The making of a Tyrant part one.
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First of all let me say that this does contain some violence, I tried to keep it as blood free as possible but the subject metter is tradgic to say the least. It basically give the backround for my character, at least some of it I hope to continue more in the future let me know what you think!
Blake Deschain
Born on a Farm outside Peltrach Many moon ago he grew up learning the ways of his father, a loving caring man. His da taught him many things, most of all which had to do with tilling and planting and harvesting. He would have done well as a farmer, aye a good one at that. Could have planted many a field and made a good life from the earth. But that my friends would be the end of this tale and no more would be heard of this man. But instead tis only the beginning…..
The sun begins to rise as Micale wanders the open fields. His Mace hanging heavily at his side. Blood covers him head to toe. Some of it is his some of it is of his fallen companions. The last of six fellows all seeking the Temple in Peltarch, Micale feels the weight of leadership gone awry. His mind reels taking him to places he never expected to go. Wishing himself dead along with them. Despaired, and at fault for failing in his duty.
"Hye, mister" a young boy calls after him.
Micale snaps from his thoughts. "What are you doing out here boy It is dangerous." He replies softly.
"I'm helping pa plow the fields." He says as he approaches.
"Is it not a little early for that?"
"My Pa says early to rise early to...." He stops short as he gets close enough to notice the blood all over Micales armor. "Pa, Pa this mans hurt" he yells and turns and runs back toward the field yelling all the way.
Micale starts to follow but soon sees a man running towards him the boy close behind.
"Well met good sir, I assure you I am not injured badly so you can slow down a bit." Micale address the man.
"That's good to hear. I am Harin who might you be, and why are you covered with blood?"
"Micale Cleric of Tyr, and I am afraid I've been in battle with orcs. Not far from here, they attacked while my party was asleep. I am the only survivor. I fear they may be headed this way."
"Oh gods" Harin gasps. "Come, quickly we must seeek shelter and weapons, Blake run to the house and warn your mother."
As Blake sprints towrd the house Harin turns to Micale "How many?"
"At least twenty maybe more."
A grim look crosses Harins face. " No way we can take them, we must hide."
"That would be the best course of action do you have somewhere in mind?"
"We're in open feild sir. I know of no place but my home."
"They'll find us ther..." Micale draws off the sentence as the sound of crowd whooping and grunting pierce the early morning air.
"RUN, They are upon us!!" Harin shouts.
"I'll try to keep them away go to your family."
Micale runs toward the orcs as HArin runs to the house.
"Tyr be with me." He prays. But how could he Micale thinks you fell asleep on your watch thats why they're all dead, then you cowardly ran away instead of lending aid. " I must redeem myself, Tyr don't let this family die take me instead." HE draws his mace and charges.
The first Orc scout approaches, short sword drawn, The orc doesn't even get a blow, Micales mace brings him down. He parries a blow from a second as he charges the line and blocks another with his shield.He lashes out now two orcs down then a third and a forth. Blocking and parrying he continues his death dance.
The Shaman leader sees his comrades falling he and begins to cast. Suddenly Micale feels an incredible compulsion, he no longer wants to fight the orcs, no the orcs are his friends the real enimies are in the house across the way, yes the real evil is there. He stopps his dance and the orcs fall in line behind him. He charges the house.
As he gets to the door he smashes with his mace. the door splinters at the force of the blow. He storms in Harin stands in front of his wife sickle in hand. He lowers his gaurd as he sees who it is. The Mace catches Harin squarely on the face crushing his skull. Micale snaps out of it as soon as he realizes what he just did. He falls to his knees and bellows. "NOOOO" Sobs wrack his body and he is overcome by grief. His face in his hands he crumples to the floor.
"Harin" the woman cries and rushes to her husbands side, the blood pools around the fallen sickle and the woman takes it up. "Murderer, Murderer," She seethes "I'll kill you." She plunges the sickle into Micales head as he lies prostrate on floor.
Orcs burst through the door, Short swords raised, they spproach the woman. They lower their swords as they get closer. She realizes they don't mean to kill her yet. Better to die than this. She thinks then quickly runs the sickle blade accross her throat. Her body falls to the floor next to her husbands.
Hiding in the rafters, Blake sobs silently as he watches the orcs loot then leave. And thus began his hate for Tyrians, for he had seen the whole thing, and the hatred continues to this day.
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Blake is gone for good hes on the fague, I will continue this thread if anyone is interested, please post if you are, there could be many out of game storiesfor this cahracter but i'm not going to waste my time with him if no one reads em., and I will start another for my new banite, A fighter named Damien
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The one in historical archives will eventually be locked and xp handed out for it. There's no problem about posting it here, too, you can add your further stories to the same thread, which makes it easier for the interested to find them if they are grouped together.
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I posted this in the wrong section sorry!
