The Return of Damarcus



  • It had been too long.

    On that fateful day of departure, a torrent of emotions tore through Damarcus. Disillusionment and cold abandon wrung tears; they streamed down the pale cheeks, down his weathered features. The hot tears soaked the cold grass below.

    Why?

    Damarcus kneeled, his shoulders stooped and his face downcast. He was no longer in favour of Lathander. The divine power that once flowed through his veins was gone. The power that coursed through his shoulders was sapped. He felt nothing but the quiet and steady beating of his heart. Each beat drove a small stake, and he writhed in pain as his tortured soul cried for mercy.

    Why?

    In search of an answer, he left. From region to region he travelled, through the grassy meadows and the snowy mountains, through the scorching deserts and the barren plains. Years passed. And it finally dawned upon him that perhaps, just perhaps, the answer was not to be found out there, but back here, in Narfell, in the towns he called home and among citizens he treasured as friends. So Damarcus returned.

    Indeed, it had been too long.



  • Untimely Death

    Hacked to pieces by two monstrous Destroyers, Damarcus now calls the fugue his home.



  • The Meeting with Kara Willendt

    Damarcus sat at the Boardshed Inn, sipping warm water, as he waited for Kara Willendt, the Priestess of Mystra. He had received correspondence from her in reply to his note requestiong audience, and she had agreed to meet him at the Boardshed Inn. He sat patiently, sipping occasionally from a black mug.

    As he raised his mug to finish the drink, his eyes scanned the room yet again. His eyes at once captured the sight of one fair lady, a girl perhaps, for she seemed no more than twenty years old. Her robe shimmered brightly in the darkly lit tavern, and she moved with ease and grace. Damarcus' left eyebrow arched, partly due to wonder and partly due to curiosity, but mostly due to an untamed prowess. Damarcus was still Damarcus, even after all these years.

    To his surprise, the young girl introduced herself as Kara Willendt. Damarcus had expected a woman of more advanced years, for he had once heard Kara led the old Alliance guild. They exchanged pleasantries when the inn's doors opened suddenly. The intruder was none other than Damarcus' dear friend, A'lan, and he joined them at Damarcus' urging. The three, desiring greater privacy, headed upstairs shortly after.

    As they walked up the stairs, Damarcus noticed how A'lan's eyes rested on the young girl's slender back. Damarcus felt an odd, hot flush in his cheeks. Bastard, he thought. First Tindra, and now her too? A'lan was a dear friend, but they had agreed one time that anything went when it came to lasses. Meril once wrote, all was fair in love and war. So be it, Damarcus thought. I'm not losing her, too.

    In the room, the three sat to discuss Damarcus' plight. Damarcus shared how he had lost faith and idealism, and how he was confused about everything. A'lan gave his account of how a dark spirit had seized Damarcus in the deep woods just a few days ago, and how he had just barely managed to take him back into town. Kara listened patiently. She then shared the story of how her faith was once put under test too, and how she had managed to re-earn the favour of her deity. She encouraged Damarcus to pray. Hope, faith, and love should guide his actions, said Kara.

    The meeting adjourned after a few hours… Hope, faith and love. What did they mean? How could they help him? Damarcus wondered. Only time would tell.



  • Never yet met you….. but heard of you.

    Welcome back dear brother...



  • Good to see a familiar face back in town! Welcome back Damarcus.