The day was sour and just as the stories said such a day should be, dark
where thick clouds blotted out the sun and wet with the pervasive damp of a
roiling fog. Filthy, foul, and generally disgusting, these are the ways to
describe such a day as this. It melted into his bones, the sole guardsman
standing outside a thick planked oak door, set in an alley between two dark
brick buildings right along a wharf in a seaside city. Behind those stout
oaken boards officers were meeting, regarding a war with a city far to the
west. The guardsman didnt know what the cities name was, he wasnt really
being paid to consider such things. He wasnt paid much at all, come to
that. Being conscripted from a local village, the options given him had
been simple, come earn a minimal wage or die. To the guardsmans mind, this
didnt seem like much of a choice. Still, being wet and miserable outside
that oaken door, while the officers were warm and filled with wine within,
chafed at him.
Glancing around the dark alley, the guardsman sighed and shivered, taking a
rolled up cigarette from behind his ear. Thankfully, his helmet had saved
it, at least, from this pervasive damp. Putting it between his lips, the
guardsman looked about carefully and then muttered some words causing the
end of the roll up to catch fire. He was always careful to show the
abilities taught to him by his mother, for fear of their being used some
where on the front lines. He didnt think they were very useful for anything
dangerous, but still, he didn't like the idea of being in harms way. With
the vision of the flame on the end of his roll up still filling his eyes and
thoughts of his mother and home filling his mind, the guardsman completely
failed to see the blow that came out of the night and smashed into the side
of his face.
The guardsman awoke to heat, banishing the chill of the docks. Too hot. He
stirred himself, his head aching with each crash of waves upon the distant
shore and the roaring of a furnace above his head. He was still outside,
but the cross braces that ran above the alley were all aflame. He stood
uncertainly, wavering a bit and finally steadying himself, feeling his head
with numb fingers. There was a large knot on the side of his skull.
Pulling his hand back, he saw blood.
He turned and looked behind him and saw the door he was set to guard hanging
askew. Panic welled inside of him, as all of this came crashing home.
Desperately he searched the ground and found his weapon, an old rusted
spear. Holding it in front of him, he poked the door open with the spear
point, his whole body trembling with fear.
Looking inside the room, the guardsman found a bloody mess. Bodies strewn
everywhere, all in the dark armor of the officers he was set to into his
guard. Still shaking, now from what seemed like a cold that was pulling
into his bones. It was uncontrollable now, the shivering. His eyes found
the bodies again, wrapped in the warm linens and coats that officers were
given. With numb fingers and shaking vision, he began the methodical
process of stripping down the senior officer of his warm clothes.
Pulling on the clothes and doing his best to ignore the fresh blood stains
on his newly acquired clothing, he walked slowly out of the building,
clutching the spear to his side as a makeshift walking stick. As he
stumbled through the door, the flames finally having dissipated, what he saw
caused his stomach to turn once more. Standing in what remained of the
alley, was a large being, a great figure of stories, easily twice as tall as
the guardsmans own six feet of height. It was covered in armor that shined
brightly despite the burnished marks of recent fighting. As it turned its
head towards him, the guardsman dropped his spear, his mouth open, but with
no sounds coming out despite his horror. His last thought as the monster
moved with unnerving speed, was of his wool coat and pants, freshly found on
the corpses of the fallen.
The Man Broken - Part 2
The days that followed were the worst in the guardsmans life. Hed awake
to bumps and being jostled awake, in the back of a cart, only to be clubbed
back into unconsciousness. When he finally was allowed to fully awaken, he
found himself lying in a cell, completely naked save for a burlap bag. He
was only vaguely aware of it, compared to the situation in which he found
himself.
Even as he stood, panic welling in his chest and stomach, the thick door
opened to admit a pair of guards, cudgels held in their thick hands. One
stepped forward as he opened his mouth and clipped him in the temple,
causing lights to flash before his eyes. When his vision cleared, lying on
the ground, he saw a pair of very nice boots, beside the guards thick soled
leathers. Glancing up, he a saw the smooth face of a young man, perhaps
middle aged or younger, it was difficult to tell. He had long silvery hair,
brushed and held back by a silver clasp which revealed a lobeless upturned
ear.
Elf, he gasped aloud. He hadnt meant to, but it was such a shock to see
this fictional creature come to life before him.
The elf nodded, his lips narrowed, Of course, he said, you would know that
would you not? You who have ordered so many of my kind to death, High Lord
Iksan.
The guardsman moved to his knees and hands, wincing as one of the guards
took a step closer in a threatening way, Im not, not the High Lord. Im a
guard, only a guard.
The elf shook his head, gesturing to the guard who moved with a sudden
swifteness planting a boot straight into the guardsmans stomach. What is
your name, guardsman? The elf filled the word guardsman with as much scorn
as he could.
Thomas, Thomas Gilderbrant.
The elf smiled a slight smile, Thomas, Thomas Gilderbrant. So tell me,
Thomas, scorn again, why were you found wearing an officer's clothing and in
a place, so our spies inform us, where a meeting was taking place of a group
tasked with the murder of children?
Thomas opened his mouth to deny, to explain, but the beating began in
earnest as he tried. The guards laid into him with their cudgels and boots,
earning cries of despair for their efforts. Through the sudden ringing in
his ears from constant blows to the head and face, he heard sound of a soft
voice saying, Deny it all you wish, High Lord Iksan, we will have the truth
of the matter, one way or the other.
Darkness took Thomas.
The Darkness Unleashed - Part 3
Thomas awoke, covered in mud, blood and feces. Everything about him
hurt, but he no longer was afraid as he had been. As near as he could tell,
hed spent six years in that prison, before his life was finally spent. He
had lost more than he could possibly tell and fear was the least of this.
He looked around at what felt like only half a picture, one of the major
losses from his time as a prisoner and he wondered at his life restored. He
climbed to his feet, strong for what seemed like the first time in a
lifetime. He sensed a presence behind him. He didnt look around, not at
first, simply observing far more calmly then he should have, a scene of
carnage and death around him. He was in a grave. Looking down, he saw
himself eviscerated, his stomach leaking all of its vital contents. He
wasnt shocked by this which he thought was strange.
Thomas said aloud, Are you responsible for this then?
The response came as from the end of a chasm, but it didnt answer him,
instead it asked, Will you seek out revenge?
Am I not dead?
Only if I desire it.
What good is revenge? The world needs change.
What change do you desire?
A proper order, not filled with the hierarchy of states and mortals. A
grand thing, filled with structure.
I will give you this power.
Even as he heard this in his head, he felt his body shifting and churning.
The wound across his stomach returned to flesh once more. His broken
fingers and toes healed. Still, half the world existed, but it would do for
now.
What will I give in return? Thomas asked.
Order.
What shall I call you?
Darkhan.
Description:
A tall, well muscled figure with the gait of a gentlemen, easy and graceful, strides along here. He appears to be a man of some assurance and influence. Long black hair falls in slow ringlets down his back, his hair and person radiating a smell of fresh roses. Dark long lashes frame a pair of vibrant blue eyes, that are almost pale enough to be considered milky. It is obvious from how he looks around, however, that he is not blind. His straight and even teeth are exposed whenever he smiles benevolently on those who pass him by, in a most condescending fashion.
[reply to Faelon]