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Post by Olba'id » Tue Nov 20, 2012 7:16 am


The moon was red in the night sky. The stars did not show their faces this night, and screams of pain were coming from the small cabin in the middle of the refugee camp. A tall man in a sable cloak rushed towards the cabin from the mess hall. When he reached it he threw open the door and was greeted by a plump matronly woman in a rough homespun dress and a bloodstained apron. “I am afraid that we can't let you in the room with her” she told him. “There have been... complications and we are not sure that either of them will make it. They are stable for now but she started her labor too soon. Now please sit down there,” she ordered, as she indicated one of the four chairs sitting around a table in the middle of the room. He sat down in one of the chairs as the woman walked through the doorway to the next room which was deathly quiet.
He sat throughout the night. The screams stopped and restarted several times during those long hours. Eventually he could stand it no more and he began pacing. Just when he was about to break and head into the next room to see what was happening, the woman came out and said with a tired smile, “You can go in now it's done and both of them are fine.” The man stood a little straighter and walked himself into the room where his wife had just given birth.
As he walked through the separating curtain he saw a warmly lit room with a small bed on the far wall. In that bed was his wife. She was a tall, elven woman (taller than him at 6' 3”) and thin. She had short brown hair which she wore spiked on her head. Right now she lay in bed looking exhausted while holding what looked like a small bundle of cloth in her arms. “look Jaramy,”
she said, “he's beautiful. Our little boy. What shall we call him?”
“It is a boy? Are you certain?“ Jaramy looked worried for a moment.
“Of course I am.“ She missed Jaramy's look of worry because she was not taking her eyes off of the baby.
“Jandar.” replied Jaramy with a sigh, “It was my great grandfather's name and it should serve him well.”
“Oh it is perfect” she said, “Jandar, our baby boy.” she smiled contentedly but at the foot of the bed Jaramy had a concerned look on his face.
“Krista I have something that I must tell you,” he whispered softly.
“What do you need to say, my love?” she happily replied.
“It is... about my bloodline...” he said haltingly as he started to pace the length of the small room. “The first son of every first son in my bloodline is cursed...“
“Cursed?! In what way!?“
“They... go into uncontrollable fits of extreme rage when they are threatened or angry... They do not recognize any harm that they may inflict upon themselves or others.”
“Why did you not tell me this earlier?” she shouted, looking as if he had struck her.
“I was hoping it would be a girl.” He cringed. “The signs do not manifest until they are eight, but there are ways to control it. We can teach him to discipline his mind.”
“We will make this work.” she said icily, “but we will have to talk about this later, right now I need to rest, I will see you in the morning. Goodnight Jaramy.”
“Goodnight Krista.” he replied. With a sigh he walked through the curtain into the other room. He dismissed the midwife after paying her for her services and then he sat on a chair in front of the fireplace and waited for sleep to overtake him.

[align=center:8d54ot4t]Chapter One‎: Early Childhood[/size:8d54ot4t][/align:8d54ot4t]
The day was bright and clear. A cloudless blue sky stretched unbroken over the small village. Jaramy looked out over it all from the porch in front of his house. and thought about how proud he was of his people who had accomplished so much in just five years. They had gone from just another refugee camp to a respectable farming community. And his son Jandar ,who was currently playing with a dog in the dirt, was growing strong, smart, and healthy. He had started walking at only four months old he started talking at one year. His fifth birthday had been five months ago.
Suddenly Jaramy's thoughts were interrupted by a loud scream from the yard. He looked over just in time to see Jandar with what looked like a large bloody bite taken out of his shoulder literally rip the head off of a large bull mastiff as one of the other boys from the village looked on in horror. “Nine Hells!” he cursed, leaping up from the chair he was sitting in. “You,” he called to the village boy “Go from here. Now!” He then ran to Jandar as quickly as he was able and carefully, very carefully let his mental handle on the ever-present rage slip just enough to enhance his strength. Then he wrapped his arms around his child. Jandar, however, kept struggling and, much to Jaramy's surprise, almost broke his grip. Jandar's rage was stronger than any other that Jaramy had heard about and it was manifesting three years before he thought was possible. Jaramy barely managed to hold Jandar until his rage quieted, more than an hour later. Jaramy looked at his son in awe. To have a rage enhance his strength so much and last so long at such a young age was unheard of. At an older age he would be unstoppable, nearly a force of nature. But he must learn control much sooner than normal. Jaramy mused, in only a few years he might accidentally kill grown men! he thought incredulously. It was only then that he noticed Krista standing next to him, a horrified look on her face. “How much did you see?” he asked her worriedly.
“I just saw our son rip the head from a large dog's shoulders.” she said, completely in shock from what she had just witnessed.
“Do not worry.” he tried to comfort her, “We can teach him mental discipline exercises so that he may control these rages of his. Trust me. I have dealt with this before. I myself, underwent this training. Now take Jandar and go inside. I will deal with this.” He gestured towards the headless corpse of the mastiff.
“I will try to trust you.” Krista said as she gathered her unconscious son in her arms and carried him inside to his bed. As she walked through the door she was not sure that she was able to trust Jaramy so much with the life of her only child. She knew that she had to try though. What other choice did she have?
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Jandar awoke confused. The last he remembered, he had been playing with Marc and one of the village dogs when suddenly there was a flash of pain then a torrent of red washing over him like a river... Then darkness. His eyes focused on both of his parents sitting over him. Seeing his eyes open they leaned in with concerned looks. “What happened?” he asked groggily. His father gave his mother a peculiar look and she nodded and left the room after giving Jandar a hug. He looked at his father once more. “Father, what's happening?” he said again. His father sighed and ran a hand over his face.
“Son, you must be very careful from now on...” He reached out to put a hand on Jandar's shoulder. “Our family has a curse... it has for a very long time. The firstborn son is the only one who is cused though. Whenever we are hurt or angered we get very, very angry. Sometimes we hurt people while we are this angry because we just can't control ourselves. You are my first born...”
“Was that what happened outside? Did I hurt anyone?” Jandar broke in horrified.
“Son before I tell you this I want you to know that this was not your fault at all... you killed the dog that you were playing with after it bit you, and if that boy had been near, you would probably have killed him too...”
“No!” shouted Jandar tears running down his face. He was only five years old and he could barely comprehend the fact that he had just killed one of his favorite village dogs and could have killed his best friend Marc.“
“Be calm my son, it wasn't you, it was the curse,” his father said soothingly, “and it can be controlled. I will teach you how.” Jandar looked up eyes still teary.
“Really, you can?“ he replied hopefully. “I won’t have to hurt anyone?“
“Of course my son.” His father smiled comfortingly.
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The next day Jandar was up and in the dining room at the table before the sun had risen. His father there as well and he was talking. “If you wish to control this rage within you, then you must achieve complete discipline over your mind and body. This is no easy feat, it may take decades. Some strive for their whole lives and still never accomplish this.
“Our family however has perfected a method of teaching discipline to young people that uses some techniques borrowed from the eastern monks, some from the fighting masters of the south, and of course some that we made ourselves over the years. You must begin this training today. From now until the day you complete your training do not think of me as your father, think of me as your instructor.”
“Yes Father.” said Jandar timidly.
“No!” Jaramy shouted back. “Not Father. You will call me Sir.”
“yes Fa- Sir” Jandar said quietly crying.
“You must stop crying.” his father said firmly. “That is one of the surest signs that you are not in control of your emotions.”
“Yes Sir,” Jandar said as he dried his tears on his sleeve as he sniffled out the last of them.
“From this day forth you will say nothing unless I require a response from you. Is that clear?” Jaramy asked while pacing on the other side of the table from where Jandar sat
“Yes Sir,” Jandar responded.
“Now, we start your training. Here,” Jaramy produced a small bag and a pair of tweezers. “Take the sand out of this bag one grain at a time and pile it on the table. Get me when you have finished.” He set the bag and tweezers on the table and left. Three hours later Jandar was finally finished and he was feeling famished as well. He got up and walked into the kitchen where his father, no his sir, sat reading a book. Jandar walked up to him and almost spoke before he remembered that he wasn't supposed to talk. He then tapped Sir on the shoulder. “You are done?” he asked, not looking up from the book. Jandar nodded. “Good. Now go put the sand back in the bag one grain at a time. Once you have finished come back to me and we shall have breakfast.”

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So it went day in and day out Jandar made great progress in his work with discipline and was soon in amazing control of his mind. More in control as a child than most adults. Eventually when three years had passed his father whom he now knew only as Sir allowed him to speak when he wished.
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A week after his eighth birthday, something interesting happened to Jandar. During one of his infrequent breaks in training he was playing in the dirt in front of his house when a girl, who looked to be about his age with long black hair and deep green, eyes walked up and spoke to him ”Hi, my family is new here. We just moved in a few days ago. My father plans to build an inn. He told me that the mayor lived here. Does he? What's your name? Do you live here too?” Jandar stopped playing with the wooden horse he held in his hand and looked at this girl for a moment. She talked more than anyone he had ever met and he was unused to such friendliness from anyone. When Marc had seen him go into his rage that day he had run off and the story had spread through the town. After that, Jandar had become a pariah in his village, shunned by all the other children. “Well? Are you going to answer me?” the girl asked.
“Yes.” Jandar said. “Which question first?”
“Hmm,” she looked thoughtful for a second “Your name I think.”
“My name is Jandar.” he replied.
“My name is Viera” she stuck out her hand towards him. He reached out and shook her hand. “We should go exploring!” she exclaimed. “I don't know anything around here so it will be an adventure!”
“Okay.” Jandar said. He put down his wooden horse and they walked off into the town. Eventually they got bored of the town struck off into the forest bordering its northern edge. After about a half hour of walking, talking, and general eight year old play they were walking through the underbrush when Jandar suddenly saw Viera trip and scream.
He had lost sight of her. “Viera!” he called running to where he had seen her go down. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, I'm fine,” she called back. Then she stepped through what looked like a solid wall of foliage in front of the trunk of a very large tree. “Come inside and look! We found a secret room in a tree!” Jandar let himself be pulled by the hand into the hidden cave-like hollow at the bottom of the tree. The entire hollow was about the size of a large shed, a stream ran through the back of it, and in various places along the wall the wood bulged out to form chair-like bumps. The walls and roof of the hollow were made entirely of roots and here and there light slipped through an opening between two of them. Just enough to light up the hollow quite nicely. “Isn't this incredible?” Viera asked. “Oh just look at it! It's beautiful. And it's ours” she held out her pinky to him her face going very solemn “We have to pinky swear that we will never tell anyone else about this. It will be our secret place to go when we need to.” Jandar was confused. He had never seen this before. “Have you never pinky sworn before? Well then let me show you how. It is the most unbreakable promise you can ever make. There's no going back on a pinky swear ever. No matter what,” she said as she grabbed his hand and made him stick out his little finger she then hooked her little finger around his and told him to do the same, then she shook. “There, it's done, now we can't tell anyone,” she said.
“I won’t.” Jandar said. They sat and talked, (well she talked and he listened mostly), for awhile longer then they went back to the village. As he was walking he was slightly in awe of what had happened that day. For the first time in three years he had a friend.
When he walked into his house he saw Sir sitting at the dining room table as calm as he always was. There was a man on the other side of the table he was tall and fat. At least six feet and with the bulk to go with it. He was standing menacingly over the table with his hands planted firmly on its top. “... You keep him away from my Viera!” the man was yelling “I don't want that little monster anywhere near her! I heard what he did to that dog!”
“If you have a request to make of my son you may ask him to his face. He will do so if he is inclined to.” his father replied icily, giving the man a glare that lowered the temperature of the room. The big man sputtered, all his bluster stolen by Sir's cold words. “In fact he is right there behind you if you wish to talk to him.” Sir said gesturing towards Jandar. The man turned around. His face was very red and round and he looked very angry.
“What seems to be the problem?” asked Jandar.
The man bent down to Jandar's eye level and said very quietly and dangerously, “You stay away from Viera you little monster. Don't you ever go near her again do you understand me?”
“Excuse me but what have I done to earn this anger sir?” Jandar replied, confused.
“I heard what you did to that dog, you freak! I don't want anyone who can do that near my daughter.” the man said with venom in his voice.
“I assure you sir, I am completely under control at every moment of every day. I would never allow Viera to come to any harm as she is the only one in this village who has shown me any measure of kindness in a very long time.” Jandar said very matter-of-factly
The man was taken aback by the child in front of him that talked like a reasonable adult. As he calmed down a bit he said thoughtfully. “You do seem very stable... alright. I will tell Viera what you did and let her decide. Good day.” the man then walked out the door. Jandar's heart fell. Once Viera knew she would surely be terrified of him and no longer wish to be friends.
“That was Mort. He moved here three days ago and is going to build an inn. What did you do today during your free time?” Sir asked. Jandar told him about all that he had done that day except for finding the hollow. He would keep the pinky swear he had made.
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The Jandar was not allowed free time for another week after this. It was difficult for him to concentrate on his mental discipline exercises. He was worried about whether or not Viera would still be friends with him. Who wants to be friends with a monster? He thought. That is what I am I've heard them talk. They all say it when I pass by.
"Jandar, pay attention!" Jandar's mind immediately snapped back to the task at hand. He was standing in front of a padded pole in the dusty courtyard behind his house under the sweltering summer sun, holding a wooden imitation of a broadsword. Sir trained him in combat with the for the same reason as the monks of the east. To excel in combat you must be in complete control of your body as well as your mind at all times. Jandar realized that Sir had probably called a few sequences while he had been deep in thought. "You cannot maintain total mental discipline if you are not focused. Now attack sequences 12, 7, and 9 in that order. Go!"
"Yes Sir," Jandar responded as he flew into a series of difficult and complicated maneuvers with his fake sword.
About 3 hours later it was midday and Sir had told him that he would be allowed the rest of the day as free time. Jandar knew where he needed to go immediately. He went off down the small hill towards town to search for Viera. He hesitantly decided to go check the site where the inn was to be built. On the way there Jandar was walking through a cramped space between two houses when he felt a tap on his shoulder from behind him. He whirled around into a defensive posture.
"Hi there jumpy pants." Viera was there, and she was smiling.
"I don't understand." Jandar said, confused. Most people shunned him after learning about what he had done and could do. "Aren't you afraid of me?"
"Why would I be scared of you? You're not scary at all," she held out her hand expectantly.
"But didn't your father tell you about me? I'm a monster. An abomination..." He looked down and kept his face carefully empty of the sadness and self loathing that he felt inside. She grabbed his hand when he made no attempt to take hers.
"Sure he did but I wanted to hear what happened from you, since you were there. And don't say that you're a abo... abomi... whatever that is. And you aren't a monster. You're nice." She smiled even brighter than before. "So what did happen?"
"I don't remember." Jandar's face was completely blank as he looked back up at her. "Sir told me that I had ripped the head off of a dog I was playing with. All I remember is that I was playing with a dog, then it bit me and everything went red. Then I woke up in my bed." He turned his face to the side in shame.
"Silly! Why are you so sad about that? It was obviously not your fault since you don't remember any of it. Now lets go play!" She pulled Jandar along towards the woods. "We can play tag, do you want to play tag? I want to play tag. Oh, please can we play tag?" Jandar was slightly awed by this girl who out of all the people in the entire town had absolutely no care for what he was. He didn't quite understand what love was but he read a lot and the adults often wrote about it. And he wasn't sure but he thought that love is what he was feeling for Viera right now. He looked at her in a new way. She was pretty even at only eight.
"Of course. Lets go." As Jandar allowed himself to be pulled along by Viera he carefully allowed the ghost of a smile to show on his face.

[align=center:8d54ot4t]Chapter Two: Late Childhood[/align:8d54ot4t][/size:8d54ot4t]
Jandar was excited. Today was his eleventh birthday. Sir was allowing him the entire day to himself. He was going to go to the inn where he would find Viera, then they were going to go to their hollow in the woods. Viera had said that she had a surprise for him there. Viera. He couldn't help but smile when he thought about her. She was so beautiful and happy. Not to mention intelligent and brave and kind. Just being around her made him enormously happy. At this point he realized he was already in front of Mort's inn. He walked into the common room. It was a large open area with stairs leading to the rooms up to the left and a large fireplace to the right, and round tables with chairs around them scattered here and there about the room. Jandar made his way across the room to the bar where he found Mort.
"Suppose you're here lookin' for Viera," he said.
"Yes sir," Jandar responded respectfully. With his hands clasped behind his back/
"She told me to tell you to meet her there. Said you would know where 'there' is."
"Thank you sir." Jandar bowed and left the inn. Viera must already be there. He thought. I had better hurry. He decided to cut through a few back alleys to get to the forest as fast as possible. Suddenly Jandar heard a scream, it sounded like a young girl. It sounded like... Viera! He shouted her name as he ran. He had just reached the edge of the forest when he saw a large man who had Viera pinned up against a tree and was attempting to tear open the bodice of her dress. He quickly turned as he heard Jandar approaching in a full sprint. Jandar felt the red mist descending. He didn't care. This dirty ragged man was hurting Viera he deserved the full force of Jandar's rage. Suddenly Jandar's vision went completely red and he was no longer in control.
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Viera had been planning this day for a week. She was going to meet up with Jandar in their hollow to give him his present and share a sweet roll. She pulled his present from her pocket to admire it. It was a dagger of elvish make, with a curved blade. The pommel was a piece of jade fashioned to look like a leaf. The handle was wrapped in burnished copper wire and it had a crosspiece fashioned to look like the branches of a tree. It's craftsmanship was exquisite and she saved every copper nub she had come across for two months to afford it. She had seen it in the window of the pawnbroker and just known that Jandar would love it. She put it back into her pocket and hurried on towards the forest. Just as she reached the edge of the forest a hand darted from behind a tree and clamped around her arm.
The hand holding her arm was large and hairy and smelled strongly of alcohol and urine. It was brown with dirt. She pulled away from it but its grip was vice-like. A man stepped out from behind the tree and she saw that the hand was attached to his arm which was just as dirty and smelly as his hand. He was dressed in a sleeveless leather jerkin and linen trousers that might have originally been a color that was not brown.
"Well look what we have here." The man leered evilly. "What's a pretty little thing like you doing all the way out here all alone?" Viera struggled against his grip but he was about four times her size.
"Let me go you cretin!" she shouted.
"But I'm just getting started little missy." He shoved her roughly against a tree as she screamed at the top of her lungs. She pulled out Jandar's present and tried to stab the man in the face but he grabbed her wrist, took the dagger and stuck it in his belt. "None of that now." He chuckled. Then, just as the disgusting man was reaching for her bodice Jandar appeared running towards her faster than anything she had seen before. The man turned to look and laughed as he saw a boy running at him. "Now don't you move little lady. I have to deal with this."
The man pulled the dagger from his belt and turned to face Jandar. Viera noticed that Jandar's eyes were crimson. There were no whites, only red, even the pupils. Jandar's face contorted with unnatural rage and he let loose an inhuman snarl of anger. He reached the man and stopped in front of him to throw a punch at his jaw. The man blocked the punch with his wrist and there was a crack and a howl of pain. Jandar had only struck him a glancing blow but it had incredible strength behind it. He then stabbed Jandar in the other arm. Jandar snarled and turned his arm which twisted the dagger out of the other mans grasp. Jandar then punched the man. He hit him again and again and again. He hit him until he stopped moving and then he kept hitting him. Suddenly Jandar's mother appeared seemingly out of nowhere.
"Jandar, stop!" She grabbed his shoulder. Jandar pulled the knife from his arm and slashed her neck as he turned around in one savage movement. Blood sprayed through the air and the moment seemed to freeze in time. All of a sudden Jandar was back in control and every muscle in both of his arms was screaming with pain. Nothing mattered though. All he saw was his mother falling to the ground little ruby drops flying free of her throat. He was numb. His mothers blood burned on his face. He had just killed her. She was dead. His mother. His kind, loving, caring mother. Dead by his hand. He dropped to the ground and cradled her body in his arms and rocked back and forth, his shoulders shaking, sobbing, letting out odd little choked sounds. He did not notice Viera run off. In a little while Viera returned with Jandar's father. Jaramy fell to his knees beside the body of his wife.
"No," he murmured, "no." He couldn't believe it. His beloved, beautiful, Krista, always smiling and always enduring whatever the circumstances. She was gone. She couldn't just be gone. "What happened?" he asked Jandar. Jandar looked up, the blood sprayed across his face had dried there.
"Me." Instantly Jaramy understood and guessed at what had happened. He looked around and saw the brutalized body of a large man sitting about 10 feet from where he was kneeling.
"You lost control. Why?" Jaramy's face was carefully sculpted into a blank emotionless mask.
"The man was trying to hurt Viera. I entered the rage, then mother tried to stop me and just before the rage left me I... I... killed her." Jandar burst into tears for the first time in six years. Jaramy reached out to Jandar and held his son close.
"Shh... Shh." Jaramy comfortingly patted Jandar on the back. After nearly an hour of rocking back and forth in grieving silence Jaramy spoke in a quiet tone. "You." He pointed at Viera. "Take Jandar home. I need to bury my wife."
On the walk home Jandar looked at Viera and said in a numb voice, "Now you have seen me as I truly am. You need to stay away from me. I'm a monster." Jandar looked down at the dagger still held in his hand. He would keep it as a reminder that he must never again lose control.
"Do not be foolish. That was not you back there. I saw your face at the moment in which you changed and I saw it when you came back to yourself. I know it was not you. It was not your fault." Jandar looked at her. At that moment, Jandar thought that he knew what love was and he was definitely in love with Viera. However, Jandar still couldn’t believe her. He had seen his mother killed by his own hand. Nothing would convince him that he was anything but a monster. It wouldn’t do to let anyone know how he felt though. So he kept his feelings to himself and wore a mask fashioned to look like her words had comforted him.

[align=center:8d54ot4t]Chapter Three: The Beginning[/size:8d54ot4t][/align:8d54ot4t]
There was a tremendous cracking sound as splintered wood flew through the air from the target dummy Jandar had snapped completely in half with his blunted practice sword. "Enough!" called Jaramy, "weapons practice is over now. The rest of the day is yours."
Jandar went off to his room to change into clean trousers and a clean tunic. Today was his 16th birthday but he hadn’t celebrated his birthday since that day five years ago. However today he was actually happy for once. He and Viera were to be wed in three days time. Jandar had finally proposed to her at the end of last month and the date had been set as soon as possible. Jandar did have reservations though. He still knew he was a monster. He didn’t think that he should spoil her beauty and perfection by joining it with his scarred and destructive self. It made her happy however and that was all that Jandar needed. Jandar finished changing and belted on his dagger. He then left the house to search for Viera. As he was leaving, he saw something odd in the courtyard. Sir was talking to three men on horseback, all of them armed with heavy steel shields and broadswords and dressed in mail. All three of them displayed black spades on white circles prominently on their persons and shields. Other than the white circle on which the spades rested every single piece of their equipment was black.
The front man of the three was a powerfully built man of about five and a half feet. His hair was down past his shoulders and a golden red color. His face had a perpetual angry look to it. "… about three days behind us," he was saying, "I can offer our services for two gold sovereigns."
"This sounds like a trick to me," Sir replied, "please leave in peace." Sir eyed their weapons.
"Your loss." The man turned and shouted at the other two, "Privates! Move out!" The three men turned their horses about and rode down the hill, away from the town. Odd thought Jandar.
"What was that about?" Jandar walked up to Sir.
"Nothing you need to worry about." Sir turned to him. "You should be going off to the site."
"Just where I was headed actually," Jandar said, as he started off in the direction of the house he was building for Viera and he to live in after their wedding. It was already finished but only he and Viera knew that. They liked to sit on the porch and talk or just enjoy the quiet with each other. He got to the house, which was not far from the forest, and found Viera already there. Jandar decided to surprise her. He flattened himself against the bushes in the tree line and silently walked up the porch in a crouch.
"If you are not to busy playing around I might like you to come here and kiss me." Viera smiled. Jandar rose from his crouch and jumped over the handrail he had built onto the porch. He landed a few feet from Viera, who stood up from where she was sitting and walked into his open arms. Jandar then planted a tender kiss on her lips.
"Why is it that I can never sneak up on you?" Jandar kissed her again.
"A woman must have her secrets." Viera laughed and grabbed his hands. "Come inside love, I have a surprise." Jandar allowed himself to be pulled into the house. She led him through the sitting room and kitchen to the bedroom that would be theirs. "Look." She pointed to a masterfully crafted bed with a beautiful oak frame carved with leaf designs and a thick mattress covered with a comforter which was embroidered with a forest scene.
"Where did you get this love of mine?" Jandar asked.
"It was a gift from my father." She flopped down onto the bed. "He made the frame himself and my mother did the embroidery on the bedspread. Come try it. It really is very soft." Jandar walked to the bed and sat down next to Viera.
"I must remember to thank Mort the next time I see him. This is very generous." Jandar looked to Viera who was laying across the bed. She moved so that her head was resting in Jandar's lap. They sat there like that for a long while before Jandar finally spoke. "It is getting dark, we should not stay here for very much longer."
"Or." Viera looked up at him. "We could stay here for the night."
"It wouldn’t be proper for us to stay. We are not wed yet." Jandar shook his head.
"Who cares about 'proper'." She drew him down into a deep kiss. He resisted only a little at first but then allowed himself to be drawn in.
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Jandar woke in the morning with Viera tucked close by his side her head resting on his broad chest. The sun was shining brightly through the window. Jandar let out a contented sigh and kissed the top of Viera’s head. Then he looked back out the window. The sun was shining! He was supposed to be training before dawn! He gently woke Viera.
"Mmm?" She smiled.
"I have to leave now." he said as he quickly got out of bed and put on his trousers and tunic. "I was supposed to be at training before sunrise." Jandar belted on his dagger.
"Goodbye then dearest." She rose from the bed quite beautiful and quite naked, then she went to Jandar and gently kissed him. "Until tomorrow. Don’t forget." She smiled at him.
"Tomorrow," Jandar repeated. He then raced from the house. Judging by the position of the sun he was two hours late. Sir was going to be furious. He ran full speed through the streets of the town until he reached the hill where Sir's house sat. Sir was sitting in a chair in the courtyard. When Jandar walked in he raised one eyebrow.
"And where have we been?" Sir asked, standing up. Jandar's face turned red and he looked down. "Ah, I see. Don’t worry your secret is safe with me. One thing though before we start training today. I know that tomorrow is a special day for you two so I have a gift for you." He reached behind his back and pulled out something long and straight, wrapped in cloth. He then handed it to Jandar. "Go ahead then. Unwrap it." Jandar unwrapped the cloth and he was left holding a sword. It looked like a typical broadsword except that it was about a foot longer and had a basket hilt the hilt was designed to look like a stylized bush with branches and leaves. The blade looked to be made of dull unassuming steel. The edge was razor sharp. The handle was wrapped in simple black leather which looked well worn. The pommel was a four inch spike that could be detached to become a small knife. The craftsmanship was magnificent. "You may need to protect yourself, your land, and your family. This sword was given to me by your mothers father. It has served me well through the years. Now it is yours. Here is its scabbard." He handed Jandar a simple black leather sheath that Jandar took and belted on. Jandar then sheathed the sword at his left hip.
"Thank you Sir. This is a truly beautiful weapon." Jandar bowed.
"Now, today’s training won’t be our usual. Today you will learn to use your rage without being consumed by it." Sir pointed to a large rock about twice Jandar's size. "You will lift that rock. Now go and sit in front of it. Good. Now. Reach into your mind and look for your rage. It is always there under all the other emotions. Once you find it picture a river. Large, red, and strong. Carefully step into this river, this red river of rage.
"Feel its strength. Do not fight it physically for that will not work. This fight is entirely in your mind. Your strength is equal to that of your will. Once you have reached the center the current will be at its strongest but you must resist its pull. Once you are stable then stand up and lift that rock and throw it as far as possible."
Jandar slowly stood and with a grunt lifted the huge stone over his head. Then with a roar he threw it across the courtyard and over the house. The rock kept going until it finally landed with a gigantic thud in the neighboring field. "Good." Jaramy was awed. He had never seen such strength, or even heard of it. "I think you have the hang of It. Now carefully retreat from the river. Now continueto enter and exit the river. Work on the speed at which you can do this. I will get you when you are finished."
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Jandar was standing at the Altar of Twelve watching Viera walk up the the aisle. The day had finally come. The shadows were growing longer. Viera was beautiful in her simple white dress. Tall and pale with raven hair flowing down her back in an inky cascade and eyes which shone like green stars. She reached the altar. "Ready?" She took his hands.
"Of course I am, dear one." Jandar looked into her eyes as the priest of the Twelve who was the only other one in the church led them through their vows. The ceremony was almost complete when the doors to the church burst open and in rushed the butcher.
"Bandits!" He was shouting at the top of his lungs when an arrow sprouted from his back and he fell to the floor face first. Jandar reacted immediately, pushing Viera and the priest behind him as, in through the door walked seven men each one dressed in ragged leathers and scraps of mail. Each of them had a sword in their hands. Jandar quickly stepped into the red river in his mind but as he took a step towards the men he heard some arcane gibberish shouted out and he was suddenly unable to move his body. A well dressed drow stepped out from behind the bandits. He looked to be a tall elf man but his skin was completely onyx black and his long straight hair was white as bone. He sneered.
"A wedding! How fortunate that we were here to stop such happiness from occurring." He looked at Jandar. "Did you really think you could best seven men by yourself? No matter." The priest started to cast a divine spell that would silence the drow and render him unable to cast magic but before he could finish the drow wizard uttered a syllable and pointed his finger at the old priest who screamed as he was enveloped by the flame shooting from the wizard's finger. "None of that now." The drow looked toward Viera. "What a pretty creature. Absolutely delectable. You would have been a very lucky man." The drow looked to his men and pointed at Viera. "Have some fun." NO! Jandar screamed over and over again in his head. He struggled with all his might against the mental shackles placed around him, to no avail. The drow walked to Jandar "My name is Anton D'ritae. Remember it." The drow then walked out without a backwards glance.
The bandits had dragged a kicking and screaming Viera out to the middle of the room. Right in front of Jandar. He couldn’t even close his eyes or turn his head. He was forced to watch as each of the seven men did what they wished with his beloved Viera. Hours later they had finished and one of them pulled out a dagger and put it up to Viera's throat.
"NO!" Jandar suddenly found himself able to move just as the bandit with the dagger jerked it across Viera's throat. In that moment Jandar lost any scrap of humanity left him. He let loose a primal, inhuman roar of anger, rage, and grief. He leaped to the nearest bandit, picked him up by both arms and threw him into the nearest wall with a sickening crunch. He then threw a punch at another mans face hard enough to crush his skull and shatter his neck. Then he ran straight for the man with the dagger. The one who had killed his Viera. The man saw him coming and was so terrified by Jandar's red eyes and face contorted with elemental fury that the air suddenly smelled of feces and urine. When Jandar reached the man he grabbed him by the shoulder and the hip, lifted him above his head, then tore the man completely in half. He was a tornado of destructive force, leaping from one bandit to the next, sustaining heavy wounds from some of their weapons but the blood and pain only seemed to strengthen his rage and made him more powerful. When the last bandit had been destroyed Jandar fell to his knees beside Viera's body. He was bleeding heavily from at least a dozen wounds but he still struggled through the pain and encroaching darkness to shut her eyes and arrange her gently as if she were only sleeping. Once he had done this he kissed his love one last time and gratefully allowed the darkness to take him.

Posts: 11
Joined: Tue Nov 20, 2012 7:04 am

Re: Jandar

Post by Olba'id » Wed Nov 21, 2012 6:32 am

[align=center:3ned4me6]Chapter Four[/size:3ned4me6][/align:3ned4me6]
Jandar awoke. He opened his eyes and wondered why he was lying on stone. He saw the familiar vaulted ceiling above him and realized that he was in the church of the Twelve. Odd. He thought. How did I get here? Then he turned his head to the side and everything came back to him in a flood of horrifying memories so intense that they physically hurt his head. Jandar reached up and covered his head with his arms as if to block the painful memories. They replayed anyways. Over and over inside his head in incredible detail. After sitting like this for an hour he realized something. A name. He had the drow's name. Anton, he had said. Anton D'ritae. Jandar committed every detail of the Drow to memory. The horrors of last night would be etched into his mind for the rest of his life.
He found himself thinking of one thing constantly. Killing Anton. Revenge was the only thing that he could think about. First though, he had to lay Viera to rest. He stood and instantly felt searing agony as three deep gashes made themselves known across his chest, back and shoulders. He clenched his teeth and looked down on her body. So beautiful. She looked as if she could be sleeping. A single tear made its way down his cheek and fell with no sound onto her face. Jandar knelt down beside her and held her in his arms one last time as he picked her up. The body was cold but he couldn't help remembering the warmth that seemed to radiate from her very soul. How could Viera have turned so cold she had, just the day before been so warm and full of life. Her smile had lit up his entire day. He could hardly think right now except to imagine getting revenge by killing Anton. Mind blank, moving on autopilot, he took viera out to the graveyard beside the church. He then laid her down gently on the ground and started to dig into the dry ground. One handful after another. Eventually his hands started to bleed. He kept digging. The gashes across his back and shoulders reopened. He kept digging.
[t:3ned4me6]Hours later he was drenched in sweat and blood and he was missing the nails on four of his fingers. He had finally dug a deep enough hole. Jandar slowly, painfully got to his feet and lifted Viera gently from the ground. He turned to the grave he had dug for her with his bare hands. He then lowered her down as slowly and gently as he possibly could. Then he took a handful of dirt and poured a thin stream from his hand onto her brow while reciting the traditional death prayer to Aisling, the goddess of death, dreams, and sleep. Then he filled in the rest of Viera’s grave. With each handful of dirt into the open grave went a single silent tear, and with each tear Jandar felt his resolve grow. He would kill Anton. He would kill Anton. The one thought burned in his mind taking over everything, burning away the tears that leaked from his eyes, numbing the agony inside and out. Replacing it with a sustaining flame of need. The need for revenge. The last handful of dirt landed on the ground in front of him. He knelt and pressed his forehead to the fresh grave. Sir! Suddenly Jandar realized that he had completely forgotten about his father.
Jandar hobbled through the blackened skeleton of what used to be his town. He passed the smoldering patch of charred rubble where Mort’s inn used to be only the day before. He limped past the bakery where he had used to enjoy the smell of fresh bread and pastries every evening on his walk home. He walked past all of his memories, twisted and distorted and burned to the ground. Like a nightmare version of his home, familiar and yet completely alien. He finally reached his father’s home on a hill overlooking the rest of the town. The wooden fence had been knocked over and lit on fire so that there were blackened and still smoldering planks of charcoal lying on the ground. The training dummies scattered around the courtyard had all been snapped or knocked over. The house itself was mostly intact. It had surprisingly, not caught fire.
[t:3ned4me6]Jandar steeled himself for what he might find and entered the house that he had lived in from the moment he had been born. What he saw hit him like a blow to the stomach. He could barely breathe. The table was flipped onto its side and there was a bloody sword embedded in its face. Jandar looked around and saw bodies everywhere. His father had not been defeated easily. Jandar walked past the table and through the doorway into the hallway. The door to his room was on the left and it remained closed. There was a trail of blood leading through the door to his right, the door to his father’s room. As he walked through he noticed that the door had been ripped from its frame and now lay in splinters on the floor. He looked around the room and saw yet more dead bandits. Sitting on the ground, his back propped up against the bed by the back wall was Sir, his father. Jandar rushed to his side and knelt down. He’s breathing. Jandar realized.
[t:3ned4me6]“Jandar, Is that you?” Sir coughed wetly.
[t:3ned4me6]“Yes Sir.” Jandar said quietly
[t:3ned4me6]“Come close son, I must… must tell you.” Sir took a deep, rattling breath. “You need to know about the drow.”
[t:3ned4me6]“I met him. He immobilized me when I tried to defend Viera…” Jandar looked away. “I couldn’t do anything.”
[t:3ned4me6]Sir grabbed Jandar by the front of his shirt. “Do NOT let your grief consume you! This drow, Anton, is the one who laid the curse on our family. He has hated our line for two hundred years. We used to be nobles. Kings of the western lands. Then he came along and decided that we were too happy and prosperous. He cursed us thinking that no one would be able to hold together a family line with a curse like that. We persevered, however. We taught ourselves the training regimen that you have been going through. This lasted for about one hundred and eighty years.
[t:3ned4me6]“He then returned to our lands and he was enraged that we had managed to find happiness even with our curse. He summoned a demon from the blackest depths of the Ninth Circle of the Abyss. He made a deal with this demon and they together gathered an army made up of criminals, orcs, lesser demons, and servants of Ravnica, Anton’s evil goddess. They ripped through any defenses that we managed to put up. We had been at peace for so long that we did not expect to have to defend ourselves. I was prince at this time. My father, the king ordered me to take a group of refugees and flee the kingdom. I did, and our flight ended here. You must defeat him Jandar. Son. Our family will never know happiness until you do. Goodbye son… know that you have made me proud. Your mother would be proud as well…”
[t:3ned4me6]Jaramy’s eyes clouded over and his hand fell from Jandar’s tattered, bloodied shirt. Jandar let out a howl of grief and rage at the ceiling. Everything. All of it had been taken from him in one night. All that he had cared about in this world, destroyed by one man. Jandar remembered that Sir had not buried his mother but he had set her upon a pyre that night and set it ablaze at sundown and he had watched stony faced until it had burned to nothing more than ashes. Jandar somehow knew that Sir would prefer this to a traditional burial of the Twelve. He dragged Sir out to the courtyard and built him a pyre from the straw and wood of the practice dummies. He then growled and blocked out the pain as he lifted Sir onto the pyre. He then searched the house for the flint and took it out to the pyre. By this time it was nearly sundown. Jandar waited. When the sun was setting he struck his knife against the flint and ignited the straw with the sparks, which in turn ignited the wood. He watched silently as Sir left this world in a cloak of flames that would leave behind nothing but ashes and blackened, crumbling bone. Deep into the night the fire had finally died.
[t:3ned4me6]Jandar left for his house that he and Viera had finished building just a week before. There it stood strangely untouched, tucked away in a small dip in the tree line with a large field on one face that he was to have farmed with Viera, side by side. He entered what had been his home. It was exactly the same as he had left it, only two days ago? Yes, only two. It felt like another lifetime. He looked around the entry room and saw what he was looking for. His sword, given to him by his father. Jandar lifted the sword from its brackets on the wall above the fireplace. He then strapped the sword to his belt in its simple black leather sheath. He then walked into the next room over which would have been the kitchen. He had already stored some flour and other cooking supplies in the cupboard he grabbed the salted

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