Prologue III
Davion's eyes opened to find nothing but nothingness itself, with only his physical form present in the abyss, though only just barely. The knight despaired since he could no longer find his way, unable to help himself. He was left hollow, for he has nothing anymore. Then, a surge of brilliance dawned upon him, with two sources of light, one a dark glow, and the other a blinding light. The two lecture him about the greater things in life and beyond it, and the clueless man could have spent ages learning from their amassed knowledge of the world, should he desire. The memetic, orange glow is powerful, omnipresent, and very willing to sharing its strength to its allies. It gave the knight ambition and a hint of energy that only left him craving for more. The bright, blue light is ancient, wise, and above all: loyal to those that would aid it. It filled the knight with purpose and confidence, which is a powerful thing in its own right. Both compelled him to draw near their illustrious bodies, and Davion had an uncontrollable urge that would drive him to reach out for that which in the end he could not truly understand in his lifetime. The two took note of this, and urged him to choose wisely, regardless.
His eyes were heavier than they had ever been, and it was a struggle to open them. His neck was sore, as though something very large had gouged it just now. He was lying on a cot in a corner, within a relatively well maintained room with wooden walls. It was well lit by the lantern on the stool beside his bedding. The room was minimally decorated, with just a drawer and chest at an adjacent corner to his left and a small rug to the side of bed, where the rested would lay their feet after rousing from their slumber. A door was left opened at another corner, right in front of him. He could not see anything except the hallway's wall. There was one window at the opposite corner, diagonal to the corner Davion rested at. Although he was not close to it, he could see that the outside of his peaceful environment, the land was in the midst of a storm.
He soon realized he was not wearing his armor, just some simple clothing that proved too tight for his muscular frame. He rises out of his slump and all the meanwhile is pestered by his tender throat. Dumbstruck, he finally remembered why it was bothering him at all. Flashes of a battle with the wyrm, Slyrak, rush through his brain. He should be dead right now, lying in a pool of blood beside whom he assumed to be a practitioner of underhanded tactics.
Mind you, traveler, he did not quite catch Slyrak's final words. Would one be able to keep calm and focus if there was an overgrown nail of dragon in their throat?
"Why…?" he mutters, his voice hoarse, and his vocal cords agitated from premature use.
He feels his neck with his hands, and surprisingly, he does not find any form of bandaging around him, and his throat's texture is fine, smooth, even, as if it were years younger.
"I see you are awake, Sir Knight."
The soft, feminine voice at the door Davion startled him, and his head swerved to meet its owner. An older lady with a small grin and an arched eyebrow on her face met the knight's confused visage. She wore a plain, modest dress with a tincture of light blue, and her flowing, straight hair had a matching ribbon to top it off.
"Wait, aren't you-" Davion began to say, but was interrupted by the familiar face.
"Yes, indeed. I am the bartender that gave you the location of that pesky dragon, in case ya don't fully remember." She said, "And good on you for being rid of 'im. The bugger was harrying our cows for quite the while, now. But no more, thanks to you."
"Why am I here? How did you know that I would be in danger?" The knight was still confused, having found himself in this woman's home.
"Oof, I 'ad my ol' husband come after you." She responded, "I just had this 'ere hunch that you'd might not make it back without some nasty gash ailing ya."
"That's...Very kind of you to take me into your home. My apologies if I was of any trouble to you, miss…Err..."
"Lexine, young man." the lady said, chuckling at the young knight's forgetfulness, much to his chagrin, "And you don't have to worry, nooo. We should be celebrating your victory against that o'ergrown lizard! In fact, the village is commemorating a feast in your name this evening."
The knight is silent, averting his gaze from Lexine and lending it to the window again. The memories of the fight became clearer, and it brought him some grief.
"You alright, there, hero?" Lexine asked, unsure as to why the knight hasn't at least cracked a smile at the news.
The knight collected himself and cleared his sore throat a bit. It wouldn't do for a knight of his standing to break away from his oath and offend a lady.
"Yes, ma'am." the knight said with a sense of confidence, even going as far as giving a smile, despite his true feelings. "I was just wondering what it'd be like. The feast, I mean."
"Ah, yes." Lexine said, her voice a bit more cheery, in response to the knight's sudden change in tone. "There will be a toast in your honor, and as I am told, there will be a few bards that just dropped by that will be lending their instruments in the event."
"Sounds grand. I know I'll be there, now."
"I would hope so, Sir Knight. It wouldn't be awfully nice for the subject of this little celebration to just up and leave without trying the ale, first, would it?"
The two chuckled at this, and the knight's mood genuinely improved from the talking. At times like these, he wonders why he never chose to settle down, rather than putting himself in danger like he does.
"Ohh, I just remembered I 'ave to check up on the tavern, now." Lexine's face was changed to that to match her urgency. "We'll 'ave to continue this another time, I'm afraid. You can tell everyone of the epic showdown 'tween you and that beast, alright?"
"Very well, I'll be looking forward to that, miss Lexine." the knight said.
When she scurried back to work in the tavern, Davion let out a deep sigh. He understands that now that the subject of countless hours spent tracking is now dead, he has nothing of interest left to do with himself. There was also the matter of him being able to think about his life at all, as he clearly remembers his throat being ripped apart by the talon of the old dragon he had to put down. Speaking of which, he would have to ask Lexine's husband about Davion's state when he found him.
As he tried to make more out of his future plans, he heard a cry for help. He remembered then as to why he walked the path of a warrior.
Without hesitation, he looked around for a weapon. The chest in the room had something jutting out of it. He swiftly arose from his bed without delays of a sharp pang of pain, surprising, given that he just fought a dragon. Then, he approached the chest and pulled out the item in question. It was his blade; just what he needed.
He dashed out of the cottage, bare-footed and armed with his sword to find the root of the cry. At the village center he found a pair of grotesque, reddish-orange, bipedal monsters with glowing eyes were pointing their weapons at some of the villagers that surrounded them while they held a cowering young boy as their hostage. All the commoners have gathered around the dilemma in the rain, whispering amongst themselves.
"Listen 'ere, you blokes." The taller of the two announced. He was armed with a painful-looking bludgeon and was ready to use it, if need be. "Stay away from us, if not, then... The little urchin gets it, you 'ear?"
The talking within the crowd intensifies as they weigh their choices while the storm raged on. The second of the two creatures with a back problem and a staff sees the man armed with a sword.
"'Ey, you!" He says, alerting his partner. "Drop it!"
"If you let go of the boy, I'll consider it!" Davion states, making an effort to be as intimidating as possible, even though he is not wearing his armor.
"B-Blimey..." The upright one mutters under his breath. "Fine, then. But this 'ere little predicament won't be forgotten, I'll be carvin' off that gabber of yours soon, son, I swear on me mum!"
The one with the club throws the child unto the knight, forcing him to catch him as the two creatures make their exit. The knight drops his blade onto the wet earth and curses under his breath as he hears the squishing of the mud beneath the assailants' feet become quieter with each step, the noise dying down and being drowned by the storm, soon after. The boy in his arms is sobbing intensely, begging for his mother to come and comfort him. Davion tries to soothe the kid's panicking soul for a moment.
"Shh, child. It'll be alright, now." Davion says. "Where is your mother?"
The little boy calms himself to a few gasps and sniffles, and tries his hardest to make a comprehensible answer.
"Sh-She's over there..." he says with a wavering tone, pointing to his parent.
The knight takes up the boy and carries him to the worried mother. The young mother thanks the hero and everyone soon disperses, leaving only two people in the rain.
"Well, I wasn't wrong when I called you a hero, back there, now was I?" Lexine said, fairly impressed by how the knight without shining armor reacted to the situation.
"If anything, I suppose that's half of the reason why I took up the dragon-hunting business." The knight sighed, satisfied that the problem was over, for now.
"I can see that." She says with a hint of admiration. "Why don't you go on and rest for the afternoon. You'll be needing your strength and your appetite for when the feast begins. Also, with what just 'appened, I'm sure you'll be gaining a lot more praise from the village for your deeds."
"Until then, Miss." the knight says, turning back to the cottage.
Davion found his quarters, placing the sword back in the trunk, along with the scabbard he neglected to bring with him during the conflict. He lied down on the cot, and despite what had occurred, he still felt a hint of uncertainty with his life and for the fate of the village should the monsters from earlier return. He attempted to rest in his temporary room for now, eager to attend the festivities, but because of his unbecoming nerves as of late, it was only just that: an attempt.
A.A.N
You guys already know how Quirt and Sithil were transformed into creeps when they were exposed to Radiant and Dire crystals, with both of them submitting to one in particular side, right? Well, I took that as a sign that a person's character is essential to knowing which side they will likely join. Quirt seems like the smart/sophisticated sort, so he became Radiant, while Sithil joined the Dire for the opposite reason. So, in this island, the (British Isles-like) inhabitants were influenced by both crystals, and those that stayed around them for too long became one of these ugly mutants.
As for heroes, however... I have another theory in mind.