AUTHOR'S NOTE: I realise I haven't given a specific character description of Abdel yet. Just to clarify, I wanted to give the effect of allowing readers to see the main character any way they wanted, with the exception of the eyes. If you want a character description, say so in a review and I'll put one into the next chapter, rather than breaking the illusion for those of you who want an anonymous character.
Chapter 2: More Than a Little Bit Psycho
And so I fled into the depths of the forest of Tethyr. The air was heavy and humid around me, and it became difficult to breathe once I was more than a few furlongs in. A deathly, reverent silence hung over the place, and though it was unsettling at first, I soon felt at peace with myself and the forest. The silence was still disturbing though, I was surprised not to have been attacked by animals for encroaching upon their territory.
The daylight streamed through the forest canopy, casting a beauteous glow on my environs. The trees were very thick, tall and ancient beyond belief. They were also close enough together in places that I knew this would not be a pleasant place to spend the night alone. I needed to find the village of elves quickly, before the nocturnal predators came out to play. The troubling thing was that my father had not given me the directions to the village. I knew it would be nearby, within the borders, but the forest was vast beyond my wildest imaginings. I suppose now that he had expected a scout to guide me to the community, but none had come- I was passing into elvish heartlands unhindered.
The lack of life was actually disturbing- here and there I could see deer or wolves flit through the trees in the distance, but never come close. The larger wildlife were nowhere to be seen at all. I attributed this at the time to my demonic blood, as my father had often told me that animals are more attuned to the spiritual world than most humanoids. The truth was far more sinister, as I was to find out.
In time I came across a stream, and drank thirstily from it, suddenly acutely aware of the fact that I had not partaken of water in hours. With the sun rapidly setting, I decided to soak in the cool water, stripping off my dirty, sweaty chainmail and cleaning the filth from my body. There was after all, I reasoned, a low likelihood of me being attacked, given the day's precedent. And the cool water was very soothing on my aching joints.
I must have lain there for around half an hour, forcing the pain and exhaustion from my mind, when I heard giggling. I stopped to search for the source of the noise, but to no avail. Then I heard it again. I stood up from my improvised bath and searched the trees frantically for the high pitched, female voices, when two dryads stepped out of the trees from right in front of me! Suddenly self-conscious and aware of my own nudity, I scooped up my shield and used it to cover my crotch. This only inspired a renewed fit of demure laughter in the dryads, and I can imagine that by this point I would have looked fairly comical by anyone's standards.
"Mortal," began one of the dryads in a sweet, alluring voice, "Would we be correct in assuming that you are searching for the elven village situated nearby?"
"You would, yes." I replied after a moment's hesitation. It was far too easy to hold a conversation whilst naked.
"Then it seems fate has guided you to the right place." said the other dryad, "This stream provides water to the townspeople; go against the flow of the water, and you shall find what you seek."
"I see, then I thank you for your assistance." I pondered my next words carefully, "Might I have a private moment so that I can properly dress myself?"
The dryads burst into laughter again, and in that moment their faces looked so sweet, fun-loving and innocent. For a moment I wondered what my life would have been like- how different it would have been- had I been raised in the forests. It had been forced into my head at an early age that my existence went against nature, and that I was evil no matter how I lived my life, but now I think it is that kind of philosophy that causes other tieflings and fiendspawn to succumb to the temptation of evil. I felt at home here in the woods; perhaps I should have been raised as a ranger...
The dryads ceased their giggling, "You needn't worry, we witness the nudity of the elves every day- your nakedness was not what moved us to such laughter."
"Then what was?"
"The fact that you are downstream of the village..." finished the second dryad, her voice strangely deep and elven, yet passively seductive. They once again began to giggle as they allowed what had been said to sink in to my small brain. If I was downstream of the village, then that meant I was washing and drinking from- "Oh no, you have to be kidding me..."
"Do not feel ashamed, spawn of chaos, you have not dirtied yourself here. You are in a place of purest nature, and so here the water remains pure for all to drink."
I was momentarily shocked to hear that they knew of my heritage, but should not have been surprised. Dryads are deeply attuned to nature around them, and so can sense the presence of anything living amidst their trees. In a way, it was reassuring to know that even I, the spawn of a demon, could be felt within nature; that I was not an aberration with no place in the great cycle. Once again I thanked the dryads, before asking politely once more that they avert their eyes whilst I dressed, a request to which they- albeit reluctantly, acquiesced, making a mock show of turning their backs while I donned my tunic and my chainmail. I thanked them a final time, and then began to set out on my way, when something terrible happened.
One of the dryads, followed by the other, keeled over and let out a scream of purest pain before bursting into flames and disintegrating. I had my blade drawn in an instant, prepared to destroy whatever had annihilated these beautiful, peacful creatures- but there was nothing. No surge of pain. No impending attack. Only the deathly silence. I quickly followed the stream to where they had told me the elven village was. It was getting dark very quickly now, and I would need to make haste if I were to reach safety and make camp before sundown- I rather doubted my ability to follow the stream in the pitch blackness of the woods. I could feel the woods bristling with life around me, and wondered for a moment whether these were the nocturnal predators I was worrying about earlier or whether the deaths of the dryads had caused the previously docile animals to go mad.
I moved as quickly and as quietly as my armour would allow, and I was rewarded when, a short time after nightfall, I made it to the village unmolested. But even I could tell from afar that there was something amiss. whilst i could make out the campfires in the distance, there was no entrancing, jovial dancing around them as I had expected there to be. There was no happy shouting and singing in the elvish tongue, in fact there was no speech to be heard at all. I had not imagined that elves would retire so early, when the night was still young.
Then I saw it, the biggest thing out of place, that I had somehow overlooked. Drawing closer, I realised that one of the fires raged aroud a tall tree- perhaps the tree of the dryads with whom I had spoken earlier. With my adjusting eyesight I could make out several other felled trees, illuminated by the dancing flames. This screamed of wrongness to me- elves would never cut living wood for fire, especially in such quantities- they had far too much respect for nature to do something like this. As I fumed, my foot caught on something hard and slippery, and I went sprawling headlong into the dirt and leaves. I bit down on my lip as I landed and tasted my own blood- great. Now I had a cut on the inside of my mouth. What was suprising was when I felt something trickle up my sleeve, and then I tasted more blood- not mine this time. My cut was gone, but this raised new issues. Going back, I examined the object on which I had tripped. As I had expected, it was a tree root. What did come as a shock to me was that it was slicked with blood. I didn't stop to locate or examine the body, I had no desire to. There had been a massacre here. In this new light I saw once more the elven village, trees and tents used to start not campfires, but funeral pyres. Here and there lay corpses, missed by the victors of the battle in their efforts to give the dead their last rites. Where before there had been small wooden huts, now there were tents, the housing of the elves torn down and used as firewood so that the victorious invaders could set up camp in their place. I wondered if, back outside the woods, my father and my people were being given these same funeral rites, incinerated amidst the corpses of friend and foe alike.
I made a decision; this deed had to be repayed in blood. Not only was I once more out of a home, but these men had slaughtered an entire village of what I presumed to be innocent elves, and my presumptions were to be proven right when I found that, upon closer examination of the village, several elven women were being kept captive as pleasure slaves. I did what I could to free them, igniting the magical fire of my blade and shearing through the metal bars of the cages they were being held in. Unfortunately, I only managed to free two of them before it became too difficult to sustain the powers of my blade and I was forced to lie, exhausted, amidst the wreckage of a destroyed trade wagon.
Why wasn't I strong enough? Why wasn't I quick enough? These were the thoughts running through my head as I lay, recovering my sense of coordination and balance. If I had only been here more quickly, I could have saved everyone! I could have protected these people!... No- I told myself, such deliberations were meaningless; what's done is done. Chances are that if an entire village of elves fell victim to this attack, there was little I could have done in the face of such overwhelming odds. But this time, now, I was here. And the scum who had done this were sleeping no further than fifty yards away from where I lay, smug and confident in their victory, snoring uncouthly upon their spoils. They deserved to die, every single one of them, and tonight I, a tiefling, would play the angel of death- how fitting. Getting uneasily to my feet, but spurred on by my righteous anger, I stole through the night towards the nearest tent. Silently opening it up, I observed the first of my victims.
He was a human, sleeping in his armour, not an especially attractive man, common looking. Killing him would be easy; after what he had done, I daresay it would even be fun. He was sleeping in his armour, and emblazoned on his chesplate I saw something that moved to even more rage- the crest of the Black Talons- a curved, black claw tipped with frost and blood. However, just as I was about to stick my blade in him, I saw something else I had not seem. Towards the back of his tent was a small child, no more than three years of age. It was clearly his son. I realised I had not the heart to kill a father. This toddler had done nothing wrong, and though the deeds of his father were unforgiveable, I realised that my father too had had some dirty dealings in his past, and I had still mourned his loss. This was when I first saw the Black Talons as what most of them were- poor men doing their jobs, for what pay they could attain. Trying desperately to feed their families. It's a sad fact of life that mercenary work pays well. And the best paying jobs of all are those which nobody else has the stomach to take on- wholesale slaughters such as these.
I turned and left the tent, my business is not that of orphaning young children and ripping families apart. My grudge was not with that man, nor his child. He was simply trying to make a living, as the renegade Fists had done. No, my grudge was with Taurgosz Khosann, who had torn my life apart in a single day. I would track him down and kill him, and then I would find his employers, and destroy them too.
But first I needed to get away from this place of death, and centre myself for what I would do next. Turning, I fled once more into the forest.
***
I took my rest inside a hollowed out tree not far from the village, but far enough to avoid notice by a wandering patrol. As I had no bedroll, it was hardly a comfortable sleep, but it would have to suffice from the time being. I decided to take an hour to observe the actions of the mercenaries from afar, before heading out towards civilisation once more to track down my deadly quarry. I realised I would need a lot more experience before I could best in combat the man who had slain my father, but I had nothing to lose, and everything to gain, where as he had only his career to fight for.
When I made it back to the village, I was surprised to find that the mercenaries were not yet up and about. It was coming close to noon now, and even lazy louts such as the Black Talons should have been awake by now, going about their duties and such. So of course it was with weary resignation that I realised there had been another massacre. In the night, after I had retired, someone had taken the pleasure of doing what I had been planning, and killed the mercenaries in their sleep. These bodies had not been given the benifit of cremation or burial, left to the worms in pools of their own bodily fluids. Their tents had been cut to ribbons, but I did not venture inside- My mind soared back to the young child I had seen, sleeping peacefully, no sin yet on his shoulders...- no!; it was not worth thinking about.
Even the elves had not been spared. The pleasure slaves had not been let out of their cages, but lay inside, riddled with arrows, looks of panic and confusion etched into their dead visages. I wondered distantly what kind of maniac had done this. it could have been the Tenhammer, but why he would want to destroy his own organisation escaped me for the moment, so I put that thought aside. I could think of nobody with the power and resources to have done this. Perhaps a rival mercenary group... but then there would have been bodies from the attacking side as well, and the question yet remained as to how they would have been so easily located. The Iron Throne, or other powerful organisations, would have had the money and power to eliminate a band of men in their own employ, simply for the sake of secrecy, but I had no evidence of a connection between the Black Talon and any other powerful company.
Little did I know that I would have my answer shortly. I heard a shout in the woods and ran to investigate it, and what I saw was the commencement of a beautiful dance of death. Six Black Talon mercenaries stood in a small clearing, three corpses of their number lying alongside them. Even as I took in the situation, arrows thunked into the necks of two more of them, dropping them instantly. One of them came at me with his sword upraised, thinking me to be the source of punishment, but he was cut down by some invisible force and dissapeared into the grass. The other three were now in a blind panic, and for good reason. A long blade swept down and across from above, shattering one mercenary's blade and cutting his throat. Clasping his throat with both hands to keep in the blood, he had barely hit the ground when, quick as can be, a strong hand plunged a poisoned arrow into the collar bone of the penultimate man, sending him to the same fate as his predecessor. the last of the mercenaries turned to run, but there was to be no escape for him today. From the trees above, a figure swung upside-down, wielding two katanas and clinging to a branch by his knees. He swung both blades and decapitated the man, sending a crimson fountain into the air. Then he performed a complex dismount and turned to face me, his footfalls inaudible in the grasses. He was an elf- or half-elf- by the look of things. He was tall and slender, with long blonde hair, and his eyes burned with righteous, passionate anger. He raised his blades and shouted a challenge.
"You, human, do not wear their badge." I assumed he was referring to the Black Talon insignia, "State your business in these woods and the reason for your trespass in these dire times, and I may yet allow you to live."
I sighed: a fanatic.
"I came seeking out the elves of this wood." I gestured around me to emphasise the point. A strange look dawned on his face and he sighed,
"Very well, you have found them!"
Without warning, he attacked. Before I could shout out any defence, he was upon me, his blades spinning almost too quickly to parry. I was able to fend off the first few attacks, but he kept on coming, attacking too quickly for me to catch my breath, or put some distance between us.
"Wait.." I began, swatting away his blades with my shield as best I was able, "I didn't-"
"Hold your foul tongue human, or I will cut it out!" he snarled, slowing his flurry only a little bit to speak, "I have no cause to trust you after what you have done to me!"
"But I-"
"Enough! You will die here with your mercenary friends!"
Now I was starting to get angry. This guy wasn't even giving me a chance to explain myself. His attacks were increasing in ferocity now, each slash gouging a narrow line into my shield. I managed to catch his blades between my sword and shield, then push him away. Then I swung for his head. It was a precise, well-aimed attack, yet at the last minute he ducked under my blade- impossibly fast- and then backflipped away to avoid the backswing, my blade missing his legs by millimetres. This guy was one cocky bastard.
The problem was, not only was he cocky, he was good, and I knew he wouldn't have to think twice before killing me. Yet he was gradually wearing me down, and so I knew I had to act fast. He swung for my head with both katanas, and I attempted- as he had before- to duck backwards under them. It nearly worked, but his left hand blade sliced a short way into my forehead. Fortunately, it was only a shallow wound, and I managed to regain my footing in short order, but it stung like hell and the blood dripping into my eyes made it difficult to fight. Though I had learned a lot about invoking the power of my new blade, I figured that this was one of those times I would have to risk it. I felt the energy surge through me, and watched as my weapon burst into flames in my hands. I opened myself up for a free shot at my shield- which he took, then swung out not at him, but at the blade he held in his right hand. The katana flared in his grip and half of the blade melted, the hilt flying from his stunned hand. I let the flames die, knowing I would need all of my energy to finish him, then caught his other blade between my shield and my arm, wrenching my body to one side to disarm him completely, and I think I pulled his arm out of its socket too.
He screamed in pain, and I used my shield to slam him into a nearby tree, pinning him there with my blade at his throat. I was relieved to see him raise his good arm in what I interpreted as an act of surrender.
"Now will you listen to me?"
"Why should I? Why should I grant you the privilege of hearing you out, when you showed no such mercy to my people?!?"
'Boy, I don't know where to start!' I thought.
"Maybe because I'm the one with the weapon here, and I could cut your throat with a flick of my wrist?"
He smiled, odd given the circumstances, and I wondered for a moment whether he had gone mad.
"Oh really?"
Then I noticed that his injured arm had fallen down to his belt. Now he swung up his arm and thrust an arrow into my stomach. I recoiled with the pain, momentarily lowering my blade and losing my combat advantage. That bought him enough time to drop to the ground, scoop up some loose dirt and hurl it into my eyes. I dropped my shield and tried to clear my vision with my sleeve, and was then surprised when he cut deep into my left arm. The sad thing was that he hadn't even been injured yet, so my vampiric healing was next to useless. The cut on my forehead had sealed from the blood of the mercenaries, but this psychopath had a knack for killing and leaving little blood, so they were of limited use. I had to fight with all my strength to win this battle, but I wasn't sure if I could summon the power of the Fireblade again so soon after having used it before.
I stood up, parrying a blow that would have separated my head from my shoulders, and I realised that I was outmatched: he was uninjured, and much quicker than me. I backed off a little bit more with each blow, and would have been cut in half had I not felt a power come to me, unbidden, from the very depths of my soul. I openede my eyes, not having realised they were closed, and saw that my left hand was aglow with pale red light. Interesting, to say the least.
I had never studied magic, nor had I used it before. I lacked the patience to commit myself to endless hours of studious boredom. I knew I would never have made a competent mage, preferring to solve my problems with cold steel. This, however, was something different. There were no ancient signs or lost languages to mutter, and I soon realised I had no control over what this mysterious energy would do. I immediately presumed that this must have been something given to me by my errant bloodline- what I would later come to know as a form of wild magic.
Unbidden, the light streaked towards my opponent, and he stumbled backwards, dazed. Then I swung wildly for his face as he tried to reorientate himself. As I had expected, he parried me, but only just. His movements had grown sluggish, and I realiwsed that I now held the advantage. While each of us held only one weapon, he was robbed of his sole advantage: his speed. Without that, he was at my mercy. On such even terms, I had only ever been bested by my late father, and by his memory I'd be damned I were to die here. Now it was my turn to go on the offensive, and so I did- hacking and slicing, forcing him back a little further with each stroke until he was nearly at the tree into which I had slammed him earlier. I would have slain him, had my spell not worn off at that exact moment. As I saw his speed begin to increase, I contemplated my chances of victory, and they were not good. I needed to do something to throw him off balance- anything- so that I might deliver the death blow. I considered punching him in the face, but scrapped that idea realising he would probably just sever my arm.
Then I remembered that he too bore an arm injury, albeit one that did not bleed. Capitalising on this, I lunged for his left arm and grabbed it tightly, causing him to lower his blade momentarily- long enough for me to punch him in the face with the hill of my sword. The punch drew blood- not enough to heal my wounds, but the impact was still sufficient to stun him. I needed to finish this now, but I was without a means.
We clashed blades once more, his katana like a hurricane of steel. I held him off for the time being, but knew I had to find a flaw in his fighting style that I could exploit before he wore me down and killed me.
Looking back, I understand that the only reason I emerged victorious was because of the impending Iron Crisis. If my adversary's katana had been a magical blade, one which would have taken incredible power to break, I would surely have died. As things were, it wasn't.
Ignoring the pain in my arm, I gripped the hilt of my sword tightly with both hands, and swung with all my might at the elf. He parried, and our blades slid together once more... before the Fireblade sank about an inch deep into his katana- locking our weapons. I could have just invoked the flames again, shattered his remaining weapon, and finished him, but for some reason, i didn't want to. Something held me back. Instead I took the oppurtunity to look into his eyes- green and laced with yellow spots- and noticed him look back into mine not with the expression realisation of impending doom, but of utter incredulity.
"You... You're not human!"
"That's... That's what I've... been... trying to... tell you!"
We released each other and sank to the floor, coated in sweat and grime, leaving our blades on the forest floor beside us.
"Now do you believe that I had no part in the destruction of your village?"
The elf grimaced; "I know not what to believe, but that you are no human, and judging by your eyes no stranger to persecution yourself, is enough to end our quarrel for now- for am I correct in presuming that you are of demonic heritage?"
Now it was my turn to grimace: I dislike being referred to as 'demonic', it makes me appear evil.
"Well, that isn't exactly how I would phrase it, but yes- I am a tiefling. My mother was a succubus from Baator."
"Interesting, very curious. I suppose now that you are wondering why I tried to kill you?"
'Yeah, that did cross my mind!' I thought. He took my silence to mean curiosity and continued.
"Well, you see, you may have noticed that I initially took you to be a human. I have something of a... grudge... against humanity. Allow me to continue before you condemn me! You see, I was raised by a human father and an elven mother, though I consider myself to be wholly elven for reasons I will soon detail to you. You see, my father was very... violent and abusive. We lived far away from any other contact, on the outskirts of the forest, and so nobody was there to stop him. He would return home in a drunken rage and beat my mother to within an inch of her life- yet still she stood by him, afraid of her own inadequacies, of her inability to provide for herself. When I was a boy, fourteen years of age, I struck back... I... I was protecting my mother..."
He stopped, I could sense that, whether he knew it or not, what he had done that night had sparked a deep inner turmoil within his soul, and whether or not he would admit this weakness, he was struggling with it. Thus I decided to step in and help him, albeit in an unusual manner.
"You killed him, didn't you?" He nodded, and I saw in his eyes a distant melancholy before his face hardened once more,
"Aye, that I did. He was particularly violent and I feared for both mine and my mother's lives, so I took the woodcutter's axe he had left by the door, and I split his skull with it. Afterwards my mother was in a state of shock, so I resolved to take my fate into our own hands. I led her to this village, the one that you see in ruins around you. The elder welcomed us with open arms, outsiders as we were, aware of the circumstances, and I became a ranger, at one with the forest, and I helped to provide for my ailing mother. But I was also much more than that- I was a warrior, I became one with my blades, and in the event of an attack, by rampaging goblins or the like, I took up arms to defend my new family."
He paused in his tale to spit bitterly into the dirt, "The rest, as they say, is history. You see what those simians have done to me, to my family. Everything I once loved is dead."
"You don't know that. Your mother could have escaped, she could be-"
"Are you blind!? Look around you! These brutes killed and burned their way through my home in the night! My people were sleeping! Defenceless! How could any have escaped from such an assault, for which we were so ill-prepared?"
As I contemplated my response, I absent mindedly made a circle of stones, gathered some dead wood, and used a small jolt of energy from my blade to get a fire going. Then I said, "You did the same... I saw the results of your revenge. In fact, I had planned to do as you did, such was my outrage... but then I remembered myself. You didn't just kill your enemies, you killed small children! You killed even your own people!"
"They had been tainted by the humans."
"Tainted?"
"You and I are much alike, you see. Just as you must surely struggle with the taint of your devilish ancestry, I struggle with the fact that I am no true elf, I share this cursed human blood. This is what drew me too you. Humanity is a curse, an infestation that must be exterminated, and through my actions, I will have redemption for my own cursed blood."
"You sound like a zealot! I don't struggle with my ancestry! A man's heritage does not determine his actions unless through his own prior sense of inevitability he allows it to. I consider myself not to be the best person in the world, but not evil- not by a stretch. To be a good person, all I need do is simply believe. I believe in the good inside all sentient beings."
He paused to consider my words, mulling them over in his mind, then asked me a very straightforward question:
"You say you planned to do my work for me. Why? Simply out of a sense of retribution for people you never knew?"
It was with great reluctance that I admitted that was not the only reason, and he sat by the fire and listened intently as I told him of my own personal grudge against the perpetrators of these acts- not humanity as a whole, but the Black Talon Mercenary Company, or more specifically Taurgosz Khosann. Finally, when I had finished my tale, we were both tired from the events of the day.
"Well then, Abdel was it? I feel I should introduce myself: I am Gan Menourar. It seems we have formed what they call, 'an alliance of convenience'. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, or so they say. You have given me much to think about, but now we must rest. Sleep at the foot of any tree here, and I swear that no harm will come to you within these woods. Now I must go to retrieve food and new weapons from the ruins of the village. I shall return shortly."
He extended a gloved hand in friendship, which I took. I examined his gauntlet. It appeared to be crafted from leather, but a leather that had yet to be tanned. In fact it was a pallid hue, and very soft and pliable to the touch. I noticed that this extended to his cuirass as well, in fact all of his armour was made of the stuff. Then I also noticed that there were hairs sewn into his armour, as well as several damaged black talon insignias. And so I came to the conclusion that this 'leather' must be... oh no...
I recoiled instinctively from the offensive material, "Is that... is that really..?"
All he did in return was grin. "And so the enemy will know me by the scent of their dead."
"You're more than a little bit psycho, you know that?"
"Without a fanatical zeal, how can we hope to do justice for the memories of our own loved ones? Get some sleep, I shall be back shortly, you'll need your energy for tomorrow."
"Why?"
"Well, my friend, tomorrow we hunt!"
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
The reason Gan is able to wound Abdel with a normal weapon is because he is a kensai, and thus at one with his blades
The wild magic is a sign of things to come... nuff said... (yes I took more creative license with the Tiefling powers)
Be prepared for an Abdel vs. Taurgosz showdown at some point in the next two chapters, still not entirely sure where I'm going with this.
As a non-story-related aside, I'm sorry if I missed any 'C's out, I spilled fruit juice on my keyboard and now C and X jam often.
Also, I took some more creative license with the Black Talon insignia. The one I chose seemed fitting enough, but if anybody has any better suggestions I'm more than willing to listen. If I like them I'll go back and edit.
Also: Gan's Profile:
Name: Gan Menourar
Race: Half-elf (human)
Class: Archer/Kensai (interesting mix I know, as well as being impossible in the games: don't flame me!)
Alignment: NE
STR: 15 (16 when in a forest)
DEX: 19
CON: 15 (17 when in a forest)
INT: 13
WIS: 8
CHA: 16 (5 in the presence of humans)
