Quest 10: Ancestry
"Head injuries are a funny thing. Sometimes, you wake up right as rain. Sometimes you've got a headache that'll make you wish you were dead. And sometimes you don't wake up at all. My advice? Don't get hit in the head."
I opened my eyes, expecting to find out what lies beyond Death. Instead, I found myself before a colossal stone throne, sized for a king the size of a mountain. I could only stare in awe and wonder at the sheer scope of it - and suddenly, the chair was filled. A giant, a true Agallan giant, my ancestors, sat before me. No tattoos adorned his skin, and his eyes burned with a fire I knew all too well. Rage.
"YOU." The word struck me like a physical blow, driving me to my knees. The markings of my flesh were searing, torturous agony, a punishment long since earned - and, in my book, long since rendered obsolete. "YOUR KIND ARE SCUM. TRAITORS. HOW DARE YOU STAND BEFORE ME AND PROFANE THIS PLACE." The weight of ages bore down upon me, threatening to crush me with the magnitude of our history. Every Half-Giant knows, instinctively, what happened, though I suppose posterity compels me to record the story regardless.
In the days of Azunai, a thousand years ago, the Agallan Giants faced a choice: They could retreat into the mountains to hide from Zaramoth's fury, or they could stand with Azunai the Defender and try to preserve the world. They were split on the matter, and of those who stayed, the greatest smith of them all forged the legendary Shield of Azunai. But of course, we all know how that ended. When the Sword of Zaramoth struck the Shield of Azunai, the blade proved mightier, and the resulting cataclysm marked the end of the Second Age. But what became of the Giants, you may wonder? Well, those who stayed loyal were wiped out in the devastating blast, but in their final moments, they laid a curse upon their cowardly brethren, to strip them of their strength and size. All Half-Giants now are descendants of those cursed renegades - and the markings on our skin are the result of that curse, still branding us for all to see.
Some of us bear this guilt with stoic complacency, but many - such as myself - feel that there is no need for such shame. Why should I be held responsible for the actions of my ancestors, a thousand years ago? I refuse to feel any guilt or shame for their choices. I choose to live honorably - for the most part - and I will not allow myself to be defined by matters long since settled. And so, looking into his eyes, seeing the rage in the Agallan before me, I responded in kind, with a lifetime of rage all my own.
"How dare I? How dare you! You judge a man without knowing his heart, his deeds, his secrets? Go back to Hell, Agallan, I will not be judged by you or your kind! We may be blood, but you are no family to me, and your horns are chipped and dulled!" This last part, I suppose, will mean little to you races without the proud, magnificent skull decorations we Half-Giants - and indeed, the Agallans before us - enjoy. However, to us, the bit about his horns was a dire insult, and he let loose a bellow of uncontrolled fury.
I felt smug, right until he lifted his right hand, and a mace the size of a barn gleamed in it as he brought it down at me. I stood, fighting the agony, determined to die on my feet - and as it slammed down on me, I awoke, noise and movement all around me in a scarlet haze. Unable to make sense of it all, I did the only thing that made sense: I passed out, distantly aware of my own lack of clothing, and Taar's concerned eyes peering into mine. This time, fortunately, I did not dream.
I awoke more peacefully this time, nestled in a bed in Snowbrook's infirmary. Taar dozed in a chair beside me, and if the bickering outside the door was any indication, the rest of my friends were here as well. I sat up, the ache in my skull forcing me back down, and began coughing, the sound of which roused the Dryad beside me. As she checked me for further injury, I got the rest of the story. After being knocked down by the flying Durvla, I had evidently fought another hour or so, clearing the wall of invaders in a berserk fury before simply pitching over, exhausted. Deru and Vix, ever light on their feet, had shadowed me along the battlements, picking off those foes I had missed and standing guard over me until I could be dragged to safety.
Taar had pushed herself as well, working to heal those who had been injured, and also checking in on me when she had time. It was one of those moments when a small party of Morden-Viir assassins, sent no doubt by their commanders to assassinate the Princess, had climbed in one of the windows. There had been four of them, lightly armed and armored, and thus they lasted only briefly when I rose from my cot, screaming and naked, to kill them. Obviously, I didn't remember any of this, as I had been feverish and muttering about Agallans for an hour before then, but evidently, I had broken two of their necks with my hands, kicked a third out the window, and headbutted the fourth to death. I decided it was best not to talk about my nightmare, considering how many head wounds I had taken in relatively rapid succession. Luckily, Taar had ensured that the medical staff cleaned the Morden blood from my horns.
My friends filed in, poking fun at my weakened condition, and finally Eva herself arrived, bearing the bundled cloth that I knew, deep down, had to contain the third Aegis piece I sought. It wasn't much to look at, but I could feel its power, deep in my bones, and could barely bring myself to focus on Eva's next words. "You saved many lives, and as per our agreement, I entrust you with the Aegis...however, my duty is not yet done. I am to guard the Aegis, to ensure it is used properly, and to protect the lives of the innocent from its power. As such, I will be coming with you on your quest."
It was not a request, I noted, and none of us really had the energy - or any reason - to argue with her. Why would we? A skilled warrior wanted to help us, a veritable force of nature and a Princess at that - and one who would stab anybody that tried to stop her. Even Vix, comedian that he is, didn't try to make a joke of it. That alone should tell you just how serious the situation was. Feeling the eyes of those present on me, I sighed softly. I never wanted to be the leader, dammit. This may have been my quest, but I never intended to become anything more than a man seeking revenge. Fate, it seemed, had funny plans for us. With a properly fitting formality, I thanked her for her assistance, and welcomed her to the party - and then politely asked everybody to get the hell out of my room so I could get dressed. We had a job to do, after all, and we'd had more than enough down time sitting around on our asses. The teleporter in the Transit Wing of the fortress could take us to Kalrathia - and that was where we needed to go. The Morden presence in the city would be problematic, but we figured we could deal with it.
Have I always been that stupid, or was I getting dumber with every head injury?