A bothers tale
"Hello children, gather round Grandpa Goatmasher and listen to his tales of heroism, and great lore." As kids start to gather, young and old alike, Grandpa Goatmasher, the grape fruit champion of the known world, began one of his tales.
Ten tears have been shed, exactly ten, no more no less, for her lost son Dnfnuil. He had been missing for quite some time now, about a month, or has it been. Dnfnuils mother, Laura Goatmasher, was a pound women, broad shoulders, strong legs, pale skin splattered with small brown dots, a curse of the ugly, as they call it. Laura is one of the king's workwomen; they prepare parties, food, and clean the castle. Back in this time women were restricted of many of their commodities they have today. Drinking was a sin, standing up for ones self was the same, and furthermore, leaving ones home to search for ones son was forbidden; only a man could search and find.
The castle was located in a small, rural town named Vikstan, one of the more popular towns. Great soldiers were forged in the ruffian parts of the town, ones that could disarm you and hold a rusty knife to your throat in seconds. Those men, now, where the kings aids and bodyguards, a good choice on his part. The town mostly consisted of farmers and shop owners, who gained there money from selling goods to various travelers on their way to the capitol of our great land, Walsworth.
This is were Dnfnuil works his way into the story, he was only a boy of 17, living on the streets, he ran out of money soon after he ran away from home. To this day Dnfnuil will not reveal how he got out of the village stone walls, watched by not only the troops, but the well known physic seer, which was later hung for being not too insightful in the search for the Kings son.
Dnfnuil now was looking for a job, on his initial interview with the storeowner they could see that he was strong, willing, and broad shouldered like his mother, head full of silky black hair, and the most exposed aspect of him, his birthmark. Dnfnuils birthmark was something that should not have happened, clerics have said, and is quite unlike a brown spot, skin roll, or any other that you may have seen. What it did look like was a tattoo, right across his face, covering the left side and running from top head to lower neck. What was pictured was a fierce dragon, shooting fire down Dnfnuils shirt, other times people say that it is an old man sitting in his chair with a wooden staff, the ball of the staff was were Dnfnuils eye is.
Whatever you may want to see or believe is not of my business, but it does intrigue me to know what you see. Of course, though, this may not be true, the storekeeper thought, I have finally found what looks like an honest worker. The can't be true part, soon became reality. After a couple of nights of hard labor, and free stay at the storekeepers' home, they both woke up to a broken down shop, as if the fiercest of winds had blown only through his house with acidic rain the size of snowballs. All of the swords and armor were if not broken then rusted, in one night, how could this happen. The answer lies with-in the past of Dnfnuil, and the curse on his face.
Dnfnuil knew this and decided to leave without notice. Anytime a person gives comfort to the soul of this reckless warrior, the true berserker emerges midst the night and ruins all his hopes and dreams with that future, or that person. All he could remember from that night, all he ever remembers is being in a somewhat dreamlike world, blind, only hearing the words of a harsh voice, " DON'T LIE, DON'T LIE" what goes on later in the dream is a breaking of what sounds like a stool and a dismissal of childish crying, replaced with a soft gurgle. Waking up from this dream creates the same fate, a broken building, a murdered lover, a missing pet later found mangled and apparently eaten. Nothing new, except he did not have his mother to comfort him, he didn't have anyone.
Alone once more on the path of destruction, this time he thought, I will not destroy, this time he thought, I will not become the demon inside me, this time I thought, I will fight against myself.
Dnfnuil, now being two months into his weary journey for redemption stumbled onto a small village on the outskirts of our land of green. The village, even on this crummy winter morn, was full of life, full of excitement. Mistresses were rushing around in florescent colors of orange, green and red. All the men were drunk with red cheeks, and flowering with laughter. As I stared into the doorway of the village this was all I could see, but I did not wish to enter. As thirsty as I was I did not wish to destroy such beauty, such joy.
Going through the big metal gate, rusted over bars and loose screws made a screeching noise that would arouse anyone from a nights slumber; Dnfnuil caught the attention of some of the folk nearby. At once he knew he shouldn't be there, but the thirst has gotten the best of me. Suddenly, as if a lost boy from the village had just returned after being forgotten, the village stopped. All the joy stopped, all the drinking stopped, the piano heard from the tavern was hung on the last note played, a woman walking, dancing around ceased to move, still on one foot from her latest spin. And as all was quiet, a light bulb went off in my head. As I peered around, I noticed something that was not seen from the distance, pointy ears. Some as long a Viking sword, along with white beards that have seen over 200 years of history, even the children knew it, what has just entered there peaceful village was a horrid monstrosity, something that was not seen for hundreds of years.
"SON", a mother called," Come and eat you haggis!"
A child began to cry breaking the silence that seemed to last for hours. Then, what looked like the oldest elf of the village walked slowly into view, and toward Dnfnuil.
"Coming" the boy said, leaving his play toys behind and following his mother's voice.
The old man said in a husky, hoarse voice," Come warrior, you have much to learn"
As the small child with richly colored clothes sat down his mother told him of little old lady bailey missing from the night before. She spoke with such calmness that made the boy seem to wonder what she was talking about. Old lady bailey is at her home right now, the child was just there.
The old man sat Dnfnuil down, and explained every thing to him. Turns out, he was the elder of the tribe, Rigolous was him name, he knew Dnfnuil was coming and prepared a small journey for the both of them.
"Now please son, please don't act like you know nothing, please" his mothers voice now scared and worried, "I saw you leave last night, I saw you go to old ladies house, and I saw you murder her with a passion in your eyes and then put her into the town sewers, DON'T LIE TO ME!"
Dnfnuil, now realizing what was done to him while he was young, accepted it, he has for a long time now, but now at least he knows whose fault it is. As they settle in for the night on the outskirts of a forest, named the forbidden wood, Dnfnuil drifted into a deep slumber, one that will heal the blind and lead the confused.
"DON'T LIE TO ME!" his mother yelled for the last time, as now the dream drifted into reality, and he was witness to this. Once a blind man, but now he could see.
As the women shook that child, with cussing seeping out of her mouth as if she was foaming from a seizure, her eyes turned wild, and her voice grew hoarser, as if being possessed by a demon. Now she sits on the ground, muffled voices, one of a satanic persona and one of a mother. She killed him, she killed her child, the king's child was dead!
As the hearty headed king ran into his own room, drunk from his son's birthday party, he "was" 3 years old. At once the king stopped, a wild, but surprised look on his face, and dropped his cup. His long red coat of silk was now seeping up the vine from the ground. He just stared, watching his son shake a little here, and a little gurgle from his pierced neck, still having a piece of chair hanging from it. The king did what every rich man would do...take his son to the nearest sorcerer, hoping for the best.
He followed the king; walking behind him carrying his son in hopeful arms. They entered into a black shack, very obvious to any on looker, that this was a place for the dead. As the king carried his son in, the necromancer simply looked at the child, smiling, and thinking of what he could collect for such a ritual even before the king spoke. He simply asked the king a few questions: The child's name, when he died, and how he died. Dnfnuil, now standing in the corner watching, saw into the necromancer's head, he could peer into his mind now and he knew what he had done to the dead boys mother to bring her unto this, he fed her a dream so real, she believed it, she believed that her 3-year-old son killed a person, but really there was no such fate.
With a handsome sack of money being flung across the table, the room fell dark; all sound went into a vortex and was lost. The only thing that could still be heard was the weeping of the mother in the corner, now realizing her heinous act. A circle was drawn around the boy on the floor now. A star was drawn and the boy's body put into separate sections, arms in top left and right, legs in bottom two, and head in the top triangle. Time seemed to stop, all was silent this time around and only the necromancer moved, he reached into the boy's body so easily it was as if he heated his hand and threw it into butter, he pulled out the boys soul. Immediately a new one was thrown into him, from above somewhere it plunged to him as if into an unbroken pool of water.
The boy was standing now, as if new born, not knowing anything. The mother hugged him, kissed him, as the father/king did the same. The boy still knew nothing, now just confused and crying. At that moment I realized who that boy was, I've seen him before, I have seen that scar before. That boy was me.