[The Tale of Bayne Tarrok brought to light. Bear in mind that this tale is well over three years old, and that it will see significant revision before it is completed. Read on biggrin ]
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It's been almost a year...
Yet I still remember every moment of that fateful day.
If my kingdom still survives...
Please, my Gods, let it stand against her enemies....
- Excerpt from Bayne Tarrok's diary
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It was a dark night, a night which heralded an even darker dawn
Bayne stood silently on a balcony of his castle, overlooking the sleeping green fields and pastoral lands of his home, and his kingdom. His eyes flitted to every house, every square, and every sleepless friend he knew was also awake that night. He knew the townspeople personally, each one of them. He had blessed their newborns, had dined with them every day and every festival of the year. Each one of them was a human, and an equal in his mind, not a peasant.
His browned hand, smooth with youth, but reflecting a rigid toughness beyond its years, rose up to grip a tiny blue round stone attached to a delicate chain of silver around his neck. It was his only memento of his parents, and it was what reminded him of his purpose in life, and the cause that bid him rise from slumber each morning. To save those that had been damned to suffer under aristocracy, and to free those that had been chained in poverty. His people loved him, and when he walked amongst them, they revered him as a God, kissing the ground before him, and touching their foreheads to the ground behind him. It made him uneasy, the amount of faith they had put in him. He was not a God. He was only human.
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In the folds of time
Let memories spring forth
From the font of recollection
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“Open your eyes my love.” said a peaceful yet powerful voice.
“He… he’s beautiful. Our own beautiful child…” replied a voice weak from exhaustion and pain.
“The Gods have truly blessed our life. We are eternally in their debt.”
“What…” the voice stops and takes a long quivering breath then grows calmer, “With what name shall our babe be gifted…?”
“…Bayne”
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And now let time slip forward
To that day, securing a hero’s destiny
Eight years from the present
Where now the ropes of fate lay furled
On the night the soul of mercy
A virtuous and brave King was born
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The fall of a child. The rise of a King
His father was, no, had been, a farmer, and his mother, a loving wife and healer. They had ever made any error in their life as far as he knew. His father farmer his crops for the people, and instead of shipping them to the market for gold and profit, he would set up his wagon every morning at the town square, with a humble yet proud smile, and hand out his crops free to all, tipping his stray hat and bowing with rare respect to those he served. His mother was also a woman of charity. She ran the herbal shop just outside of town, where she procured cures and salves to all who came to her. Ironically, as a family of charity, they lived off of charity. For their services, many people paid them back with equal grace. The town’s carpenter, for curing his youngest child when his family could not afford healing from others, crafted the few peices of furiture Bayne’s family had. The hand of his father, and those of his friends had built Bayne’s family’s house. Bayne’s life was one of happiness and love, and even though they lived in a bleak time where wealth ruled over he people, his family and their community looked with hope toward the rising sun.
The first day of the new season, Bayne and his father went out into the fields to till the ground. Bayne enjoyed the time he had with his father, and they worked side by side until the sun grew high. At noon, the two sat down and ate their mid-day meal, Bayne sharing stories of his twelve year old antics, while his father laughed and grinned with pride for his son’s “great feats”. Bayne rose immediately after he finished his meal, eager to continue with the day’s work. His father was not quite finished (as he lacked the voracious hunger of a growing man), and told his son he would be there as soon as he finished. Bayne resumed his work where he left off, and mere minutes afterwards he felt his hoe strike against something in the ground. Thinking it to be a rock, Bayne wished to please his father and remove it before he returned from his meal. As he worked around it, a strange curiosity swept over him, as the objects shape was not that of a rock, and he still could not tell what it was. Finally his inquisitive nature seized a hold, and he got down on his knees, sweeping large piles of dirt away from above the object. His heart raced with excitement as his finger tips swept across the objects surface, which he could now see was definitely wood. Not only that, but it was a large crate buried beneath their fields! Bayne’s heart leapt, and he immediately thought of the stories people had told of buried treasure and bandits, vast fortunes stored beneath the earth.
“Father, come quick! I’ve found something amazing!” He shouted, and his father came almost immediately, as he had already been rising to return to work.
“Well my son, what is it that you have found?” His father asked, staring with quite some surprise at the large lid in the ground before him. “Gods, that is a massive box!”
Bayne quickly explained his guess at what the contents of it were, and his father laughed at his son’s romantic notion. “Of course, it could not be that! But let’s have a look anyway. Perhaps there is treasure of a different manner within it.” His father knelt beside him, and using their hoes to lever the lid, the pried the large top off of the storage article. Bayne’s eye’s reflected with joy the contents within, and his father took in a sharp breath of shock. “I’ll never again doubt your wisdom, my son…” Bayne’s father whispered in disbelief at what lay at his feet.
Within the compartment was exactly as Bayne had guessed. It was treasure, piles upon piles of treasure! Gold, silver, rubies, diamonds, emeralds, sapphires, the contents of the crate was easily the ransom of a hundred kings! Anything of wealth a king could ever desire was in that chest, the precious metals formed into gem-encrusted crowns, goblets, bracelets and necklaces. Pure carved emerald brooches glittered lustrously in the brilliant noon sun, and the gold and silver cast radiant beams of light across their bodies. Bayne’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. It would be just like those stories! He would become wealthy beyond his wildest dreams, have his own castle, and become a king! Even the mightiest monarchs would bow to his grace and wealth, ad he would have an army too! Thousands of Arvahel’s best soldiers, so that his name would be feared and known! He would take on the world and succeed!
Bayne’s father looked at his son with great concern. The greed in Bayne’s eyes was just as brilliant as the glitter of the gold. “Father, lets take this back home, so that we can count the worth of this treasure!” His hands were clenching instinctually, hardly restrained from thrust his arms into his bastion of wealth. His father looked sadly at his son, and quietly set to shutting the lid. “You’re right, son. We should get home. After all, there is no need to finish this work at the moment. We have all the crop we need.”’ Bayne nodded his head vigorously, and stood to fetch the remaining tools and toss them in the wagon. Then he stopped, and turned on his father with suspicion. “What do you mean, we have all the crop we need?”
His father looked at him with a sad smile, and calmly said, “The townspeople will be overjoyed. The Gods have truly blessed us with this gift, and it is our duty to give the people this wealth. With it, there can be hope, and we will all be able to live prosperously.” Bayne looked at his father wildly. He was giving the treasure away? All of it? He couldn’t do it, it was his! He found it, and he would keep it! “What?! No! This treasure is ours, we found it! No, it’s MINE! We must keep it, we will become richer than any man alive! We will no longer be cold when we sleep, or have to live of ch-“ His father’s glare silenced him immediately.
“Wealth in such an amount is what caused our people’s position in the first place. Arthox is a King who cares only for himself! He hordes our brother’s and sister’s meager coffers, so that his own can grow even larger! Families have starved because of his thirst for wealth. Our sister’s have been forced to sell their bodies to lustful men so that they can feed their children! Our brother’s have had to put themselves in chains so that they can buy even one loaf of bread! This treasure can bring all of us hope, or one of us destruction. Bayne, if you take this only for yourself, you destroy another chance to save our brothers and sisters, and you become a man like Arthox, an evil, greedy, hoarding old man who thinks that he is a God because he can create and destroy life with his power and wealth!” Bayne felt hot with shame and disgrace. He had let greed take his mind, and almost seize his soul. He weakly attempted to fight back. “But, I…” His father continued. “You are the only one who can make this choice. It is a test that will prove what kind of man you are. I will say no more. Choose.”
Bayne tried to speak. He knew what the right thing to do was. “I…” But why should he do it? The treasure was his! If he let it go, he would never be a king, he would always be poor, and his family would continue to struggle! “I want to…” He wanted to keep the gold, but he thought about what his father said. All those terrible things his brothers and sisters had to do, all because of Arthox’s wicked greed! If they gave the gold to all, they would be able to prosper, and they would have hope again! But he wouldn’t have to be like Arthox, he could be a good king! A wise and good man, who would protect his people and give them hope! No, that was not possible. He knew that with all of that wealth, he would immediately lose sight of his people, and they would suffer while he became rich! Bayne clenched his fists, and hung his head limply, staring at the broken old boots on his feet, and the soft but tattered pants that he wore. “I… I want to give it to my people…”
Bayne’s father smiled and laid his hand on top of Bayne’s brown hair and ruffled it. “You’ve given hope back to our people, my son. Surely one day you will be a great leader for your brothers and sisters. Don’t ever give up on them, or on justice. Serve them as long as you live, for it is a more rewarding life than any amount of wealth could give.” Bayne lifted his head and looked into his father’s gentle, compassionate eyes. All he could think about was that when he grew to be that age, he wanted to have his father’s eyes. “I will father. I will serve my people just like you and mother do.” His father clapped him on the back, “Son, it is a calling that you are more than destined for. The Gods surely have smiled upon your wisdom today. Now, help me carry this to our wagon, and tomorrow we will repay our people for their kindness and devotion to each other, and to their hope in the days to come.”
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The next morning, the town square was teaming with life as every day, and Bayne’s father had set up his wagon like always. However, this time there was no food in his wagon. The items in his wagon could not be seen, for they were covered I a large black cloth. Many minutes passed of confusion as people gathered around in confusion, pondering why he had not brought the remenants of the last season’s crop. Hushed whispers and puzzled looks were exchanged, until at last an elderly man stepped out of the gathering circle.
“Markus, my old friend, how is Bayne? The lad getting along well?”
“Yes, Mattellus, my son is doing very well. How is your family?”
“They are well my friend, but my family struggles as I grow older… I am fearing that I will not much longer be able to support them…”
“Do not fret, Mattellus. You know that my home is always open to you, and I will always provide you with food for your family.”
“Oh my friend, you give an old man such a cause for joy. I only wish that the King was as compassionate and wise… Markus, are you doing well? This has been the first time that my old memory can recall you have not brought food to the Square… your fields weren’t seized, were they?”
“No, my friend. Today I bring something more than food. I bring a gift from my son.”
With that, all eyes and heads turned as Markus walked silently over to his wagon, and began to undo the knots that had fastened the cloth in place. As he got one side of the cloth untied, two solitary gold coins fell from underneath. Eyes grew wide and looked to each other in surprise and disbelief.
“My brothers and sisters, here is my son’s gift to you! The hope of a prosperous and happy future!” Markus ripped the cloth from the wagons contents, and several people shouted with joy as the jewels and precious treasures spilled from the wagon. Most of everyone just stood in awe, unable to believe the miracle that had unfolded before their eyes.
Immediately everything exploded. Some people fell to their knees, hands cupped over their faces as they wept for joy at the sight before them. Others threw their arms up and shouted praises to the Gods for the blessed Markus and the miracle that had just occurred. Everyone approached the wagon, slowly and timidly, as if they feared it was but a cruel jest. The first one to take hold of an object was a young woman, one of those whose body had been ravaged by men so that she could support her sick parents and her children. With shaking hands, she picked up a necklace of gold with a diamond-eyed hawk imprinted upon it. Her eyes filled with tears and she fell before all, weeping uncontrollably with joy and relief. “Gods… thank the Gods!!!” she bawled as she clutched the necklace to her breast, as if her very soul depended on the tiny relic. The crowd’s emotions increased ten fold. Everyone was rushing toward the wagon, hysterical with happiness. Families lay huddled around the Square, holding one another and sobbing as they kissed the objects that would mean their freedom. “Warm bread! We will have warm bread!” Shouted someone in ecstasy. “Meat! Fresh meat!” cried another. “My baby will live!” sobbed another woman in disbelieving awe. “I can cloth my family! We will no longer be cold!”
“We can live like humans again!”
“Oh praise the Gods! We are saved! Saved!”
Mattellus looked down quietly at the weeping crowd before him as they divided up the wealth. To them, they had never experienced such happiness. They would no longer starve, they would no longer freeze during winter. Their daughters would be safe from the perverse needs of the nobles, and their fathers could finally come home. Mattellus looked up at Markus, and saw that there were tears in his eyes.
“Markus, my friend, why do you cry? You have brought hope back to our people, and saved us from suffering. You are a savior to them, a messenger from the Gods!”
Markus smile as tears slid down his face. His whole body shook with emotion, but he did not weep. “You know how many seasons we have dreamed about this Mattellus… you have been there all the years that we have bled in hopes that the next day would bring us a miracle.” Markus shook violently, threatening to break down with the rest of the mob, “We have dreamed of this day for so long, my friend! And now it s finally here! We are saved! We can finally put the dark shadow of the past behind us, and live our lives! Can you see their joy? Their relief? I have prayed to the Gods every day that a savior might arrive and break our bonds of despair! Now one has! We are free from Arthox’s tyranny!” Then Markus began to weep with the rest of the group, and made to embrace his brothers and sisters in this time of celebration. Mattellus caught him gently by the shoulder.
“Markus, you speak of a savior… who is this man you speak of?”
Markus’ chest swelled with pride, and his eye’s shone with paternal love. “Bayne, my son. He is the one who discovered all of this in our fields. He fought the demon of greed, and he won!” Mattellus smiled, and looked off into the weeping crowd. “Ah yes. Your boy has shown wisdom beyond his years. I pray that when Arthox falls, a man like your son will come to rule. The Gods have surely blessed him.”
“I know…” Markus said in quiet adoration
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The crowd stayed for many hours, embracing one another, wishing each other well, and praying to the Gods. The town was a changed place, no longer was it saturated by a mood of quiet hope, but the town was resounding with shouts of joy and cries of happiness. Those who were not in the town square were told the wonderful news, and they in turn burst into tears. As the sun slowly began to set, only a few people remained, sitting together in circles and reflecting o the events of that day. Markus and Mattellus stood silently beside another, as much in disbelief of the day as all others. Markus finally turned to Mattellus. “I must get home to my wife and son. I wish to spend this night with them.” Mattellus nodded, “And I need to get home to my family. We have much to be thankful for this day.” They embraced, and they both turned to leave. But as Mattellus walked away, he spied something next to one of the wagon’s wheels. “Markus, wait a moment.” Markus paused and looked curiously as Mattellus stooped to pick up the object. “Take this to Bayne. Tell him the story we used to tell…” Markus looked at the item in Mattellus’ hand, and he smiled. “I thank you my friend, and I will tell him.”
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“My King! General Kreismar reporting!”
“Hmmmmm? General I certainly hope you have a good reason for interrupting me at this hour. I was about to pay a visit to my favorite concubines.”
“I do, sir! There is rumor going around that the people of Helliot discovered a horde of buried treasure. They intend to keep it amongst themselves! Apparently the one that has been speaking ill of you is behind it.”
“Hm… that man? What was his name again?”
“Markus Tarrok, sir.”
“I see… well, I’m more interested in the treasure. Tell me…”
“Gold, silver, and jewels. Apparently a very vast amount. Enough for the whole town to live comfortably for many, many years to come.”
“My, my… that is unsettling isn’t it?”
“Yessi-“
“Don’t agree with me! Those wretched peasants… keeping that treasure all to themselves. How can they not even think to share it with me? I love my people, I give them what they need! Do they not love me? Answer me!”
“Yes sir. They revere their King like their savior”
“Good. And as they keep this wealth from their loving and wise king, they are committing treason, are they not?”
“Yes sir.”
“Good. General, I want you to take as many men as necessary, and exact punishment on Helliot. Seize every ounce of gold and treasure you find, and don’t be afraid to bloody up a few of them if the resist”
“Yes sir.”
“… Oh, and General?”
“Yes sir?”
“That man… ugh, what’s his name? The lowlife scum that started all of this?”
“Markus Tarrok, sir.”
“Yes, that one… make an example of him. Kill him and his family. Well, he did find this treasure… reward him for that. Kill him first, so that he doesn’t have to watch the rest.”
“Yes sir.”
“Oh general, I love it when you are this agreeable…”
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Bayne and his mother were talking and sitting next to their small fireplace when Markus returned home. Both of them turned to look as he walked quietly through the door, and then shut it. He moved to embrace his wife and then his sun, as they sat down to eat their evening meal. Markus told Bayne and his wife how grateful the people were, and Bayne smiled as he ate. After they had finished with their meal, Markus pulled aside his wife. “Please go and sleep, Sarah. Tomorrow will be a day of celebration and festivity, I am sure of it. I want to speak with Bayne alone before I settle down for the night.”
Sarah looked lovingly into the eyes of her husband, and then turned her eyes toward her son. “He is a wonderful child. He is truly a blessed boy. When we are gone… I hope that his life is filled with grace and wonder…” She look back at Markus and touched her hands to his cheeks, then kissed him. “But won’t be for some time. I will see you shortly.” They embraced and exchanged a brief kiss, then she hurried back into their room. Markus approached his son, still sitting silently at the table. “My son, lay open your palm, and I will give you a gift from your people.” Bayne looked curiously at his father, but extended his hand, fingers uncurled. Markus took Bayne’s hand under the wrist, and set his other hand on Bayne’s palm, letting the small gift come to rest in Bayne’s hand. His hands still clasped around Bayne’s, he said “This was what remained of the treasure at the end of the day, and it is truly the greatest treasure of them all.”
Markus pull his hands away, and Bayne beheld the smooth blue stone in his hand. He looked up at his father in confusion. “This is treasure? I do not understand…”
Markus began. “The true treasures of this world are not the gold and gems that mankind bring above human lives. The real treasures are the gifts of the Gods. The trees that grow upon the hilltops, and the rivers that give life to all things are treasure. You see the rock in your hand? The Gods blessed upon it the color of the sky and the rivers. It is the color of hope, life and freedom. In that small rock is more wealth than any kingly riches. It is the color that is closest to the Gods. Bayne, my son, you are destined for great things, now I am sure of this. You stood strong against greed and temptation, and then you gave hope, life and freedom back to our people. My son, you are the greatest treasure that I have ever received. I hope that this tiny treasure will make you remember always my love and my pride in you. Mattellus told me that when Arthox is dethroned, he wished someone like you would take his place. Your wisdom and kindness will make you a great leader. Our people will forever remember this day, and they will remember that it was you who set them free from tyranny. Never forget your brothers and sisters. Serve your people all your life Bayne, and the Gods will walk with you.”
Markus stood silent and looked at his son. Bayne’s face was pointed toward the ground, but the firelight reflected the tears that were dripping down to the floor. His fingers were clenched tightly around the stone in his hand, with his arm still outstretched where he received it. His father had saved him from greed, yet he proclaimed his son’s resilience. He felt the cool indentation in his hand, and he thought again about his father’s eyes. “Son?” Markus whispered as he moved toward him. “Father…” Bayne hardly managed to say before he broke down and threw his arms around his father. “You…” he stammered through clenched teeth and choked breaths, “You are also my treasure! I will stand beside you until Haelig takes you and mother to Haven, for surely you will go there! I can only pray that I will be half the man that you are now! I love you father! Please, Gods, let me grow up to have your eyes!” Markus held his son tightly, and did not know if he could bring himself to let go. “You will my son, I promise…”
As they came away from their embrace, Markus smacked his son playfully on the jaw. “Well now, what’s the point of sleeping? We must prepare ourselves for the celebrations, for surely they will not end for many days! Take our ax and chop some fresh firewood, so that we can cook the mountains of food that will be laid before us! I will rouse your mother, then run down to Jerard’s to see if we can get some food for the festivities!” Bayne grinned, and stuffed the stone in his pocket. “Alright! Ready son?” Markus threw his hands up in the air, and Bayne slapped them together. “TET CHAI!” they shouted in unison, and Bayne turned on his heels and sprinted out the door. Markus laughed softly, and ran to fetch a few coins. It would be a night to remember.
Bayne grabbed the ax around the back of their house I no time at all, and taking it up in both hands, immediately set off toward the lumber mill. The night was quiet, and the air was cool and moist. The moon was bright that night, and its light was spread all across the sky due to the moisture, giving everything a glowing hue of silver. Bayne ran at a brisk pace, eager to retrieve some lumber and then return home. After all, the faster the night’s work was done, the faster tomorrow would arrive. He did not need to worry about carrying the lumber either, because Seave, the operator of the lumber mill, allowed him free use of a hand cart whenever his family required, as payment for the food Markus provided to them during an especially harsh winter. Bayne smiled and felt the blue stone swing in his pocket in match with his stride. He would fetch extra wood, so that his brothers and sisters might have some extra. He ran with a greater sense of purpose and duty. His actions would always be what were best for his people! He did not notice the figure running beside him until it grabbed him by the shirt.
The sudden backwards jerk in his motion sent him reeling back, past the figure that had wished to halt his progress. He regained his footing and stood still, until the figure grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around so that they looked eye to eye. The only thing that snatched Bayne from his daze was the familiar face before him.
“Bayne!” The man said, “Bayne!” Bayne looked at the figure in confusion. “Ferros? Um, how are you? I have not se-“ Ferros cut him off, “Bayne, there are soldiers on the way to Helliot!” Bayne froze and looked at Ferros in shock. “Soldiers? Why? Have they come to buy-“ “They have come to buy nothing, Bayne! They bear blades and armor with them! They are dressed for battle!” Bayne’s skin suddenly felt cold, he felt like ice had been slid down his spine. “Ferros, why are they here!? There has been no call to war!” his voice bordered on the edge of panic. “There is nothing more they can-“ His mind fell to his father’s words about King Arthox, and his insatiable greed. His eyes grew wide with fear. “Bayne, run to your father, tell him what is happening! Quickly, before they arrive at your home!” Bayne didn’t even need to think. He spun around and ran as fast as he could back toward his home. “Run Bayne! RUN!” Ferros’ voice chased behind him. His body was taken over by instinct as his fear fueled his speed.
Bayne reeled around the back of a house and froze when he heard pounding on the door. The door swung nope with a creak, and a surprised male voice spoke. “S-soldiers? Um, good evening, h-how may I help you?” A voice filled with tainted authority responded, “Yes, peasant. Where is the house of Markus Tarrok?” “I-I… his house is just outside the east side of town— is something the matter?” The soldier’s reply turned Bayne’s blood cold. “Markus will be executed for treason against his Majesty King Arthox. If you don’t want to follow in the wretch’s footsteps, surrender all gold within the confines of your house.” The man’s voice turned from shock to fury. “You, you think that you can seize my family’s money for no reason!? No, you will not crush our hopes agai—“ The conversation was cut off by the unmistakable sound of a sword being unsheathed from a scabbard, and then the even more unmistakable sound of a sword being sheathed in flesh. Immediately screams rang from inside the house, and the guard shouted “In the name of the King, criminals shall be brought to justice!” Bayne stumbled away from the wall in terror. They had killed someone, hadn’t they? He couldn’t see, he didn’t want to see. His father, they wanted to slay his father! He immediately began to sprint with doubled fervor towards his home. His ears heard the screams from the house abruptly end, and his eyes filled with tears. He threw the ax away from him, for it was slowing him down to much. He heard more shouts and screams from behind him, and heard many in the distance. The soldiers were inside Helliot.
Bayne ran straight through town, taking all the hidden paths and alleys he could, desperately avoiding the screams and trying to reach his home before the soldiers. Minutes of panic and terror passed as he flew through the darkest corners of the city, not being spotted by a one soldier. He rounded the corner and slid into the alley between the town’s eastern wall. He was almost there! As he slid out and swung himself around the corner, his house merely yards away, he stood petrified, hidden in the shadows. Before the front door of his home, torchlight reflected off three suits of armor. He couldn’t bring himself to move, his body had frozen in place. One of the soldiers raised an armored fist and slammed it against the door five times. The door creaked open slowly and the house’s light shown through the threshold. Bayne saw his father’s silhouette in the doorway, and could make out every detail of him. His father had not heard the screams yet, for his face flickered briefly in shock, then set into a solemn expression. The soldier directly in front of his father raised his hand and pointed at Markus. He met the soldiers gaze with a powerful glare, and spoke “Hail, virtuous Knights of Arvahel and King Arthox. How might I serve you?” Bayne’s hands trembled violent and he tried to shout, but could not. Tears streamed down his face as the soldier spoke again. “Peasant, is this the house of Markus Tarrok?” Markus had the look of a man prepared to meet his destiny without fear. He stood to his full height, and said calmly, “This is his house, and I am Mar—“ Bayne watched as the knight’s hand slid fast as a gale to the hilt of his sword, and as each finger wrapped itself around the slender handle’s grip. He burst out of his state of paralysis and threw himself half running, half stumbling towards the soldiers and his father. The man whose eyes he held so dear, who no more than two hours ago, he had embraced and told him he was his treasure. The man who stood before his executioner. Bayne’s voice ripped through the night sky, as he threw himself toward his treasure. “FATHER!!!!!!!!”
Markus’ eyes flew wide and his head spun to look at his son. “B—“ His face made a curious expression, and then looked down at the elegant sword hilt that protruded from the middle of his ribcage. His eyes wide with shock, he stared back at his son in an attempt to speak, his eyes wide with as he struggled to finish his son’s name. Bayne stumbled and fell to his knees, frozen as he beheld his father impaled upon the knight’s blade, he saw the shadow of his mother flit across the doorway, and heard her shriek in horror as she saw the same spectacle that Bayne beheld. The knight jerked his hand back, and ripped the blade out of its most recent home. Bayne watched as his father swayed, and descended to the ground. The light in his father’s beloved eyes flickered violently, and then died. The knight said something that Bayne could not hear, but he saw what words his lips formed. “For The King…” Bayne fell forward face first onto the dirt road, and could not bring himself to rise. His form quaked in retching spasms, and he sucked dirt into his nose and mouth as he tried to breath. His mind burned, his lungs burned, and his heart burned. Bayne’s mind was dark; all he could see was his father falling dead to the ground, over and over again. It was incinerated into his mind. He slid his face across the dirt, tears causing the earth to smear across his face as he saw the knights still standing there. They were laughing. The largest soldier’s grating laugh was maddening, and he said, “Pffft… what a weakling. I can’t believe the King sent us all the way over here just to off some b*****d farmer. He did’t even fight back! Not resistance at all!” For the first time the knights seemed to notice Sarah, screaming her husband’s name as she held his corpse in her shaking arms. The large knight split a sick smile. “Well, I take it back. It looks like I won’t have wasted my time after all…”
“Do what you want with her Jerhid. A traitor’s life doesn’t matter to me.” Said the first knight, swabbing the blood off of his sword with a white cloth. The large knight didn’t need any more of an invitation. Bayne could only watch helplessly as Jerhid grabbed his mother violently by the shoulders, and hoisted her up to his eye level. “Well well, pretty lady. Don’t you worry your little head, I’ll make you forget all about that stupid farmer. We’ll have fun, I promise.” Sarah shook with rage and agony, and with all of her might, swiped her fingers across the man’s face. He threw her to the ground and grabbed his face as he howled with pain. “You… *****!!” He bellowed with rage, and he jerked Sarah up from the ground. Bayne could see Jerhid’s face. Blood oozed from four jagged lines across his jowl, and his teeth were bared in fury. “I was going to be gentle, but I can see that you’re a wench that likes it rough!” He grabbed her by the head, and squeezed until she whimpered. “That’s right… but don’t waste too much energy! I want to make sure you can moan for me…” He licked his lips and sneered. His eyes reflected intense masochistic ecstasy, and he moved to rip her gown. Bayne sobbed weakly, and clawed at the dirt, trying to drag himself to his mother and father. His mother was going to be raped, and all he could do was lay there and cry? “Stop… make him stop… please…” He wept erratically, and extended a shaking hand towards his mother. For the first time, Bayne saw the third knight. He was tall ad well built, but he had a air of timidity and inferiority to him. Bayne made eye contact with the knight, and he could feel the turmoil thrashing inside of him. “Stop it!” the knight yelled, “Our goal had been fulfilled, there’s no need to hurt any more people! Let the woman go in peace! Carsen, make him stop!”
Carsen glared at the knight, “I don’t give a damn whether it’s a man, woman or child, Kauros, a traitor is a traitor, and their scum will be purged from Arthox’s lands! If you want to stop Jerhid, do it yourself…” Carsen smirked, “if you can…” Jerhid stopped and looked at Bayne, his sneer growing wider. He slammed Sarah up against the wall, and as she gasped with pain, Jerhid pointed to Bayne. “After I’m done ****ing you, I’ll drag you back out here so you can watch me cut him into little pieces!” Sarah screamed hysterically, “NO! Oh my Gods, no!” and then she went limp in Jerhid’s hands, moaning in agony. Jerhid took the opportunity to feel her up, “Oh, I like that sound! I’ll have you make it even more for me!” Then Jerhid turned and leered at Bayne. “Now, me and mommy are gonna have a widdle bit of fun! Okay?” Bayne succumbed to his sobbing once again, and he looked at his mother. She met her son’s gaze, and the same kind of look came over her that came over Markus. She lifted her hand weakly, outstretched towards her treasure, and he in turn stretched out his arms toward his. “Momma…” Jerhid shoved her through the doorway, and they disappeared from Bayne’s sight. He clamped his eyes shut and sobbed. “Momma!” He cried, and he was acknowledged by his mother’s screams from inside.
Bayne drug himself through the dirt, whimpering, clawing his way up to Carsen. He grasped Carsen’s feet with his shaking hands, and begged. “P-please… save momma…” he shook at Carsen’s feet, the usually silent night broken by the screams of his mother, and his people. Smoke could be faintly smelled as well. Carsen looked with disgust at the wretch at his feet and pulling his foot back, kicked Bayne square in the face with his metal boot. Bayne screamed in pain, and cradled his head in his hands, to try and protect him from the blows. Carsen struck him again in the ribs, causing the child to scream out again. Glaring down at the child, Carsen kicked him again, and again, and again and again, kicking him harder each time he screamed. “Stupid brat!” Carsen yelled at the quivering helpless thing before him. Carsen took his sword from its sheath again, and spat on Bayne, “Pathetic imbecile begs for his life. Such weak little children don’t deserve to live anyway!”
Carsen suddenly found himself staring into the blazing orbs of Kauros. He also realized that Kauros had one hand slowly crushing his windpipe, while his other hand held a dagger in, its tip already burrowed lightly into Carsen’s neck. “If you touch this child” Kauros growled right at Carsen, drawing himself up so that their faces were not even an inch apart, “so much as one more time…” He twisted the dagger, causing blood to bubble out and Carsen to wince with pain. “ I SWEAR to you and the God’s that you will not survive to see the dawn.” Carsen gulped for air as he clawed at Kauros’ hand. The screams from in the house died down, and Jerhid came out shortly after to find his comrades in that position. “We are sparing the child’s life aren’t we Carsen?” Kauros hissed at him. Carsen nodded, and he said in a hoarse whisper, “we’re sparing the boy… “ Kauros released Carsen’s neck, who stumbled backward coughing and gasping for air. After Carsen recuperated, he shot Kauros a contemptuous glance, “But we burn the house” Kauros threw his hand up to grab ahold of Carsen again, but he found both Jehrid and Carsen’s swords at his throat. “We BURN the house” Carsen said, his voice dripping with venom, “understood?” Kauros glared with intense hatred at Carsen, “Yes… SIR.”
Jehrid and Carsen took the torches from the brackets on the sides of the house, and tossed them inside. Jehrid shook his head in disappointment as the house caught fire, and weak panicked screams began to come from inside the house. “Too bad, she was the most satisfying ***** I’ve ever had the good fortune to take… Well, I can die a content man…” Kauros stood silently as he heard Sarah screaming from inside the burning house, his hands gripped his sword’s handle so tightly that the leather in his leather creaked under the strain. “We have more important things to do than watch a whore burn” Carsen said nonchalantly, as he slid his blade back into its sheath. “We have the King’s tax to collect.” Jerhid and Carsen then turned away and casually strolled off toward the Town square. Kauros stood very still for a very long time, watching as the roof to the house began to cave in, and Sarah’s screams slowly grew more distant. “Arthox is the traitor … not her, not Markus…” he turned and looked at Bayne, still conscious and crying desperately for his mother, “… nor are you a traitor…” Kauros walked over to where Bayne lay on the ground, and kneeled before him. Silently he unstrapped the sword at his side, the sword of a Knight of Arvahel. He looked into Bayne’s eyes. His face was caked with blood, and his breath came in sharp rapid gasps. His eyes reflected the most primal fear of Kauros, and the knight understood why. Kauros took his sword, and slowly laid it in front of Bayne. “Avenge your family” Kauros whispered, and rose to pursue his comrades.
Bayne had not missed one moment of that night. His eyes fell wildly on his father’s corpse, and his ears caught his mother’s fading cries. The smell of smoke came from all over Helliot, and sounds of violent struggle were beginning to be heard. That day Bayne’s people had been given hope, life and freedom once again. That night, it was swept away in a sea of ash and blood.
Bayne’s eyes stared at the magnificent sword before his, whimpering in agony for his parents and people. He was blind from the world around him at that point. The only things that his mind knew was that his parent’s were dead, and he was broken. His life was trapped in a perpetual nightmare, reliving every moment of that night to no end. His choked sobs struggled to escape his lungs through the ribs that were undoubtedly broken. The copper taste of blood was potent in his mouth, and he could feel his tears running over coagulated blood. All he wanted was to die, it was as simple as that. He wanted to be back in yesterday, with his mother and father. He couldn’t bring himself to cry anymore, his body had been exerted beyond its limits. His eyes slowly closed as he was accepted into the black veil of unconsciousness.
The rising sun was greeted by a mournful wail over all of Helliot. The soldiers had completed their duty, and loading up wagons full of their King’s riches, they silently processed out of the town. Snakes of pungent smoke rose from the smoking ruins of buildings, and the remnants of the townspeople that hadn’t been slain cried bitterly for those that had not survived the night. Pieces of families huddled together in the roads and town square, trying to comfort their brothers and sisters. Yet regardless of the solace they gave one another, they all knew the truth. The Gods had blessed them with the gift of hope and freedom, and immediately after Arthox seized it from them. “Is nothing sacred?” wailed one woman as she clutched her daughter to her bosom. “We are truly lost now!” The towns people tried to think on how they would survive. The King had taken everything of worth. There was no way to provide for all of the people in town. One man ran down to the tow square and stood before the people. His eyes were filled with tears of sadness and loathing. “The Gods save us!” He said as he fell to his knees, “Bayne and Sarah Tarrok have also been slain!” If ever there was a time of grief and darkness in Helliot, it was that morning.
Bayne felt sun on the back of his neck, and a cool wind as he roused from his state of unconsciousness. He could not understand why he was so cold, or why he was on the ground. As his eyes came into focus, he saw the scabbard of a mighty sword laying before him. The pain hit him without warning, and he yelped as the fire ran though his ribs, arms and legs. He felt like a horse, had trampled him. No… it had been a man. Bayne’s eyes flitted to the smoldering ashes before him, and his father’s corpse, lying half covered by the charred debris. Everything rushed back into his mind, the terrible knowledge of the night before cut into him like a knife. He gasped for breath as he pulled himself onto his knees, and crawled to his father. Bayne’s clothes were damp with dew, and the blood that covered his face and shirt was slick again from the moisture. He came to his father’s place of rest and knelt beside him. His father’s eyes were open in a sick gaze of peaceful death, and his mouth was frozen in the form of his son’s name. All of the agony of that night surged over him, and he clung to his dead father, sobbing with both pain and misery. He realized only then that there was no hope, that this wasn’t just some horrible nightmare. He wouldn’t be able to wake up and be comforted by his mother. They were dead, sleeping in eternity. He would never see them again…
He hated himself. It was his fault that his parents were dead. He could have save his father and mother, but he had been to cowardly to take action when he should have. He could have kept his ax, he could have driven them off! He could have shouted at the soldiers as soon as he saw them, or distracted them from his father and mother. He could have stood up and fought Jerhid when he took his mother! He threw up his head and screamed towards the sky. He could have saved them, but he hadn’t, because he was weak, because he was a coward. Carsen was right… “Stupid brat..” Bayne said through clenched teeth, shaking with anger. “WEAK LITTLE CHILD!!” He threw his arms around his father’s corpse, and wept even more. He looked into his father’s glazed eyes. They would never again be lit with life and compassion. He took his father’s limp hand, and whispered. “Tet Chai, papa…” He had failed far more than he could ever hope to succeed. He froze and abruptly stopped crying as he felt something move in his pocket. Sliding his hand into his pocket to grab it, his fingers curled around a warm round object. He ripped his hand out of his pocket, object in hand, and held it out before him. It was the stone his father had given him. His hands shook uncontrollably, and tears rolled from his eyes again. Yet he did not cry. He remembered what his father had told him. “The real treasures are the gifts of the Gods... My son, you are the greatest treasure that I have ever received… remember always my love and my pride in you.”
Bayne stemmed his tears. His hand shook with power as he gripped that tiny stone. “Father…” he said quietly, “You are the greatest treasure that I have ever receive…” King Arthox took his people’s treasure, their hopes and dreams. But he had not only taken that. His heart felt strange, a rapid fiery sensation building within him. His mind flashed back to laying on the ground, watching as they his father was cut down before he could defend himself. His memory flashed again, as Jehrid violated his mother, and as he could hear her screams from within the crumbling house. He relived when Carsen beat him down, because he begged for an innocent life. Bayne clasped the blue stone to his chest, and once again, he was shaking, but not with sadness. Bayne was consumed by a terrible rage. “King Arthox took more than gold and gems…” Bayne whispered between violent heaving breaths and clenched teeth. “He took so much more. He took the greatest treasure of all… he took MY FAMILY!!” Once more his mind flew back to the previous night. This time, he saw Kauros, standing before Bayne’s burning home, perfectly still. Kauros had sensed his fear when he knelt beside him, but he misread his fear. Bayne had seen the rage inside Kauros, and he was terrified by the power with which he restrained his fury. In Bayne’s eye if Kauros had been angered any more, eve in the slightest, his wrath would have been more terrifying than that of a vengeful God. “Arthox is the traitor…” Kauros said, his voice arctic with resentment. “Arthox is the traitor!” Bayne snarled. “Not your mother…” “Not my mother!” Bayne uttered, his heart filling with hatred. “Not Markus…” “NOT MY FATHER!” Bayne bellowed in rage. His father would never be a traitor. He always served his people, he was always loyal, faithful and true. King Arthox… “LIAR!!” Bayne screamed, throwing his fist into the ground, sending razor lines of fire up his arm. He ignored them. “CORRUPT!! VILE!! DECEITFUL, GREEDY, LOATHSOME b*****d OF A KING!!” Bayne slammed his hand into the ground again and again, the fire building in his arm. He didn’t care. In fact, he enjoyed it. “KING ARTHOX IS THE TRAITOR!! NOT MY MOTHER!! NOT MY FATHER!!” “Avenge your family” Bayne stopped striking the ground, and turned around. There was the sword that Kauros had set beside him, undisturbed. The weapon would exact his people’s justice.
Bayne put his hands on the ground, and pushed. He summoned all of his strength, slowly rising from the ground. Incredible pain swelled in Bayne’s legs, as if a hundred needles had been stuffed into his leg. He trembled violently, but continued to rise. His ribs burned with fire as he panted with effort. He ground his teeth together, and in one burst of energy, threw himself to his full height. He could bones popping and nearly fell to the ground with the sudden explosion of pain. However, he forced himself to stand, and carefully took a step towards the sword. “Avenge your family” Each step was painful, but each step fuelled his hunger for revenge. He stumbled and swayed, but he righted his course each time, and then stood silently before the sword. The sun glinted off of the scabbards silver plating, etched with pictures of mighty kings leading their armies into combat. With shaking hands, he slowly and painfully knelt before the sword. He slid his fingers under the swords scabbard, and raised it into his lap. The sword’s hilt had a single sapphire embedded between the two cross arms. The handle’s grip was crafted of fine black leather, adding to the silver’s brilliant contrast. “AVENGE YOUR FAMILY!”
Bayne’s eyes flickered to his father’s corpse. His face contorted with vengeful fury, he screamed “I WILL AVENGE MY FAMILY!!” His hand flew to the handle of the sword, and in one movement, ripped it from the scabbard. He had never wielded a sword before, and the action was incredibly clumsy, nearly slicing his shirt as he unsheathed the blade. But his rage gave him power over the sword, and he held firmly to its handle. After the blade was freed, he thrust it out before him, in two hands. The blade looked to be made of steel, but it looked like it was something more. From the tip of the sword to the base of the hilt, a fine gold vein had been laid into the metal. Bayne was overwhelmed with a strange sensation. The blades weight burned his arms, yet it felt so comfortable… so right. He would learn how to fight, and he would become strong. Then, he would kill Arthox. But one thing echoed in Bayne’s mind. “You are destined for great things, now I am sure of this. You stood strong against greed and temptation, and then you gave hope, life and freedom back to our people… Never forget your brothers and sisters. Serve your people all your life Bayne, and the Gods will walk with you.”
Bayne stood still, and closed his eyes as Ferros ran up towards him. “Bayne! Bayne, your alive! Thank the Gods!” He slowed and his eyes grew wide and he beheld Bayne’s tattered, bruised, bloody and beaten figure. Despite his pain and injuries, he stood tall and noble, and the sword in his hand glittered like a ray of light. “Serve my people…” Bayne whispered, and Ferros gave him a concerned look. “Bayne?”
“I will serve my people, father…” Bayne whispered again, either heedless or ignoring Ferros’ presence. “I will serve my people… I will defend my people.”
His eyes opened, and he stared at Ferros with a cold gaze of determination and conviction. He knew now that this blade would be the one to spill Arthox’s blood.
“Avenge your family…”
He would save his brothers and sisters, and lead them back to hope. He thrust the sword skyward, ad with his head turned toward the heavens, he proclaimed:
“I will fight for my people! FATHER, I WILL AVENGE OUR PEOPLE!”
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And so the day passed
That revealed hell
to the eyes of a boy
And the fire
that would cleanse
Arvahel
Had been lit
Let the ropes of fate unravel
Until the King becomes a man
And three years from now
Our vision lies
Behold the hero of his time
The Savior of Arvahel
Hidden in the Shadows
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Act Two: Savior in the Shadows
Frank stifled a yawn as he stood on watch over Dellvos’ East Gate. He quite frankly didn’t understand why he had to be there, no one had even tried to infiltrate Dellvos in over a century, much less attack it. All he knew is that it was a cold, uneventful, and morbidly boring night. To make matters worse, the warden had given him two more hours on shift for sleeping on the job. Frank scowled and muttered a few profanities at his boss. That damned old man wasn’t good at anything but lecturing and throwing tantrums. If a conflict ever arose ––and at that time Frank almost wished one would occur— the warden would be unable to do anything but run, or die. Frank wouldn’t grieve too much if the latter occurred, in fact he might even throw a small party amongst his fellow soldiers. Unfortunately the old man showed no signs of croaking any time soon, so until that day Frank was forced to endure the criminal monotony of his days. He tapped his fingers impatiently against the top of the stone parapet, as if the more he tapped the quicker time would pass.
“Oi, cut it out Frank” A scruffy bearded guard nearby grunted. “Your racket’s beginning to piss me off.” Frank politely responded by raising his middle finger in the guard’s direction. Frank’s incredible etiquette drew a hearty laugh from the other man. “Easy lad, neither of us is going anywhere anytime soon. May as well be friendly-like. Besides-” he cracked a toothy grin, “I’m stronger and a better fighter than you are, so watch who you point it at!” Frank snickered, and spit over the edge of the wall, watching as the moonlight illuminated it before it descended into the wall’s shadow. “Bernard, I’ve got better eyes then ye’ll ever have, and that’s all that matters when ye’re on watch. Especially on a night like this… So ye can kiss my arse” he grumbled. He almost hoped he offended Bernard. A fight would spice up the night, and it would sure beat staring aimlessly into the distance. Instead Bernard just chuckled, “Eager for a scuffle as always, eh ‘Cranky Franky?’ Well, you’ve certainly got better eyes than me; I’ll give you that. Heard nothings gotten past you.” Frank turned to face Bernard, a content smirk one his face. Food for his ego, that was always something he would appreciate. “That’s right, and don’ ye furget it. I’d be able to tell if ye so much as blink bad at me”—he whipped his sword out and struck a pose—“and I’d cut ye down before ye could think otherwise!” All this did was summon up a fit of bellowing laughter from Bernard, which dealt a fatal blow to Frank’s freshly boosted ego. “Well Frank, I’ve no doubt you’d be able to cut me down now! I’m laughing so hard I wouldn’t stand a chance!” Frank slammed his sword back into its scabbard, and fumed as Bernard nearly double over with laughter. Being busy with these recent events, Frank’s sharp eyes failed to catch the two streaks of rippling crimson darting across the ground below.
Bernard, however, was still facing out over the gate, and he managed to catch a glimpse at one of the crimson tails whipping over the ground. “Oi!” He shouted to Frank, who was still recovering from personal injuries. “Did you see that?” He pointed to where the color had been before, and Frank lazily turned to glance out over the area. There was no sign that anything had been there, and there was nothing anywhere around it either. “Ye’re out of yer head Berns. There’s nothing down there, and never will be. Standing watch is the most pointless task a soldier can receive…”
Many minutes passed, with Frank continuing to stare off into space tapping his fingers, and Bernard standing a few yards away in total silence. “Frank” Bernard said, his brow furrowed for some reason, “As long as you have been here, has anyone gotten past this wall?” Frank gave Bernard a cockeyed look. “This wall? Pfeh, its eighty feet tall, and ten feet thick! No one’s gotten past it in ages; in fact, my guess is that they all gave up.” He wore a smug expression that reeked of arrogance. “Sides, there ain’t no one that could get past these eyes!” Suddenly a hand slammed across Frank’s mouth, and he felt something very warm push into his neck, and spread down over the inside of his shirt and armor. He tried to speak, but suddenly decided that he didn’t want to. In fact, all he wanted to do was sleep. As his eyes closed and his life faded into darkness a very cold voice, devoid of mercy, whispered into his ear. “That’s incorrect….” Frank’s last thought was an indifferent realization that he was dead.
Bernard’s mind was deep in thought. He knew that those streaks he saw were real, at least he thought they were. He tried to come up with a logical explanation, and each time it came to the same ridiculous idea. Someone was approaching the wall with an intention far from casual travel. He knew that was impossible, as Frank had just said, the wall was un-climbable, and if anyone was trying to scale the wall they would certainly make a lot of noise. He looked over toward Frank. “Frank, what if someone tried to scale the---“ Bernard froze stiff. It was dark, but the moonlight illuminated Frank just enough to make him visible. A dark liquid streamed down Frank’s neck, over his chain mail, and began to gather in a large pool at his feet. Behind him stood someone… or something. All that was visible of the monster was a pale, bleached and fleshless skull, and two burning red orbs where its eyes would be.
Bernard stumbled back a few steps, and the beast took Frank by the neck, and chucked him over the side of the wall. A few seconds later the sound of cracking bones and banging metal echoed dimly up to the wall above. Bernard fell back wards and shouted out in an attempt to alert the other guards “G-gua-GYAHH!!!” Bernard wretched with pain as a dagger broke his fall. A hand grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and jerked him upright, and Bernard gasped with shock and pain as his neck’s skin was pulled off the muscle from the force of the motion. He was pulled backwards, and was thrown again into the dagger. Fire ripped up his spine and back, burning his mind and blinding his vision. When the white hot flash of pain died down enough to regain his sight, he was staring into the eyes of The Harbinger himself.
The monster’s head was nothing more than a cadaverous skull, devoid of all skin, hair and flesh. Where human teeth should be, terrible fangs had sprouted from the jaw. Blood dripped down from the terrible beast’s eye sockets, and Bernard stared with terror right into the flames of hell. He trembled with both pain and fear, as the abomination’s skeletal jaws began to move. “Where is Officer Suite 17…” it moaned in a terrible voice. The undead creature’s voice reflected that it was devoid of any life or humanity. Bernard threw his head backward in a silent scream as the monster twisted the dagger in his back, probing back and forth through his flesh. It felt as if a thousand tiny knives were ripping him open from the inside. “Tell me… I can make the pain end…” The thing promised, “I can make you sleep…” Sleep… Bernard wanted to sleep, his eyes were heavy, but the pain was keeping him awake. He had never wanted anything so badly. Damn Arthox, and damn the oath of loyalty. “Suite 17… third floor of the barracks… right most hall…” Bernard said hoarsely, hoping that it was the information the creature wanted. The monstrosity was still for a while, and then it raised its hand up over Bernard’s neck. For the first time, Bernard saw in the faint moonlight that blades tipped each finger, and a single spine protruded from under the thing’s wrist. “Now…” The thing whispered with a suddenly human voice, triumphant and merciless, “Sleep!” Bernard realized right before the knives sliced through his throat that this was not the type of sleep he wanted.
As the monster tossed Bernard’s corpse over the side of the wall, the other beast approached him. “Too easy…” it said. The second one laughed, and as soon as it heard proof of Bernard’s fall, slid its hands over the back of its head. “Ferros--” The monster said as it pulled the skull mask free from its face. “In all of our encounters with Arthox’s lackeys, have they ever not been ‘too easy’?” Ferros laughed quietly, though there was no humor in the statement, or their mood. Ferros removed his mask “No Bayne, you are right. There is nothing but incompetence and greed here.” Bayne sneered, and a malicious look flickered in his eyes. “The closer we get to that snake of a king, the more you can smell his rank stench. Now we are upon the threshold of his kingdom, and I can feel the corruption pulsing around me.” Ferros turned and looked across the expanse of the barracks. From the wall they could see nearly everything. It looked like most everyone was asleep except for the other soldiers patrolling the barracks. Faint candle light flickered in a single window. Anyone else that was awake was either out of view, or inside the dormitories. “It’s quiet.” Ferros whispered, “I’m surprised none of them heard us.” Bayne sneered, and flicked his wrist. The blades on his fingertips and knuckles slid back into unseen pockets cleverly hidden within the black leather gloves, then grabbed a small wooden level near his upper forearm and pulled back the spring loaded metal spin.
“Bayne?” Ferros asked, leaning against the parapet as he scowled at the expanse of barracks before him. “What is it Ferros” Bayne responded, his eyes fixed like a vice on the candle light from the window. “Why did we come here? There was a more direct route to the capital city. Why stop here?” Bayne pulled a long object wrapped in black cloth from his back, and unwrapped it. The sword Kauros had given him just three years ago lay in his hands, moonlight glinting off of its polished sheath. The sword he had been given when he was only twelve, when his world was cut apart, had remained almost unchanged. Bayne slid his hand onto the handle, and pulled the blade out of its scabbard. It gleamed like it had the first day, but one thing was changed. In the center of the blade, laid over the gold vein, long shards of onyx had been inlaid into the metal in the shape in the shape of letters. The blade had been christened Justice, as the onyx letters had been arranged. Bayne’s eyes gleamed with a thirst that had been with him for three years. “I’m going to meet some friends,” he whispered.
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“I didn’t ask for my wine watered, SLAVE!” Jerhid shouted, and chucked the goblet across the room, where its contents spilled across the floor. “Bring me another cup! And if it’s watered down, I’LL CUT OFF YOUR HANDS!!” The slave, a beautiful but terrified looking girl no older than fourteen, whimpered and fell before Jerhid. “Yes sir! Yes Master! Please don’t hurt me! I’ll do anything! Just don’t hurt me!” Jerhid’s face bore a sickening smile. “Anything?” he asked. “Y-yes! Please Master, don’t hurt me!” Jerhid’s expression was nothing but perversion. He reached down and grasped her jaw. “Bring me another cup of wine, then take off your clothes” Her eyes widened with terror, and she tried to pull away from him
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Bayne Tarrok's Journal
Miscellaeneous whatnot... maybe a few RP entries.. but probably not :P
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