Chapter II: The Horde
It was dawn five days after his arrival in Izlude before he walked out of the Byalan Island Dungeon. He spent five days and nights in the dungeon merely to prepare himself for the journey Ahasuerus reminded him of. He did not sleep, nor did he eat in that time to prepare his body and mind for a journey that would lead him to his destiny, his chosen destiny. Every man has but one destiny, he always believed, but it was also up to that man to make a new one for himself if his previous one did not suit him.
After almost a week underground fighting monsters every single moment of his short stay there, he found himself surprisingly refreshed as he stepped back into the Izlude harbor. It was first light; he needed to find a merchant or shop he could sell his spoils to. He needed the money for his short trip to Prontera, the capital, to enlist as a knight. After that short stay in Byalan, he felt confident that he was now ready to become a knight both in body and mind. All that was left for him to do in Izlude was stock up on some basic rations he needed, then he would be off.
As he approached the central square he found several people already walking about, but could not find any open shops. He then decided to make due with the local weapons dealer, although it would get him a much lower price than he had hoped. As he left the building of the arms dealer a passing female acolyte caught his eye. He did not know for what reason, but decided it must have been his lack of sleep. He made the short walk to the town's exit where he headed north in Prontera's direction. If all went well, he would get there early and have enough time for a quick nap as he already waited in line. As he was nearing the southern entrance of Prontera he once again came across the female acolyte. Only this time she needed help because she apparently disturbed a Chon-chon hive and was being chased by quite a few.
He drew his sword, ready to take them on, and motioned for the acolyte to run towards him. Not the best creature to test my new skills on, he thought, but at least he would be saving a life. That was what mattered. He took care of them quickly with a decisive slash meant to slice each of them in half. That was all it took to end her current troubles. She came back to heal him, but he signaled her not to bother. She was smiling at him as he picked up his spoils and handed them to her. She politely refused, "Oh no, I could never accept such a gift after being handed my life."
"You owe me nothing," Devlin simply said. "Take them they are of more value to you than me. Return the favor to someone someday, that is all I ask."
"What is your name spirited swordsman?" she asked her rescuer. "I'm Cleo. Nice to meet you on this very fine morning!"
It was indeed a fine morning; the sun began to rise as he began to walk back on his way. He, too, was happy. He would finally become a knight. "Wait, wait, please wait for me," came the distant voice of Cleo. "Are you headed to Prontera? Oh, I know, you must be going there for your knighthood. Hmm, it's still early, but I think I can get you in as soon as we get there." This was becoming a very pleasant morning for Devlin; he never would have expected such luck. Things were getting brighter and brighter not only in the outside, but also in Devlin's thoughts. The old man was right; he was going to have his destiny.
As they reached the Knights' main recruitment office Cleo told him to wait outside. She came back out with a distinguished looking knight following her. "That's him uncle," she said cheerfully. "He wants to become a knight but I think he has to go somewhere in a hurry. Could you knight him before the offices opens?"
"Of course, of course," Cleo's uncle replied heartily. "Anything for the man who saved my niece!"
They entered the recruitment offices and began to arrange for Devlin's knighthood. It was a rather quick and simple affair since Devlin has already met all the qualifications. They filed away the documents that were just freshly signed and Devlin was free to roam the world as he wished.
"Now that you're a knight, Sir Devlin," Cleo said eagerly, "could you let me join you in your first adventure into the wild, wide world?"
"No," Devlin said simply. "It is far too dangerous for you to come with me. Do not misunderstand, I appreciate your help and I will repay you one day. But for now, I must handle this alone."
Cleo stared hard into Devlin's impassive face, it revealed nothing. She decided to leave, thinking she could always follow him to where he might wander. As she walked away to blend with the early shoppers she began thinking of this very mysterious knight. Unlike most who made their presence known by the hot air that usually surrounded them, this odd one carried a force that made itself felt even in silence. His features were young, probably no older than 16, but the way he acted made him seem like a veteran warrior to anyone who saw him.
Devlin walked around the main pathway of the city, stopping at every other merchant's stall to look for weapons and armor that tailored to his very specific needs. After about an hour he felt he was properly equipped and supplied to make his solitary trek to the Orc Village.
As Devlin exited the Western Gate of Prontera, Cleo followed in what she considered a safe distance. If he ever needed an acolyte to heal him she would be close enough to help, yet at the same time far enough not to be sensed. She wondered where this young knight was headed as most of the land further west only sheltered creatures of little or no significance to him, except of course for the Orc Village, but that was preposterous. Going there anytime today would be a self-sentence to an early grave. It was the Orcs' Day of Trial. The day when all Orcs are at their most hostile because of their desire for survival. Anyone who enters the Orcs' territories, on that day, are never expected to return.
Devlin knew he was being followed, he could sense it; it was a part of his instincts that kept him alive. He also knew who was following him, the female acolyte with long blond hair, Cleo. Because of this he often had to walk through the woods to loose her among the trees. After several detours, he was finally sure he had left her far behind. Now nothing would hold him back as he would have his revenge on the murderous and barbaric race that killed his parents.
He stood just outside the Orc Village's territory, mentally preparing himself for the long battle ahead. He was prepared. He took a step forward and knew there was no turning back. He now stood on Orc territory.
As he walked past the wooden barriers of the Orc Village he saw a huge group dancing as if readying for war. The tribe was here. Their downfall, no, the downfall of their race had just begun with the deaths of two Orc Warriors. He knew he was going to make this the most violent and painful personal war he will ever wage.
The blade of his sword was lightly coated in Orc blood; the two warriors had quickly fallen in his hands. He chopped off the head of the one lying closer to him and crushed its skull with a stomp of his foot. This was an insult; he then swung his sword towards the large group watching him to sprinkle them in their own blood. That was a challenge.
For the next few hours he deliberately dealt mortal wounds that would surely cause death to any Orc, but not a swift and painless one but rather a torturous, slow and painful death. The fields were now a deep crimson in color, it changed the appearance of this village so radically it would have passed as hell and no one would doubt it. The few huts found in the village were being individually torched by Devlin as he visited the lying corpses of the Orcs. To those that still lived, he would slash continuously until it no longer roared from the pain. Some had their skulls smashed as they tried to crawl their way to the nearest axe within its reach. The ground forever soiled by the Orcs' blood was now no longer recognizable. Splinters of axe handles, axe blades, helms, and so fort were scattered all over a vast field. The ground oozed with the blood of fallen Orcs each time Devlin took a step. His wrath was now appeased, but he still had to clean up his mess.
As he began the long task of gathering all the corpses he separated valuable spoils that they may not be wasted. He gathered them into a huge pile of dismembered bodies, appendages, and bones. To show he no longer harbored any hatred for them he burned their bodies that their dusts remain together even though their bodies may not.
As he began to walk away to gather his spoils of war, Cleo entered the village in a rush. She could not believe her eyes, a huge pile of Orcs were burning and the odor it produced was the most repulsive she could ever remember, blood saturated the land, and a dark cloud of smoke shielded the village from the nearly setting sun. Weapons strewn and scattered everywhere and Devlin covered in sweat and blood. She began to weep; the carnage the land witnessed today was only a testament to this young man's abilities.
She never saw or heard it coming. The hurdled axe of the Orc Hero had hit her with such a loud thud that Devlin was sure it had hit her spine. An expression of pure shock appeared on her gentle face as she slowly fell over from the impact of the blow, but this attack on his new world only served to renew his anger. It was an act of aggression that defeated its purpose of revenge; it only sealed the fate of the Orc Hero. He threw his sword at the Orc Hero like a javelin which hit him squarely between the eyes. As its massive body hit the ground Devlin already bolted to where Cleo lay motionless. He grabbed her by the shoulders and looked at her face. He took her upon his arms and ran in the direction of Prontera. He needed to get there, to Prontera, he needed her to live.
It was dawn five days after his arrival in Izlude before he walked out of the Byalan Island Dungeon. He spent five days and nights in the dungeon merely to prepare himself for the journey Ahasuerus reminded him of. He did not sleep, nor did he eat in that time to prepare his body and mind for a journey that would lead him to his destiny, his chosen destiny. Every man has but one destiny, he always believed, but it was also up to that man to make a new one for himself if his previous one did not suit him.
After almost a week underground fighting monsters every single moment of his short stay there, he found himself surprisingly refreshed as he stepped back into the Izlude harbor. It was first light; he needed to find a merchant or shop he could sell his spoils to. He needed the money for his short trip to Prontera, the capital, to enlist as a knight. After that short stay in Byalan, he felt confident that he was now ready to become a knight both in body and mind. All that was left for him to do in Izlude was stock up on some basic rations he needed, then he would be off.
As he approached the central square he found several people already walking about, but could not find any open shops. He then decided to make due with the local weapons dealer, although it would get him a much lower price than he had hoped. As he left the building of the arms dealer a passing female acolyte caught his eye. He did not know for what reason, but decided it must have been his lack of sleep. He made the short walk to the town's exit where he headed north in Prontera's direction. If all went well, he would get there early and have enough time for a quick nap as he already waited in line. As he was nearing the southern entrance of Prontera he once again came across the female acolyte. Only this time she needed help because she apparently disturbed a Chon-chon hive and was being chased by quite a few.
He drew his sword, ready to take them on, and motioned for the acolyte to run towards him. Not the best creature to test my new skills on, he thought, but at least he would be saving a life. That was what mattered. He took care of them quickly with a decisive slash meant to slice each of them in half. That was all it took to end her current troubles. She came back to heal him, but he signaled her not to bother. She was smiling at him as he picked up his spoils and handed them to her. She politely refused, "Oh no, I could never accept such a gift after being handed my life."
"You owe me nothing," Devlin simply said. "Take them they are of more value to you than me. Return the favor to someone someday, that is all I ask."
"What is your name spirited swordsman?" she asked her rescuer. "I'm Cleo. Nice to meet you on this very fine morning!"
It was indeed a fine morning; the sun began to rise as he began to walk back on his way. He, too, was happy. He would finally become a knight. "Wait, wait, please wait for me," came the distant voice of Cleo. "Are you headed to Prontera? Oh, I know, you must be going there for your knighthood. Hmm, it's still early, but I think I can get you in as soon as we get there." This was becoming a very pleasant morning for Devlin; he never would have expected such luck. Things were getting brighter and brighter not only in the outside, but also in Devlin's thoughts. The old man was right; he was going to have his destiny.
As they reached the Knights' main recruitment office Cleo told him to wait outside. She came back out with a distinguished looking knight following her. "That's him uncle," she said cheerfully. "He wants to become a knight but I think he has to go somewhere in a hurry. Could you knight him before the offices opens?"
"Of course, of course," Cleo's uncle replied heartily. "Anything for the man who saved my niece!"
They entered the recruitment offices and began to arrange for Devlin's knighthood. It was a rather quick and simple affair since Devlin has already met all the qualifications. They filed away the documents that were just freshly signed and Devlin was free to roam the world as he wished.
"Now that you're a knight, Sir Devlin," Cleo said eagerly, "could you let me join you in your first adventure into the wild, wide world?"
"No," Devlin said simply. "It is far too dangerous for you to come with me. Do not misunderstand, I appreciate your help and I will repay you one day. But for now, I must handle this alone."
Cleo stared hard into Devlin's impassive face, it revealed nothing. She decided to leave, thinking she could always follow him to where he might wander. As she walked away to blend with the early shoppers she began thinking of this very mysterious knight. Unlike most who made their presence known by the hot air that usually surrounded them, this odd one carried a force that made itself felt even in silence. His features were young, probably no older than 16, but the way he acted made him seem like a veteran warrior to anyone who saw him.
Devlin walked around the main pathway of the city, stopping at every other merchant's stall to look for weapons and armor that tailored to his very specific needs. After about an hour he felt he was properly equipped and supplied to make his solitary trek to the Orc Village.
As Devlin exited the Western Gate of Prontera, Cleo followed in what she considered a safe distance. If he ever needed an acolyte to heal him she would be close enough to help, yet at the same time far enough not to be sensed. She wondered where this young knight was headed as most of the land further west only sheltered creatures of little or no significance to him, except of course for the Orc Village, but that was preposterous. Going there anytime today would be a self-sentence to an early grave. It was the Orcs' Day of Trial. The day when all Orcs are at their most hostile because of their desire for survival. Anyone who enters the Orcs' territories, on that day, are never expected to return.
Devlin knew he was being followed, he could sense it; it was a part of his instincts that kept him alive. He also knew who was following him, the female acolyte with long blond hair, Cleo. Because of this he often had to walk through the woods to loose her among the trees. After several detours, he was finally sure he had left her far behind. Now nothing would hold him back as he would have his revenge on the murderous and barbaric race that killed his parents.
He stood just outside the Orc Village's territory, mentally preparing himself for the long battle ahead. He was prepared. He took a step forward and knew there was no turning back. He now stood on Orc territory.
As he walked past the wooden barriers of the Orc Village he saw a huge group dancing as if readying for war. The tribe was here. Their downfall, no, the downfall of their race had just begun with the deaths of two Orc Warriors. He knew he was going to make this the most violent and painful personal war he will ever wage.
The blade of his sword was lightly coated in Orc blood; the two warriors had quickly fallen in his hands. He chopped off the head of the one lying closer to him and crushed its skull with a stomp of his foot. This was an insult; he then swung his sword towards the large group watching him to sprinkle them in their own blood. That was a challenge.
For the next few hours he deliberately dealt mortal wounds that would surely cause death to any Orc, but not a swift and painless one but rather a torturous, slow and painful death. The fields were now a deep crimson in color, it changed the appearance of this village so radically it would have passed as hell and no one would doubt it. The few huts found in the village were being individually torched by Devlin as he visited the lying corpses of the Orcs. To those that still lived, he would slash continuously until it no longer roared from the pain. Some had their skulls smashed as they tried to crawl their way to the nearest axe within its reach. The ground forever soiled by the Orcs' blood was now no longer recognizable. Splinters of axe handles, axe blades, helms, and so fort were scattered all over a vast field. The ground oozed with the blood of fallen Orcs each time Devlin took a step. His wrath was now appeased, but he still had to clean up his mess.
As he began the long task of gathering all the corpses he separated valuable spoils that they may not be wasted. He gathered them into a huge pile of dismembered bodies, appendages, and bones. To show he no longer harbored any hatred for them he burned their bodies that their dusts remain together even though their bodies may not.
As he began to walk away to gather his spoils of war, Cleo entered the village in a rush. She could not believe her eyes, a huge pile of Orcs were burning and the odor it produced was the most repulsive she could ever remember, blood saturated the land, and a dark cloud of smoke shielded the village from the nearly setting sun. Weapons strewn and scattered everywhere and Devlin covered in sweat and blood. She began to weep; the carnage the land witnessed today was only a testament to this young man's abilities.
She never saw or heard it coming. The hurdled axe of the Orc Hero had hit her with such a loud thud that Devlin was sure it had hit her spine. An expression of pure shock appeared on her gentle face as she slowly fell over from the impact of the blow, but this attack on his new world only served to renew his anger. It was an act of aggression that defeated its purpose of revenge; it only sealed the fate of the Orc Hero. He threw his sword at the Orc Hero like a javelin which hit him squarely between the eyes. As its massive body hit the ground Devlin already bolted to where Cleo lay motionless. He grabbed her by the shoulders and looked at her face. He took her upon his arms and ran in the direction of Prontera. He needed to get there, to Prontera, he needed her to live.