Warning: This story contain spoiler, violence and mature contents.
Chapter II: Regression.
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In the silence of dawn, the town of Ralnoth stirred with sluggishness.
Recovering from yet another night of murders, bar-fights, trades and crimes,
the day seemed to had, if not completely, partially restored some assembly
of order. The morn was like a dewy shroud that blanketed the town and the
grey stone walls of the Ralnoth's school for newbies. Further to the east,
one could see the looming towers of Ralnoth's University and the faint
movements atop the castle walls as sentries milled about, patrolling the
outer perimeter of the campus.
The sky was cloudless, and a gentle breeze could be felt by those who were
up and out at this early hour. Here and there, one could hear the barking of
dogs and the heavy sounds of doors being slammed as some establishments
closed down during the day. Yet even at this early hour, the poorly tended
lawn of the School for Newbies was already being trampled by the feet of
many eager, young ones who were up and practicing their newly developed
techniques. Tis was the site I was treated to, as I emerged from the forest
and entered the school-ground through the western archway of the campus.
My mind was assaulted by a wave of memory as I walked across the field of
unkempt grass and wild flowers. Almost without thinking, I surveyed the
ground, and there it was, lying amidst a saggy bunch of daisies, a fuzzy
peach of magical property. Left here daily by the acolyte of Dentin who
resided on the campus, the peach was known to grant extra strength to the
person who could find and hold it. However, the peach's property would be
lost if it was eaten instead of held, but that did not stop me. Bending
down, I palmed the peach when I was sure that no one was looking, and in two
bites, I finished the delicious find and sacrificed the pit to my goddess of
insanity. Extra strength might be nice, but breakfast should always come
first.
As I proceeded across the field, I was suddenly surrounded by a group of
four young students. Their years ranged from eight to probably fourteen, and
they all wore the same nervous and excited expression of someone who had
just realized that Dentin did exist and was standing right before them. They
pointed at me, at my armor and shield, and whispered to one another
animatedly. Finally, one of the taller ones, a teenage girl with delicate
features and fiery red hair, stepped forward.
"G'good mornin' Sir Knight,' she hailed me, a hint of shakiness in her
voice. "Um, we were wondering... That is... Might you be Pharel Stormblade
of Blackwind?"
"Good morrow lass," I replied, halting as I looked down at the young girl
and her friends. "Stormblade I am, and tis from the Wind that I've come."
The girl's eyes blinked when I spoke, and she turned to her friends and
gestured and whispered to them after I had confirmed my identity. Suddenly,
they all began to speak at once. I was bombarded with questions such as 'was
I really as good as legend has told,' 'was I a follower of the God of
Destruction,' 'where did I aquired my skills and spells,' and 'was I for
good or for evil'. The questions ceased as abruptly when the children
noticed my cold gaze and tight lips.
Turning to her friends, the girl whispered to them sharply before turning
back to look up at me. A faint blush tainted her cheeks as she lowered her
eyes quickly.
"I.I'm sorry, Sir Stormblade. It's just that..."
Raising a hand, I stopped her apology and said, "No need to be sorry. Tis
just I have no wish of discussing myself just to prove the right or wrong of
rumours." And, to put the children at ease, I smiled gently down at them and
added, "I am not a knight by right, so you have no need to address me so.
You can call me by the name I am known as, and that is all the title I
crave."
"Yes Sir...er, Pharel," the girl answered, seemingly even more nervous than
before.
"Now," I continued after an uncomfortable pause. "I heard that there's an
orc among you?"
"Ha!" one younger student shouted excitedly. "Did I not tell ya, Pharel
Stormblade has come to slay the orc?"
"Hush up, you idiot!" the girl turned angrily to the speaker, a boy around
the age of eleven. Turning back to me, she quickly said, "Please, he is but
a child, I am sure that, um, a great hero like you would not slay a child
just because of his race?"
"Easy lass," I said with a smile, "I have no wish to harm the orc child, but
if you have no objection, I shall like to have a word with him."
"He doesn't talk right! He's crazy, stupid, and an orc!" the young boy piped
up again.
Rounding onto the boy, the girl hissed at him, "Jimmy, if you do not hush
up, I will tell the head trainer of the time when I found you with Newbie
and Stoner..."
"Okay! Okay!" the boy waved his hand and said in a hurry to stop the girl
from saying more. Muttering under his breath, he looked balefully at the
girl and quieted down.
However, no further clue was needed. From my earlier days of being a
follower of Cygnii, the god of lies, I was familiar with all those who
resided within the domain of the Father of Deceptions. Two of those whom I
remembered were the pair of drug pushers, Newbie and Stoner, who made the
diner of Cygnii's temple their base of opperation. If this boy was involved
with the two criminals, I could not blame him for not wishing the head
trainer to hear of it. Of course, the boy did seem a bit young to be using
any hard substance, but the mere knoledge of him talking to the drug pushers
would be enough to earn him a good deal of caning from the head trainer.
As the girl turned back to face me, I saw in her eyes the distrust she
felt towards my request of audience with the young orc. Thus, I explained to
her what I had heard from the scout on the previous night, and expressed my
interest in the matter. When she still looked doubtful, I nodded and said,
"I shall give you my word that as long as I am here, the orc will not be
harmed in any way."
Looking thoughtful, the girl said carefully, "I have heard that the words of
Pharel Stormblade are as good as his skills in battle... Very well, I will
show you where he is." With that, she turned on her heels and walked slowly
towards the northern edge of the field.
As I trailed behind the lifely young girl, I heard one of the students
said from behind me, "I'll be just like you one day! I will fight dragons,
slay demons, and make my name be known!" Spinning around, I saw that the
speaker was a boy who appeared to be the youngest of the group. Rounding on
my heels, I gazed into the boy's emerald eyes and said softly, "Mayhapse you
will child, but before you go slay them evil, enjoy the flowers, butterflies
and youth as much as you can, for once you've traveled the way of the blade,
you will always dream the dream of death." then, I turned away and hurried
to keep up with my young guide.
-------
The girl had departed quietly as the young orc loaded me down with his
tale, a look of embarrassment upon her face. Was she embarrassed at the
behavior of this poor, wretched creature who seemed half mad and mostly
dumb, or the wrong that her fellow human had done to such a creature? I had
no answer, and had not the reason to ponder such a question. The orc child
was still hopping and cursing as I walked away, my head lowered in
contemplation of my next move. If the rumours were true, than this should've
been the matter of the school, yet from what I've seen, no one had even
concerned themselves with the trouble of a crazed, young orc. My next step
seemed to have been decided as I found myself pacing the front hall of the
school. I would bring the matter up with the head trainer himself, and I
would have an explaination from him. Thus, I mounted the stairs that led to
the training center of the institute, and found my former teacher where I
new he could be found.
--------
The training center of Ralnoth's school was but a simple room with no
furnishing except a small sign which said, 'Dungeon - east. Shopkeepers -
west.' The most important feature of the room, and at the moment of my
arrival, it's sole occupant, was the tall man who was pacing back and forth
across the floor. It had been years since I left the school with his
blessing, yet the head trainer had not changed much beyond a few more lines
beneath his sharp eyes, and hair that seemed to be a tad greyer than I
recalled.
An aging man, full of knoledge and still strong, the man who was known to
all his students as Dain, surveyed me as I entered the room. The eagle-like
eyes stared into me, through me, as if he could just by looking, discern all
my strengths and weaknesses. Beneath the gaze of those eyes, I had to
strongly remind myself that I was no longer a child of 15, seeking shelter
and knoledge, but a trained man of the way of the battlefield. The eyes
seemed to demand me to kneal and beg for forgiveness for things that I had
done without the man's permission, but my pride and will forbade such an act
of servitude. Thus, I managed to approach the man with my dignity intact,
and favoured him with a slight bow such as the type one soldier would grant
another of his standing. The pacing ceased, and I addressed my former
teacher.
"Ye seem well, Dain," I said, looking him in the eyes- a task that would've
been impossible during my period of training under his teaching.
"And thou fair no less," the man replied as he took in my attire with one
downward sweep of his gaze. Looking up, he continued, a hint of coolness
creeping into his voice, "Pharel Stormblade, founder of Blackwind, slayer of
many and seeker of blades, to what do we owe thy unforeseen audience?"
Taken aback, I dropped my gaze. "Dain? Tis my thought that ye would not
treat the return of one of thy own so..."
"Think not thou as one of my own!" he shouted, his face livid with rage.
"Some of mine become soldiers and guards who defend and serve, some try to
pass on the way of goodness and the art of arms, but none of my be child of
Lies and slave of Chaos! Ye of fames, blood and faithless, shall not muddy
my name with thy own!" Spittle flew from his lips as he raved on about my
faults and wrongdoings.
Since a friendly reunion was clearly out of reach, I cut directly to the
point. "I am here with regard to the affair of the orcling."
At this, the man shook his fists at me. It was amazing to watch just how
angry a person could get at the expense of another- especially when this
other person had not done more than walk into his old school at an early
hour and addressed the former in a respectable, though not servile, fashion.
"Speak not of the affair of this institute, ye corrupted! The orc is a
creature of foulness and should've been slain if not for its childhood. Are
ye now in league with the orcs? Ah, never had I thought ye, even ye, would
sink so low as to aassociate with orcs!" Saying that, he pointed an accusing
finger at me, "Leave now, ye servant of darkness and lies, leave before I
send for the guards and acolytes!"
As a plague of human nature, a disease as dark as fear, rising out of a
man's heart as a serpent may rise out of a swamp to prey, his unfounded rage
had crept into my heart and laid its seeds without me knowing- for I had no
design over the event which occurred next, nor would I be able to stop it
had I known. The words of magic came to me, as naturally as songs to the
lips of a minstrel. My muscles bulged with magical strength beneath my
armor, my nerves sharpened and seemed to pick up signals from miles away as
my dexterity doubled and redoubled. A force shield slammed into place around
me as the air liquified and took on the form of my shadow by my side. A
quick prayer to the Goddess of Chaos brought her blessing down upon me, and
I felt powerful and righteous as a white aura surrounded my person. My
hands, those killer's hands, seemed to had gained a will of their own, for I
had not yet thought of drawing my blade before the long elven weapon was
unsheathed and thrumming within my grasp. My shield was similarly readied,
without conscious order from my heart.
"And darkness I will show ye!" I roared, or rather, the warrior in me
roared, and charged the man who taught me my skills. Leaping into the air, I
brought the elven blade down in a cleaving arc, intending to strike him down
where he stood. With a well trained and practiced self defense move, he
avoided my attack and we stood three feet apart, gazing at one another.
"Strike me down, and I shall become more powerful and you can ever imagine,"
he said coldly, crossing his arms before him.
"Indeed?" I paused, raising my pawn towards his face, "then we'll see!" As
he lift his hand to block the incoming strike, I reversed my direction and
pushed my pawn toward his now open body, and a large jagged spear of crystal
shot out of my hand and struck him squarely in the chest.
Stumbling backward, Dain clutched at his wounded chest with one hand, and
waved the other in my direction. I was suddenly surrounded by a cloud of
stinking, greenish gas. Choking and gagging, I saw through my tearing eyes
that the trainer had recovered from the shock of my spell and was swinging
his fist toward my jaw. I managed to get my shield up between us, and his
fist rang off the shield with a loud *bwong*. Charging forward, I tried to
bash him with my shield, only to have him avoid the attack with the same
move he pulled earlier. However, he did not expect me to suddenly snap my
blade up from behind my shield, and the elven steel gashed him deeply across
one thigh. Staggering back, he avoided my follow-up slice and cursed under
his breath.
"Everyone get out! Invader in the school! Call for guards!" he shouted as he
dodged out of the way of my lunge.
"Calling for help? You fight like a man!" I hissed, frustrated by the fact
that he had managed to avoid so many of my attacks.
Forcing him back, I brought my blade down hard crosswise in a decapitating
blow as he stumbled back away from me. He would've avoided the strike
completely, if not for the wounded leg; thus, the massacring slice opened a
bleeding wound on his upraised forearm. Although sporting quite a few
wounds, I knew the man was not yet finished, thus did not ease up the
attack.
Panting harshly, the man spit at me, "Dare ye pick on someone thy own
age!"
"Ye started this, now fight instead of wine!" I said and pressed in to
attack.
Dodging under one blow, I brought my blade up in a 'Rising Star' and white
light burst from the tip of my blade as I ***massacred*** the man in a
shower of blood. Switching my grip, I swung a reverse blow which missed him
by an inch as he staggered back hard against the wall. Slightly off balanced
after my last swing, I did not see the man coming in for a counter strike,
and suffered gravely as he threw a right hook into my chin, and a straight
left which rocked me backward away from him. However, I was young, enraged,
and had spent my time battling the strongs rather than in a school teaching
newbies, so the double punch did not do much to me than to flame my rage
even more. With a hiss, I swung my blade down, aiming low with a 'Sweeping
fan' and the ***massacring*** blow brought him to his knees. Weakly, he
threw a jab into my torso, which bounced harmlessly off of my breastplate.
As he struggled to his feet, I lunged forward and sliced out with my sword.
My boots drummed on the floor as I stepped around him, circling him with
seven quick steps, each accompanied by a slice patern.
As I completed the 'Northstar' form, I stood before him, looking at my
handywork. Big and nasty wounds crisscrossed the man's upper body, and blood
was gashing out of all of them. Dain did not fair well against the massacre;
in fact, he seemed to shrink within himself as his blood pooled on the
hardwood floor.
"You are finished," I whispered as I prepared to sheath my blade.
When people speak of 'the second wind,' they often don't really know what
it is really like. Before my blade was back in the sheath, the man, who was
looking beat and defeated just a second ago, came at me with renewed
strength and dealt me a devastating blow that set my head to ring as if a
church-clock was built in my skull. Roaring in frustration, I drew the blade
and leapt at him, intending to see him to his end.
Whatever that brought him back to the fight did not stay long. My first
slice opened a deep cut in his side, and a follow-through slice did the same
to his cheek. He avoided my next two swings by simply falling down onto his
behind, slipped in his own blood. Giving no quarter this time, I stepped in
and thrusted my blade into his shoulder. New blood flowed from his wound as
he took a half-hearted swing at me. I parried his punch with my shield, and
brought my blade down, sending a severed hand flying across the room.
Screaming, the man who was feared by all his students, was now looking
pretty hurt to state the obvious. My bloodlust had been triggered, and
nothing I could've done would stop me at this point, even if I wanted to.
Stepping forward, I sliced down with my blade, openning him up from solar
plexus to navel, disemboweling him. More screaming, as the man held his
stomach, trying hard to keep his guts in his body. Rolling away, he avoid my
deathblow and kicked at me, still holding his guts. Slamming my shield down
to block his boot, I released him from his leg, from the knee down.
The trainer was in an aweful state. Rolling in his own blood, this was not
the same man who I had once respected and feared. But, like some strange
snakes that would not die until they've been cut to pieces, he fought on
with a determination that was frightening. Amazed, I saw him brought his
remaining leg up to kick at me, and stepped back away from the kick.
Side-stepping, I swiped my blade down and his leg joined the other on the
ground, and I lunged forward and drove my blade through his riving body into
the floor.
Impaled and mortally wounded, the man looked up at me with eyes that were
both old and tired. "K'kill me." he whispered brokenly. I obliged him by
severing his head cleaning from his torso with a final ***massacre***.
The school trainer was dead. I stood in the center of the room, not being
able to comprehend the event which had just taken place here. There was
blood everywhere, and my old teacher lied in pieces. What had I done? The
world was spinning all around me as I took in the scene with my unwilling
eyes. Had I really turned into a monster? Was my life a damned journey from
the start? Was I to redeem myself, only to end up committing more sins in
the name of the blade? The only comfort to me was the fact that death is not
forever in this chaotic world of ours, and I new somewhere in the gods'
laboratory, a head trainer is getting his new lease for life. Twas with a
heavy heart I left the school by the back gate, and faded into the
surrounding forest in searching for the kid who had started this whole messy
affair.
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