The Chronicles of Gavain
PROLOGUE
"Closure. A luxury most of us think we have and a hardship most of us never are allowed to endure. It is as a tidal wave of pain, yet a soothing wind of comfort all in one fell blow. Pity to think I myself cannot fathom this." – An excerpt of His Words: The Journeys of Gavain
He stopped, and as the orange skies fell around his senses, he could taste none but dirt and dismay. His mind befell a thought, and as he turned and faced what was there, colors faded away from what used to be bright hues into a more defined black and white. All of the shouts coming to him, the Quadav cries as loud as the Hume's surrounding him, were muddled. There came no difference to him between what was ground and what was air, what was solid and liquid, what was inhaling and exhalation. He could feel nothing.
He looked forward and focused on this moment. He could not move, but his focus was sharper than it ever was. He smiled in the Quadav's face, brought up his hand and buried it into his skull. The pounding of his fists shook those around his proximity with their force and sound, and the Quad fell in a mighty fury, his temples marred with dismay and his face broken. The maddening crowd stopped, and their blades fell as they looked upon Gavain with a sudden horror.
Not a soul could remember much that day. A soldier stepped in to grab the weakened Gavain, and Gavain shrugged him off.
"Keep away from me," he uttered. "I am in no need of assistance."
He limped away slowly, the blade in between his sternum exposed on both sides, the hilt nearly lost inside his stomach. The Quad's all stared in fear at this man who came at them slowly, arms raised.
"What are you waiting for!" he screamed.
They dropped their weapons and fled. An entire legion of Quad's marched away, with the sound of a herd of beasts running from a predator. Gavain stood alone.
This is his story. The story of Gavain is not one told by many, because it is a story of love, a story of hate, a story of fear, and a story of noble one-sidedness that has not been followed by any Bastoker to date. By that I merely mean no one can live up to his legacy, for it is a quiet one, a one most live not to retell, and a one that no one truly wants to remember. Most called him Gav for short, some merely called him Vain, because that is what his life seemed to be.
But this is not merely his story, fair reader. This is also the story of his love, the Elvaan princess Aerwyn. This love, pure and unbound by common nature and laws, and total between both of them, was unconditional. But this love was also forbidden. Hence lies the battle therein that he fought so hard. Hence lies the meaning of his life. Hence lies the bravery and the magnitude of power displayed by this common Hume, made into almost a God among his enemies and a king among his friends.
These two are some of the most famous of tales in Bastok lore, and have been told many times. But you have never heard it from the eyes of one who knew him, one who had the gall to fight alongside him, but not enough courage to stand up for what was right when the time came. I credit myself the luckiest man alive to have known him, but I am also the most cowardly man alive because I did not stand for the man who stood for us all. I did not care to fight for his beliefs, although he cared to fight for mine.
I only hope that this story, my iteration, can do him justice. I pray that this will honor him, and that he, wherever he may reside now, can find peace and forgiveness in his heart for a simple idiot like me. I also hope that you, dear reader, begin to find an understanding patience in your heart for this soul. Gavain is a legend, and I intend to make sure that legend is carried down to the rest of the generations of Vana'diel.