*This is the backstory for an original Dungeons and Dragons character from an original universe.*
General Sir Centenius Oathbreaker, Hero of High point, Champion of Luvian, Slayer of the Dragon Guardian is in the same party as Eris Lychbane as told in Wild Horses, by DevilHerDue. But in this story he was just Centenius.
This is the story of how a young soldier from a desert war nation came to be in a small port city in the north, become a mercenary and join up with his current party.
"You can't cut surgically with a shaky hand, and honestly my nerves are shot again. Let me treat you like a doll and snap your neck in my hands." – P.O.S.
Gifted; that's what the general had called him. It had been two years, two hard years since the general's men had come to the Centenius vineyard to see, as they called him, "the man who cannot be struck." It was royal conscription that allowed the general to take the boy, only 17 at the time from his home and placed him in the King's army. Not that he would have resisted, every boy in Nefrun dreamed of serving. Dying with your boots on was a time-honored tradition.
The training was meant to be difficult.
"You thought the desert was hot without plate mail," His father said as he helpedthe boy put on his gauntlets, "General Yarith is an old friend. I served as his captain for years; he'll look after you, but don't count on his favor. You have to earn this."
"With the strength you have given me father." The boy turned and walked out to the waiting caravan of soldiers. "Wait!" cried the father as he grabbed the boy by the shoulder. The boy turned and the father embraced him, "You are the son I was meant to have."
The boy nodded. The King's army is no place for sentiment. These were not the dregs whom the king flooded into conquered lands to run the Nefrun flag up every pole, these were the best of the best.
The training was meant to be difficult.
But for the son of Arturus Centenius, It was literally child's play. He'd been wielding an axe since his fingers could grasp it. He was the strongest and the fastest. He was the best.
Two years of exceeding expectations and the Centenius boy found himself standing in an amphitheatre staring into the eyes of another soldier. The man was a captain, almost his father's age. He'd earned his stripes in the south, combating the wizards of Malif, just as Arturus had. His skin was dark, just as the boy's was.
"Friends and Subjects!" the king's minstrel's voice erupted from the balcony at the edge of the ring, "We gather today to witness the execution of a traitor. Captain Augustus Gaius and his men have attempted to kill the king and take his throne." The Crowd roared in disapproval. "As is Nefrunian tradition, Gaius will earn a stay if he can defeat the gatekeeper in single combat. Gaius, do you care to make a statement before your sentence is carried out?"
"I am a patriot," the captain exclaimed. The contemptuous hiss of the crowd was deafening. "In time you will all see." The captain pulled his helm down over his head and unsheathed his long sword, "I am ready."
"This is your final test," A familiar voice exclaimed. Centenius turned to see general Yarith standing in the ring. "General Yarith, I am honored by your presence sir." The general pulled from his pack a shining hand axe. "Kill this coward and you are a member of the royal guard." Yarith lifted the axe and gestured the handle toward Centenius, "Become the man you were raised to be."
Centenius' shaking hands steadied as they grasped the axe. He pulled down his helm and picked up the shield. He turned to the King's balcony and bowed. "Let it begin!" The minstrel's voice roared over the crowd. Centenius burst forth, fearlessly. There was no hesitation in his step; he'd abandoned that foolishness long ago. The crowd disappeared. There was no ring, no general, no king or minstrel. There was only the kill.
Centenius leapt into the air a few feet from the captain, bringing his axe down with great force. The captain parried the blow and turned as Centenius' landed behind him. The boy spun as he landed, his cloak kicking up a cloud of sand.
"I knew your father Arturus, he was a great man. I have heard tell of his son, I didn't know you were an executioner."
"Then you must know what they say of me."
"They say you cannot be hit."
Centenius lunged at the captain, striking his left arm. The captain stumbled, dropping his shield. He tumbled backward and upon standing produced another long sword.
"I intend to put that to the test."
"We'll see," said Centenius as he began to strike. The captain was strong; stronger than Centenius. He was hardened by a career of combat; every strike would have splintered lesser shields. Had any of them landed, Centenius would likely have fallen. But the boy stood steadfast, deflecting every blow as though it was a child striking him.
Centenius bashed the captain with his shield, sending him stumbling, if only for a moment. He struck low, finding a gap between plates on the captain's right leg. Centenius felt his axe cut through bone and ligament. The captain screamed in pain, dropping the sword from his right hand and losing his balance. Centenius threw down his shield and kicked the captain in the chest.
Gaius attempted to catch himself, but his knee cap was showing through his skin. He fell backward into the sand, dropping his remaining sword. Centenius grabbed him by his armor and lifted him to his knees. He pulled the captain's helmet from his head, and then his own. The captain's left eye was flushed with blood, he was breathing heavily.
"Finish it!" Yarith's voice roared from the edge of the ring. Centenius pulled his dagger from his belt and turned to the king, who nodded in favor. Gaius spit blood on to the sand below and looked Centenius in the eyes. "I wonder who they'll get to execute you."
"We only execute traitors." Centenius snarled as he raised his knife to Gaius' throat. Gaius laughed, "You are your father's son. To die by your hand is truly an honor." Centenius pulled Gaius close, "You don't deserve it." He pulled his blade across Gaius' throat. A stream of warm blood sprayed from the captain's neck covering Centenius' face and armor. He dropped him to the ground.
The crowd erupted in cheers as the slain captain bled out. Centenius began to walk back to Yarith when the trumpets began to blare. The massive doors at the edge of the ring flew open and out walked the king and his many servants. Centenius dropped to his knees and laid his axe at his side. "Hail King Erasmus!"
The king's men circled around Centenius and the king and Yarith approached him. "You are the Son of Arturus are you not?" Centenius kept his eyes at the ground, "I am sire, and it is an honor to be in your service."
"Raise your head, my son" The king said, searching for a spot on Centenius' shoulder not covered in blood to put his hand. "What is your given name?" Centenius raised his eyes and met the king's "Centenius is fine sire. It is the name under which my family has fought for generations."
"Your father has taught you well, and I see Yarith's words of praise were not exaggerated." The king motioned to one of his men who helped Centenius to his feet. "Welcome to my court Centenius." The king took Centenius' hand and raised it with his. The crowd leapt from their seats.
The king and his men exited. The crowd had begun to disperse as Centenius walked back to retrieve his shield. He looked down at the Captain, whose eyes were still open. He knelt down to close them as Yarith approached. "Show no pity to him. He deserves what you have given him." Centenius stood and embraced Yarith, "Thank you sir, for both the axe and the courage."
Yarith nodded and turned to walk away. "Don't go too heavy on the ale tonight, you've got a big day tomorrow." Centenius walked out of the Amphitheatre, turning as he left to see the captain's body being dragged over to a cart containing those of his soldiers. A peasant swept fresh sand over the congealing blood, and with that Gaius was gone. Centenius looked to the king's balcony," In this task, my lord," he turned and walked through the doors from which the King had come, "I will not fail."