This first chapter was originally the first fourteen chapters of my story posted on Everlore, Avenger. I have consolidated those tiny chapters into one large one. Enjoy.
As I write this, my enemy draws near. I believe these are to be my last days in this earthly plane. I write tonight in hope that I will fulfill my destiny.
My name is Faerune Justian, heir to the elfish throne. I was born under the house of Justian in the land of West Karana. My mother, Sophia Justian, died at my birth, while my father was off hunting for gnolls.
So I was left alone, dying in our small cottage. As I was about to breathe my last breath, a golden light washed over my body. It was the hand of Mithaniel Marr. My life was being restored at the mercy of that great god. I was protected, nurtured, and taught for fifteen years.
On the first full moon of the year, the light left with the words, "Go, noble paladin, not to the west, but to the east. Seek out not a friend, but the enemy."
When I could no longer see the light, I appeared amongst the ashes of my home. I later learned that it was razed by a pack of traveling gnolls looking for my father. Buried under the ash, I found some meager rations of food and water, along with my father's trusty blade, the Avenger.
The world ahead is unknown to me, but with Marr on my side, I need not fear.
I was struck with vigor as I set off to the east. Crossing the seemingly endless West Karana, I decided I should cross the Northern Karana and head for Rivervale, the halfling city. I had heard that it was a fairly neutral town, so I hoped that could lead me to my enemy's home.
Just before I reached the human outpost of High Keep, I was ambushed. It was the middle of the night, and I was sound asleep in a local tavern when I awoke to the sound of a corpse hitting the floor. I went to draw my sword when I was crushed in the back of my skull.
I awoke the next morning on a ship, heading for Marr knows where. I was surrounded by the foulest of beasts. They were green, covered in scales; a long, winding tail was protruding from their backs. Their speech was slurred; their language native.
I knew there was nothing I could do to escape, so I rose to try and reason with them. I said, "Greetings…I am…Faerune…Justian…" I was unable to finish my introduction since several blades were at my throat.
I heard one of them whisper, " Thisss sssoft ssskin ssspeaksss common. He might have overheard our plansss. Dissspossse of him!"
As they were about to devour me alive, I shouted "Wait! What have I done to deserve a death so cruel? Let the ocean be my grave, not the pits of your stomachs!"
So these lizard men, these Iksar as I later found out, made me walk the plank. I was able to swim to a small island. Using my sword, I made a raft sufficient enough for travel. After four grueling months of drifting, I ended up on the barren coast of the Desert of Ro. Dehydrated, I collapsed on the shore and was picked up by a group of traveling minstrels. They agreed to care for me until we reached Freeport, then I would be on my own.
Freeport is a busy city. All the noise, all the excitement, it can really get to your head fast. I was walking to the Temple of Marr, the Freeport Paladin headquarters, when merchants surrounded me. They all wanted to sell me something: food, armor, someone even wanted to sell me something called Fuzzlecutter Formula 5000. I kept trying to tell them that I wasn't interested, but they refused to leave.
Finally, some North Freeport guards broke up the commotion. One of them nudged me with his elbow, "You gotta use force for some of these buffoons. May I ask your name, son? Are you from around here?" I told them who I was and why I had come here.
"Paladin, aye? This one ain't lyin'," the other guard exclaimed. "I can see Marr in his eyes. Faded, but there waiting to be awoken."
"Right this way, young chap!" a hermit-like man told me. "Me name iz Colrayne Silvanis, leader of the paladin's of Marr. Ah, yes, I see it, too. This one musta been truly impacted by the good lord. He'll make a fine paladin. But first you'll need some training, aye? Dun want ya goin' out without some experience in battle, aye…aye?"
"Yes, sir," I replied hesitantly. His demeanor was odd, but nonetheless, I could tell this…Colrayne knew what he was doing.
He brought me to the temple and showed me to my room. It wasn't much, but completely better than the raft.
That nigh I couldn't sleep. I wished that tomorrow would come sooner so I could begin my training. I stepped out of my room and onto the balcony to get some fresh air when I heard chatter coming from behind the temple.
It was another new recruit, Abram I believe he was called. He seemed quiet during our studies, almost worried, almost anxious. It looked like he was talking to the wall. I couldn't decipher his words.
He then removed his arm plate and reached for the wall. I was about to call out to him, thinking he might be sleep walking, when a tattoo glowed on his arm. It bore a crest. I had never seen it before so I assumed it was his family crest.
Then something shocking happened. The wall began to swirl, mold and produce an arm. I heard a raspy voice in the wind. All I was able to truly here was, "…done…brother…end…oppression…soon…"
Suddenly, a strong gust of wind blew across the balcony and a vase fell from its pedestal and broke on the floor. Then strands of blue mana surrounded my body.
The training was fairly easy at first, but as time went on, it became much tougher to keep up with the rest of pack.
I could see that Abram was doing very well, but he still seemed nervous. He couldn't keep steady during archery. As a matter of fact, he almost hit one of our masters in the ear.
I was excellent when it came to fencing. I even beat Colrayne.
About mid-afternoon, I was able to start learning my spells. Boy, was that a headache. But when I spoke the words correctly, and that mana shot from my fingers, I was on top of the world.
Night came fast, and I was dead tired. I fell asleep as soon as I hit the bed.
I had a dream. I was in a grassy plain. Fire leapt from every direction. A huge tornado of fire appeared in the distance. As it got closer, I felt the hairs on my neck singe from the unbearable heat. Out of the blazing inferno stepped a flaming figure. It was the Burning Prince, Solusek Ro. He spoke, "Wake up, young paladin. Your time to die is not my hands!"
With those words, I quickly rose from my slumber. My room was engulfed in flames. Outside my window, I could see the Freeport Militia, along with Abram, dousing our temple with oil. "Fall in the fire's of hell, heathens!" they chanted, "You will fall at the hand of Sir Lucan D'Lere!"
I knew that I must act fast if I were to save anyone. I immediately headed for Colrayne's room. I opened the door and smothered with smoke. I managed to find his body after a few moments. He was unconscious and not breathing.
I tried to exit back through the door, but the flames were too high. The only other exit was the window, so I reared back and dashed towards it. I dove head first, Colrayne's body at my chest, and crashed through the glass. I hit the ground with a ton of force, but was able to keep my stride.
I made my way into the tunnels behind the temple. I placed Colrayne on the floor and fainted from exhaustion.
I awoke next morning to the cries of women. Hundred of wives were wailing at the loss of their husbands.
As I appeared out of the shadows, a hush came over the crowd. They all seemed to stared at me. Their ominous eyes felt like the world on my shoulders, crushing me down into the red earth.
No one dared to speak until a peasant rose from the back. "Traitor!" he shouted. "Heathen!" he claimed. "It was his betrayal that caused the devastation you see today. It was because of him that Colrayne Silvanis is dead! Kill him! He does not deserve the mercy of the court!"
The crowd was driven mad by this man's speech. I was immersed by the locals and beaten until an inch of death when a voice called out from a noble. It was the next in line to become the head of paladin nobility. His name was Abraham Marrlan, or Abram for short.
"Please, disperse, you angry mob! This man does not deserve death! He deserves worse! Faerune Justian! I hereby exile you from the city of Freeport! Your name will be forgotten; you will only be known as a ronin, warrior wanderer who betrayed his land! And last, you will no longer be worthy of calling our beloved god of Valor, Mithaniel Marr, your lord! You have one day to gather your possessions. Meet us at the southern exit tomorrow at noon. I dare you to be late!"
Before I was able to defend myself, he had already rode out of my sight. So I was left to gather my sword, my few rations left, and my thoughts. This betrayal happened so soon in my life, all I could think of was revenge. Yet, with those thoughts, I could feel Marr's hold weaken ever so slightly.
Noon the next day, I saw Abram dressed in the ceremonial induction armor. His promotion was earlier this morning. As I passed by, I could see a fire burning in his eyes. The fire of change, within Freeport and within me, was coming.
I began my journey of shame in the barren Desert of Ro, the same place I was picked up only one month ago. I knew that staying in this place would only mean starvation, dehydration, and death.
I went through a tunnel in the mountains to reach the Eastern Commanlands. I had to hide in the sandy area due to the fact that Freeport Militia was strewn about the grassy area. I also knew that I couldn't go to any respectable establishments while my name was still frowned upon. So High keep seemed to be the best place to go.
I spent the night just outside of the Kithcor Woods, since the undead don't take too kindly of travelers.
Next morn, I set off to High Hold Pass. Just as I was about to enter my new home, the guards nearby besieged me. "Wait just a moment young traveler. We had heard that a traitor of Marr is afoot. Tell us your name."
I had to think quickly. "Faerune…Silvanis." That lie caused Marr's grip to further loosen on my heart.
"Silvanis…oh, Silvanis! I'm sorry, sir, right this way. What brings you to High Hold? We rarely get anyone of your prestige 'round here."
"Diplomatic duties in Halas. Those barbarian bastards have been giving us the shaft on the winter wolf pelts."
"Well, I hope you enjoy your stay." The guard returned to his post.
"Thank you." I replied.
I slept at the same tavern that I was abducted from before. This time though, a greater atrocity occurred.
I dreamt a dream that night. I was walking through the most beautiful garden. The ground was covered in gold. I looked down at my feet and saw that they were slowly sinking into the ground. I struggled to stay on top of the earth, but it seemed for every inch closer to the top I got, I would drop a foot to the bottom. The earth turned to mud and covered my body. I began falling in an endless pit. The air around me was blacker than black. I couldn't even see my hand in front of my face. I finally landed in the heat of a bloody battle. I was surrounded by Iksar and another unknown beast. I turned to the left in time to see an unknown archer notching an arrow onto his bow. He pulled the string back, cried out in a deafening screech, and released the arrow.
I awoke again in another cold sweat.
I was lucky. A blizzard had blown through over night and cut off all paths to and from Halas. That allowed my lie to hold up and a reason to stay in High Keep. I got up from my sleep and staggered downstairs.
The barkeep called out to me, "Eh, Faerune, you seem nervous. Is there anything wrong?"
"Matter of fact, yes," I replied. "I heard a terrible screech last night. You know anything 'bout that?
"Crazy goblins, probably trying to escape from their mine."
The goblins gave me an idea. Revenge was still on my mind, but I would need some mercenaries to stand a chance. Goblins aren't strong or smart enough to fight a quick in-and-out objective battle, but perhaps they could lead me to stronger mercenaries.
At night, I snuck out of my room and down into the mining tunnels. I placed a dagger on the goblin kings throat and whispered into his ear, "Wake up, you pawn."
He awoke with a startle, and shouted orders to his royal guards in goblin speech. "Do you speak common?" I asked when he realized that I had the advantage.
"Yes, human," he replied. "All creature of Brell speak common. What in the world do you want?"
"Tell me where I can find mercenaries!" I demanded.
"Dakor docks, in the Overthere, on the lost continent of Kunark." He nervously replied. "Many evilly aligned races have taken hold there."
"Thank you." I said. Then I nonchalantly slit his throat. The guards lunged at me, but I quaffed an invisibility potion and escaped.
I did not know of the ship, the Bloated Belly, so I believed the only way to reach these Dakor docks was by the Maiden's Voyage. So I used the tunnels underneath Freeport to reach my ship to Faydwer.
After I boarded, I met up with a few other vagabonds. We drank and fished off the side of the boat for a while.
A High Elf walked up to me. "Sir, may I ask where are you going?"
"Fironia Vie," I replied. "I hear the big game hunting is exquisite." She was a looker, so I decided to tell her my name.
"Oh Tunare! It's a Silvanis! Why didn't you say so in the first place?"
"I was trying to be modest. The years away from Faydwer have not been to kind to my memory. When we reach the docks, can you lead me to Felwithe?" She was honored.
We reached the docks around two o'clock the next day. The walk was pleasant. The woman and I talked about the city. She told me that Fironia Vie herself would be in town for my arrival.
As we got closer to the city, I could see four massive white columns reaching for the sky, closing in on a central point. The elf told me that when the moon, Luclin, aligns with the central point, that people can be transported to its surface.
I entered the city and was immersed in its glory. Everyone seemed content, everyone was happy. It began to sicken me.
A guard stopped my progress. "Sir, the council wishes to see you."
The council was a group of four elfin lords: one magician, one enchanter, one wizard, and a paladin. They asked how could a human bear the name of Silvanis.
"Though my father was a wise man, he was unable to keep his hands off the Freeport night life," I replied. I heard a murmur. They told me if I were to have the throne that I must prove myself.
"A Teir'dal presence has been spotted on the continent. If you wish to become king, defeat this outpost of evil."
I set off for Fironia Vie in spring. The trip was simple enough. Board at the coast, ferry to the Maiden's Voyage.
The massive sails on this behemoth were unveiled before my eyes, and we took off with the jet stream wind. I could see all sorts of fish and beasts of the sea riding our current.
The sails allowed what should have been a weeklong trip to take only a day. We arrived at the docks about noon. I didn't plan on staying in the Vie for long, yet as soon as I set foot off the ship, I was greeted by the head of the paladin estate. "Silvanis, greetings! How was Antonica?"
"Bland," I replied, "nothing like the beauty of Faydwer."
"Would you like me to show you around?" he asked.
I declined. "Nay, I came here for the big game hunting. Which way to the Dreadlands?" He pointed to the west. I thanked him and was on my way.
At midnight, I found the tunnel to the Lands. A guard was positioned nearby. He told me that the undead Iksar king, Venril Sathir, was building an undead army. He wouldn't allow me to pass.
I shrugged and turned back. I took forty paces, climbed a nearby tree, notched an arrow, and fired.
My aim was true! It hit the guard in the bare spot between his helm and his breastplate. He was bleeding profusely, but still alive, as I walked by. I dragged him towards the wall and strangled him with a drachnid spider web.
After he died, I moved forward, across the Dreadlands, across the Frontier Mountains, and across the Sarnak infested Overthere.
I was walking along the wall when I caught a figure in the corner of my eye. I was shocked. It was straight from my dream. The unknown beasts were Sarnak!
After the revelation I experienced, I saw the walls of the docks appear out of the fog. I quaffed another invisibility potion and snuck past its defenses.
I searched throughout the houses and finally found one with a host of evil persons: Ogre, Dark Elf, rogue Humans, Paniellian Erudites, Trolls, and a lone Iksar.
I stepped into the middle of the room and unveiled myself. Each of the persons drew their weapons. "Halt!" I pronounced. "I am Faerune Justian, destroyer of the Temple of Marr in Freeport! I have come here to tell you of grave news. An elfish army, led by me, will come at night to this establishment exactly two fortnights from now. They are expecting to catch you all off guard, but I am here to help you catch them!"
We set off from the Oasis of Marr at dawn. Ironic it seems that I set off to do my foulest deed yet on the coast of my former deity.
It was dusk before we reached Kunark's coast. The massive ships we used to travel across the Timorous Deep would be trapped by the many sand barges along the coast, so we sectioned off into smaller boats. Each crew consisted of an officer and six men. More than four hundred boats were on the seas that night.
I told the crew I was governing to turn to the left, away from the main group. They were nervous but followed my orders. Insubordination is considered treason in the elfish arm, which is punishable by exile.
As they turned back towards the bank, well away from the coming doom, we heard a scream.
The large clay golems that normally guarded the outside walls emerged from the watery depths, creating a tsunami. More than half the fleet were capsized, destroyed, or sunk in that single push.
The good elves, seeing that they had lost their initiative, turned back from the main ships. They saw a horrific sight. Several drow were standing atop the wooden beasts with torches in hand. In the black night, all you could see of them saw the torches, their eyes, and the evil grin fixed on their faces. With a loud cry, the Teir'dal lit the sails of the ship and jumped into the water.
Panic overcame the elfish army, and it became mob rule. Bloodshed was everywhere as the Wood and High Elves fought each other for the shore. Many drowned before even seeing dry land; others who had already been wounded we devoured by patrolling sharks. The few to make it to shore were cut down by evil.
My crew looked in horror. "How did they know?" one asked. "How did they know our every move, our every plan? How did they know!?"
I looked towards the ground, removed my helmet, and looked at the crew. I began to chuckle, but it quickly escalated to an uncontrollable laughter. "Because I told them!" I replied.
I unsheathed my sword and decapitated a crewman. One reached for his sword but I quickly struck him down. Several tried to jump ship, but I picked off most of them with my bow.
One lone soldier was left cowering in the corner. I took out my final arrow, notched it on the bowstring, and placed it on his forehead. "Why did you betray us?" he shakily asked.
I answer in one word. "Revenge." I released the arrow and heard the crack of his skull. Victory!
I rowed the boat to shore. The bodies of my enemies were strewn about the ground. Even in the night, I could see the bold red color of blood covering the ground.
I walked towards the docks expecting to here cheers of victory, but war still raged on. I unsheathed my Avenger, no, my Shadowy Avenger, expecting the worst. As if someone had read my mind, the worst came.
The lone Iksar had tipped off his commander-in-chief of our plan, most importantly that the clay golems would not be on their normal posts.
They caught us with our pants down. It wasn't a battle; it was a slaughter.
I rushed in to help, but it was hopeless. The Iksar had already mutilated our necromancers and magicians who controlled the various minions guarding our camps.
Few prisoners were taken. I was lucky enough to be one of them. Except, luck, isn't the right word. I was more cursed enough to be one of them. For nine grueling months, I worked the fields and mines of Kunark, unable to gain my freedom.
I had heard that some of the drow were planning on revolting against their slave masters. Some of the field workers were also called to be servants in the house of the emperor. Their plan was to unfold at dinnertime. After his meal, he asks for a glass of wine. Naturally, he would have a servant test some of the wine. The tester, most likely a slave Teir'dal, would take a sip and spit in a small packet of poison. The emperor would drink the wine, swallow the package, and die soon afterward. When the bell strikes twelve, the slaves would rise up against their masters during the confusion.
I had seen the Iksar in battle and knew that they would be much more powerful allies than these filthy Dark Elves. I tipped off the Iksar to their plan.
They knew exactly what to do. They set up more guards at the mining camps and chose an Iksar to be the tester. Before the slave servant could warn the others, the clock had already struck twelve. The slaves attacked and were almost immediately put down.
I was freed for saving the emperor's life.
I left Cabilis for about a month to figure out my plan, and then returned to the Iksar capital. I knew to gain their trust I would have to enlist into their army.
They are brutal bastards. The first mission they gave my platoon was to take care of the Iksar fortress in the Lake of Ill Omen. The Recruits were easy enough. We didn't suffer any causalities.
We had swiftly reached the throne room. Sarnak were everywhere. A massive wooden table was meticulously placed in the center of the room. It was covered from end to end with festive foods. The emperor sat on his throne with two ceremonial guards by his side.
Everyone in the chamber halted what he or she was doing when we appeared. They withdrew all sorts of weapons: swords, axes, daggers, and hammers, bows of all shapes and sizes, and enormous spears. We formed our phalanx expecting a head on charge, but to my astonishment, the enemy dispersed.
We slowly crept into the chamber to see where they had gone. Two of my Iksar brethren fell into a pit trap in front of us. We could hear their screams of agony as they were impaled on the spikes below. Arrows were fired from small slits in the wall, killing two more.
One of the dead was our commanding officer. I took up his colors and ordered our pike men to form a border our casters and archers. Soon a wall of tower shields was surrounding us as we regrouped.
Every few seconds, a Sarnak would appear and try and catch us off guard. The shield would barely spread apart and an arrow would emerge from the slit, killing the menace.
It didn't take the Sarnak long to figure out our strategy. For three hours, we didn't see a soul. One of the pike men lowered his shield and asked, "Where have thessse beassstsss gone?"
Before I could warn him, a dagger flew from the shadows and dug into his temple. He was stone dead before he hit the floor. In his death, a huge gap was made in the defense. The Sarnak took advantage of this weakness and attack on all sides.
I tried to get the pike men to compensate for the gap, but they were lightning fast. I ordered our necromancers and magicians to create their pets. Behind me, the Sarnak had taken out two of our archers.
I unsheathed my sword and, with a deafening battle cry, charged forward. I brought my Shadowy Avenger down upon the brow of a Sarnak conscript. I deflected a blow from the right with my shield and sliced open an enemy to my left. My platoon saw my strength and rebuilt theirs, charging into the fray.
A screaming Sarnak was relentlessly attacking me, beating me into a corner. I blocked a few of his barrages with my shield, but he knocked it clean out of my hands.
I closed my eyes and was ready for the mortal blow, but I heard a crack against the wall. One of my pike men had impaled the Sarnak into the wall.
I notched an arrow and fired it at one of their adherents. He released his spell, diseasing over half my men, then died from the impact of my shot. Several of my men dropped to the floor, and began to convulse. I had to ignore them.
I rushed into another dining hall. I turned to the left in time to see a Sarnak archer notching an arrow onto his bow. He pulled the string back, cried out in a deafening screech, and released the arrow.
Death was coming. It came just as in my dream, in the form an arrow. Then, a flash of light, a dagger flew across the room, slicing the arrow from its guidance feathers. Without them, the arrow took a nosedive, clanging against the stone floor.
Before I could react, a sharp blow was delivered to my head. I was unconscious again, just as I was in my first meeting with the Iksar.
I awoke next to a warm campfire. A man dressed in black was roasting a cockatrice over the open flame.
I stood up and began to yell, "Why did you remove me from battle!?"
He answered without taking his eyes off the fire. "You and your men were losing. If I hadn't saved you, those Sarnak would be feasting on your entrails right now."
"I didn't need to be saved! I would rather die with a blade in my hand next to my brethren than flee like a faithless coward!"
"They are not your brethren, Faerune Justian!"
I was shocked; he knew my true name. "Who are you?" I unsheathed a dagger and placed it on his neck. "Tell me," I demanded, "or I swear to Thule, I'll slit your throat!"
The man grabbed the dagger and snapped the blade clean off. He grinded the blade in his hand, turning it into dust. He opened his palm, and the dust fell out like thousands of pieces of glitter. "In time, you will learn who I am. I saved you today, because you still have a purpose. It was not a coincidence that I was there. Your place in history is not a lowly sergeant in a lizard army." He sighed and removed the bird from the rotisserie. "I have said too much already. Rest, for tomorrow, we travel east."
I appeared in a moonlit grotto, stars glistening in the sky. I was following my captor through a clump of trees. I could hear the wind whistling through the leaves, as if they were calling me. "Faerune!" I jumped. "Wait right here!" my captor ordered. "I sense a dragon afoot!" He then took his black cloak and covered his body. He vanished into thin air.
I waited for his call, but it never came. Then a massive dragon appeared before me. I reached for my sword, and set up for battle. But as soon as I fully gripped the sword, it turned to dust.
The dragon lowered its head. I prepared my last rites. But to my astonishment, it spoke. "Hail, Faerune, Bringer of Doom. I am the poison dragon Trakanon. Do not be afraid, you are in no danger. You are the child of Marr, are you not?"
I was confused. "My mother died during labor, and I never knew my father."
The dragon bellowed, "Oh, you don't know of your noble birth. Your mother died because she was impregnated by the god, Mithaniel Marr. You are his only son. But it is not you which has a prophecy; it is not you that will bring the doom.
The sword you were carrying is a noble sword as well. You knew from the moment you held it that this sword was different."
"Then why did you destroy it?" I asked.
"Did I?" he replied. "Look at your sheath."
I kept one eye on the dragon as I felt for my scabbard. My sword had returned. I took it out and re-gripped it. The blade became a pale blue. It seemed to be coated in something. I removed my glove to feel the blade, when it disintegrated again. "Why is this happening? Is this your doing, Trakanon?" I shouted.
"Wait for it. Patience is a virtue," he replied.
I sighed and looked down at my handle. It seemed different. The once black opals that covered the handle were now fire emeralds. My hands began to radiate with heat, increasing every few seconds.
It was almost too hot to handle when the heat dissipated. A massive column of flame erupted from where my blade used to be.
Trakanon bellowed, "Your Avenger was never meant to be wield by a man of evil. Now that the evil is fading, you can use its true strength. It has been birthed into its true state. Paladin! You are now holding the Fiery Avenger!"
I awoke from my slumber. I felt for my blade. Cold steel. I looked at the handle. Black opals. It was all a dream.
"Come on, Faerune!" my captor called out. "We must move if we wish to reach the Dreadlands by nightfall."
