, when I came upon my father’s conversation with someone else. They talked about me and how I could be ‘different’ and ‘gifted’. “If there were any possibility of it chances are they would have showed themselves by now.” My father said to the man. It came to a point where I had grown comfortable enough to talk with my father about my problems. I told him of the bouts of pain and dizziness the voices, drowsiness, and the fact that one time I had moved something without touching it. His reaction was unexpected; he seemed rather happy and impressed by this. I was obviously confused.
Later that night we pulled the wagon off the road and he told me that he had something to show me. “I have something that may interest you a bit. If only I would have known this was going on before… my my I could have taught you much more! Like father like son…” he told me. He continued and told me about the similar problems he had at my age and how he tried to hide them as well. His parents eventually found out and sent him to some sort of academy. They were under the impression he may have had innate magical powers. “They were wrong!” he told me “I had something greater then that of magic. I had the ability to use my mind as a weapon!” He told me a he had been shuffled around academies for study. They would take him in so he could demonstrate, explain, show and tell. It was unlike anything they had ever seen. He made a quick name for himself and joined an adventuring group. “There,” he told me “was my chance to make a name for myself and be what I had always wanted… famous!”
Perhaps it was my silence or the expression on my face but he stopped abruptly and asked “You don’t believe do you?” I didn’t. How could I? If that were true why would he forge swords? Why would he go on these journeys and leave me behind all these years? Why? Create a sword out of nothing, horseshit!
“I’ll show you” he said
I sat there for a moment as he prepared himself. He stood tall with his hands together and hummed a monotone for a few seconds. Then there was silence. I sat there for a long time while he stood quietly. I could hear the crickets in the distance and felt the cool breeze brush across the plains. Suddenly there was a deep vibration in the air around me and I looked up again.
Pressed between my father’s hands I could see a large blue…. What the hell was that? It looked like a shimmering haze; yet it formed a flawless and translucent sword which he held proudly. I was stunned, not only by the sword but his glowing eyes too. He talked to me “See! I wouldn’t lie to my own son!” He swings it through some nearby grass cutting through it with razor-like precision. I still couldn’t believe it.
“I’ll teach you” he happily said “If what you have told me is true I believe you bear the same talents as I.” I did not object.
We spent most of the nights in between cities practicing. He would teach me how to purify and focus my mind, discipline and the art of wielding a sword and fighting. I found comfort in the fact that my mother already knew about it. “The most important thing I can teach you about your gift” my father stressed “is you must learn to control it. If you cannot learn to control it will ruin you. Be smart and wise in your actions.” It wasn’t long before I had learned the basics of using what my father referred to as my “soulknife”.
Life was easy, luxurious and boring. I hated being a merchant; there was a distinct level of irritability that came along with the job. My father was able to do it; he had done before and will probably die doing it. I couldn’t, I wanted action. I wanted to be famous too; I wanted people to know and fear me for what I could do. I had power and I wanted to use it. I remember getting severely restless.
I started, so to speak, lightly. I went to taverns and bars and showed my talents off. I would spar, as best as you can with a sword like that, with locals. I even stopped someone from getting mugged! The idiot carried several pouches and had no light upon him. As dusk turned to darkness he hurried home. Two men confronted him with weapons unsheathed but I stepped between the dispute and it simply resolved itself. The fools melted into the darkness again. Before disappearing though they promised I would pay for my interference; I thought nothing of it.
I continued this pathetic way of life only a short while; possibly a month or two before I started to get some notice. The attention was mixed. The few city militias had told me a number of times I was unwelcome with my talents in the city. People on the streets talked of me as being a vigilante and protector for those the militia could not; but, most feared me. They claimed I was a descendant from a family line that had been exposed to demon’s blood or worse – I was a demon myself. Some of these people ran or coward when I walked by. I even caught notice of melvar who claimed my immediate future would bare deep shame. This isn’t what I wanted! I was no demon! Or… am i?
I had met her on a clear spring day in the market while I shopped for some vegetables. Arin Azban, A beautiful young lady that stood as tall as I stepped next to me. I can tell she was a bit younger then me by a year or two but no more. I can remember the way my stomach sank and my hands shook with nervousness the first time I talked with her. Her long brown hair was pulled back into a braid and her eyes gleamed perfectly with the sun. Her skin bore a healthy tan only partially covered by her modest dress. Her face is smooth and sophisticated which represented perfect beauty. I finally mustered up enough guts to speak with her. We talked for a long while and I departed. We had agreed to meet again.
It wasn’t long before we had become good friends. We talked a number of times and took a few walks in the park down the road. She surprised me when we stepped into the tavern as well. She drank as much as I! Overall, we had several good times before I realized. She came to me crying one morning with her face severely bruised and cut. She claimed her father had done so. I was flabbergasted, I couldn’t believe someone would do that to their own daughter! I had her taken to the nearby temple and cleaned up. I explained to her that I could do nothing but asked about where she lived and who her father was.
She told me of Vincent, her father, and her brother Ishmael. Vincent was a rather unimpressive person. He stood over me by several inches but carried no weight behind him. My father commented a number of times on his extremely lanky figure; which is odd because Ishmael was a near opposite. His only power was delivered through his long time job as a fisherman. Spoiled and undereducated, this slut of society acted like a king over his daughter. At least that’s what she told me.
Ishmael stood a few inches shorter then I and weighed enough to graze in the fields with the rest of the cattle. I knew of this fool; the swine consistently harassed me. There were a number of times he would confront me in my own yard regarding my relationship with Arin. It took much to resist gutting him there but my father had taught me well. The greatest of my hatred for the both of these fools stemmed from Arin’s stories and the number of times she came to me crying about her father or brother. Far to often she would suddenly bare a bruise or a bloody lip out of nowhere - I couldn’t have it.
The extremely tanned figure before you stands amazingly stout with an almost stentorian voice about him. With his hair shaved nearly to his scalp it’s hard to confer its color. He walks about the deck for a second and picks up a rope, ties it off then comes back. His muscles are obviously defined; but no more then anyone else on the ship either. He stands about five and a half feet tall and wears black pants, boots and deep blue tunic. During times of action you see him wearing a chain shirt and a blue cloth around his head and face concealing all but his deep green eyes. He continues with an expression of anger on his face.
Arin and I had been together for quite some time and it was common to see us in town together. Many people recognized us and expected our relationship to continue but acted like it was something separate. They talked about us behind our backs; they talked about me. It was funny I’ve had never thought of it at the time but not once did I see her with Vincent. She didn’t even dress like a noble at times; but, I didn’t care- she was beautiful.
Again she came to me with her eye swollen shut and her mouth bleeding again.. I was going to finish this once and for all. I would confront the fool and end this now. I had enough and I planned on changing her destiny
Don’t do it.
If you’re going to try, be prepared.
Destiny has no sense humor, no fall back or soft spot; Destiny is wicked. It stands unchallenged like a limitless and unbreakable pillar that soars into the sky. Your past creates its foundation and your future – its eternal rise. It’s either you change your destiny or your destiny changes you – no other. Well, I failed and ultimately was struck with a sort of disgusting irony; my worst fears came back from the dead to haunt me forever. I was ruined.
I took Arin and marched upon this fools property. It was a large manor house fenced in by black Iron. The gate stayed swinging open giving way to a small stone walk way that cut through a field of maintained grass. On either side of the walkway there was a fountain and behind them lay the house. Four stone pillars carved in a merinthian fashion made the front of the house. Between the middle two lay two oak wood doors and several windows on either side. As I stepped into the yard I noticed a gardner tending to the gardens on the side of the house. I wasn’t stopped.
I stepped up the stairs and pounded upon the oak double doors. I pounded as hard and fervently as I could until they had finally opened. In front of me stood Vincent and behind him, peering to the side was Ishmael. I was surprised to see him elegantly dressed staring down upon me.
“What can I do for the two of…. YOU!” He stopped for a second as if in shock and stared into Arin’s face. His expression of anger and surprise threw me off to say the least.
“You bitch! How dare you step onto this property! I see you have brought him. I suppose he is here to protect you?! I suppose he is here to set things straight?! You thieving swine I’ll kill you both!”
He drew a greatsword and lunged toward me! I was in shock and didn’t know how to react. I materialized my sword in time to block a full force swing at my head and was knocked to the ground. Ishmael stepped out from behind Vincent with a smirk on his face and started saying… something; I couldn’t recognize a word of it. His hands began to glow with blue fire. I stood back up in time again to block another swing.
Arin had retreated and stood back. The Gardner behind me had run to the streets calling out cries for help.
Again he swung and missed just as something pierced my side. It burned like and hurt like nothing I had ever felt. Ishmael stood at the entry way laughing wretchedly before he continued chanting.
I finally got the nerve to fight back and Vincent was good, he continuously blocked my sword hits, parried my advances and pushed onto me with no effort. I couldn’t beat him; I had to find something more. He had left Ishmael in the open. I was able to push him back and stepped out of the brawl. He tried to catch me but I was obviously quicker. I stepped to Ishmael who tried to run and ran him through like a pig. He fell to the ground silent.
Behind me Vincent stopped cold in his tracks and stood there in a bloodied shirt. Utter terror had overcome him as he watched his only son bleed to death. He dropped his sword and ran to his son. Behind him Arin had stepped back into the action brandishing a fine looking dagger and kicked Vincent to the ground. She stood over him with the dagger to his throat.
“You idiot. You thought you could step against us? You thought you were wise enough to avoid us? You’re a fool and now you pay. You should welcome such a death as it is a vacation from what we usually offer!”
With that she plunged the dagger into Vincent’s throat abruptly and silently ending his life. I stood there in shock. What just happened?
Arin stood up after taking what she could from Vincent’s body and walked to me with a grin upon her face. “Why did you kill them?” She start’s crying and runs into the street somehow concealing the dagger from even my sight. Mere seconds after she had left my father, hearing the pleas for help, stepped into the yard with a wide-eyed expression. In his left hand he held his soulknife at ready.
He steps forward to me with a look of concern on his face. He still keeps his sword at the ready.
“What the hell did you do? WHAT did you do!?” he yelled at me
I couldn’t respond… I didn’t know what had happened. I tried to tell him. I tried to tell him I didn’t do it; but, I did. I killed Ishmael and there was nothing there to prove I didn’t kill him… Vincent. What did I do?
“You fool! You have no idea what you have just done! If you weren’t my son I’d gut you here! Leave.” He scolded me “you are no longer apart of this life. You opt to kill instead of protect?! Perhaps you are a demon! Leave now! Do not come back.”
And that was that. I never have.
I was shattered. My soul was filled with hate and contempt I couldn’t think or act normally anymore. I didn’t know where to go, had little to eat or drink and nothing to do. I slept outside in the wilderness with nothing more then a water skin and a few silver.
It was that easy apparently. Someone would destroy your life over a few coins; and it was that simple. I couldn’t believe it. Why would she do that to me? Why….
I walked one of the roads heading west for several days. I quickly began to starve simply because I had little knowledge of survival. I needed to do something.
I awoke one morning to her. She stood over me dressed in dark green pants and some leather. She wore a hood and carried several pouches. In her belt Arin had a dagger and her left hand a short sword. She just stood there silent staring into my eyes. I was startled but could do nothing.
“So here you are. A simple ruse has destroyed you, crippled your ego, corrupted your reputation, removed you from those you love and made you poor.”
She pointed the sword close to my face
“ Funny isn’t it? Funny how easy it is to do such a thing! You know who you killed right? You killed Vincent – a noble, seas merchant and former owner of the Maiden’s hand – a large trading ship. Lucky for us we needed him dead – thank you.”
She stepped back and sheathed her sword. She sat down and opened her water skin took a drink and offered it to me.
“You look like
. I’ll bet you’re wondering what you’re going to do next. Aren’t you?”I stayed silent
“Well, we have a proposition for you. We can get you some good money but you’re going to have to do work for us. to convey the sense of free will… you will work for us or you will no longer exist. That simple.”
She grinned fit for a Demoness. She looked so much different it was disturbing. I didn’t know her and I didn’t care too. I continued to listen.
“There is another in Baubibel that has interfered with us. He goes by the name of Melvar overias. I’m sure you know him, your father works with him on occasion… correct?”
I nodded.
“Good! I doubt you have the power to kill the fool. He is a well known mage in these parts but I have something you may be able to do. Once a week he leaves his home under the cover of darkness. For what purposes I don’t care. Inside his home he has a number of laboratories where he creates his items and experiments with his foolish magic. He also has an apprentice by the name of Jeremiah. Kill this fool and take the orb he keeps in his chamber. It is the size of my fist, solid black and weighs no more then you’re head. If you succeeded we will reward you well. If not, the situation will resolve itself I’m sure. You have no less then twenty minutes before the fool mage returns. Here.”
She tosses me her backpack and a small pouch
“A gift… let’s just say it’s my personal apology for your situation. He will be leaving his home again tomorrow night”
She laughed and walked off. I watched her for a moment and she cut off into the nearby forest and disappeared. Inside the backpack there was a bit of food and some clothing that fit surprisingly well; A black tunic and pants covered by a hooded robe. The pouch contained a few gold coins. I ate quickly, got dressed and marched back toward the city. I had to push myself to get there before the next night but I did make it.
The mage’s home was rather large. It was a simple design an almost perfect rectangle only disturbed by a cobblestone porch in back and a fireplace on one side. It was probably no later then midnight. I had been there for several hours hiding just inside the walls. I continued to wonder if this was some ruse again but had no choice. I waited.
Much later the door opened slowly. It spilled a minimal amount of light and slowly shut behind a cloaked figure. He walked just past me out into the street and faded into the darkness. After it was clear I made my way to the front door. It was locked!
I scrambled around looking for another entrance. I found a basement door on one side of the house which too appeared to be locked. This one, however, I could break.
After removing the lock I opened the doors and stepped inside. I had to fumble around in the darkness until I found another door. I had finally gotten inside. The inside of the house was impressively clean. There were lights that hung from the ceiling, a smooth marble floor and no dust anywhere – not what expected I suppose. I quietly made my way around the house and found nothing more then The kitchen, a study, dining room, some sort of art display, a laboratory of some sort and a storage room. Next, I moved upstairs where I found several locked doors; one room that looked like another laboratory of some sort and another with symbols on the floor. There was also another storage room packed full of junk. I was running out of time!
I made a quick guess at the door and kicked several times. Apparently Jeremiah had been heard me and prepared a few things before I got there. He stood there rather surprised and I had just walked into a small trap. I tried not to think and just act instead. He glowed blue and there was a small dog on the floor beside him. As I stepped into the room something hit me – and hard. I stepped back to defend myself against the dog.
“Who are you?!” He demanded
I just ignored him as I dealt with the dog. It was fast but not fast enough; I dispatched the creature which simply faded away without a trace; but, not before I was struck again. I suddenly felt extremely drowsy much like I did after my headaches. Luckily I was able to shake it off and advance on Jeremiah. He panicked, drew a dagger out and swung It wildly at me. I parried his weak attacks and finished him. I searched a moment for this orb only to find it in a pouch on his person and then left.
I knew not of where I was supposed to go so I left town again and quickly. I camped out in some trees outside of town and waited. It wasn’t until dusk of the next day I had gotten any response. But, sure enough, she came.
“Good job. The orb?”
I pulled the box out of my pack and handed it to her.
“Great. Well it seems you’ve made a small name for yourself already. People know it’s you; apparently someone saw the glow of your sword and heard some screaming in the window. They’re talking about hunting you down now. Better go. Oh, and here, we’ll be in touch.”
She dropped another pouch this time filled with a healthy count of gold and silver. I was ashamed by actions but I couldn’t turn back now. I packed up and moved west. It was a week of traveling before I heard from her again. This time I awoke and found a note in my pouch. It read:
“Rise and shine cutie,
I have need of you once more. There is a wagon traveling behind you a few days back. It carries a number of items valuable to us. This time there is no need to kill anyone – unless you feel the need or even urge too. There is only one guard, I’m sure you can handle him if it came down to it. If you succeed, drive the wagon into the forest. We’ll be by to pick it up afterwards. Use the potion.
Cheers,
Arin”
What else could I do? I had no idea what, or who, I was dealing with. I could avoid this job but at what cost? The bitch could just leave notes and I didn’t notice. I had to continue until it stopped or I found my way out. I peered into the pouch and noticed some sort of potion.
I did what I had to. I waited for the wagon while I hid in some nearby trees. Just before the wagon had passed I drank the potion. I didn’t notice any change but walked to the road and stood tall. The wagon approached. They did not stop or even respond! They just rode up to me and, unless I would have stepped out of the way, would have been run over! I must have been invisible! My father had sold a couple of these to someone. I used this to my advantage and stepped behind the guard as he walked. Instead of dealing with the possibility of an engagement I got the jump on him. I spawned my sword and slew him there – before he could react. The wagon driver stopped in terror and jumped down. He drew his sword.
“Oh My! Ddon’t kill mmme please! I’ve got a sword! I’ll use it!” he pleaded
“Leave now, your wagon is ours.” I replied
“Bbut…”
“Now!” I shouted
With that the man ran west down the road and didn’t stop anywhere as long as I could see him.
I moved the wagon off the road and buried the guard. Again I waited and again she came.
“You have proven to be quite useful and I thank you. Here”
She tossed a pouch to me again
“you have deserved it. For now we will leave you be. You’re welcome to stay at any of our safe houses if need be. Here, wear this “
she handed a golden ring with a daggers emblem.
“Keep in mind this entitles you to nothing more then protection. I’ve made sure everyone knows your name and description. Do not screw around. We will talk again some day.”
With that I took myself another week’s journey to a city called hochoch or something like that. I stayed only a day there at a nice inn and got some much needed rest and rejuvenation. I also purchased myself a horse – I’m an impatient person. I came to a large port city by the name of Stormhaven.
It was several days before our ship came into town. It was badly damaged on one side. Apparently something had either hit it or they came from an extremely rough storm. At the time I couldn’t care any less. I stayed at this luxurious tavern called they galley. Ironic isn’t it?
Several people from this ship had come into the tavern and sat down to have drinks. Already dead to myself and the world around me I decided to sit at their table and bought them some drinks. Of course they liked that; who wouldn’t? We talked for some time before they asked what I do. Funny, it took no thought before I explained the weird events that had just taken place, where I came from and my abilities.
They were intrigued, to say the least, and asked me to show them. I certainly didn’t feel right there so we went back to the, Sea Lion, their ship where I could demonstrate. Although intrigued they were also drunk. I departed not expecting to see them again. They spent several days in port before preparing to leave; It was just before they left when they asked if I wanted to join them as a guard on ship. I explained I had never been onboard such a vessel and had no experience. But, they obviously felt my capabilities outweighed that fact at the time. Perhaps it was my connections too… who knows.
That was six years ago and yep, I’m still ‘bord this ship. Much has changed and much has yet to come. I just wanted to tell ya my story before I couldn’t tell it no more. Thanks for listening….
