Post by Deleted on Jan 30, 2019 14:28:18 GMT -6
As a boy, Damir Highblood worked as a squire to Sir Ausric in the hopes of one day becoming knighted. After one particularly long day at Varo’thens Holdfast, Damir began the long journey back to his small village of Balfour.
As he began the ascent to the top of the hill that separated him and the village, he began to see smoke in the air. He charged up the remaining climb, egged on by the faint sound of screams and war drums in the distance and as he reached the crest he saw the village that had been his home being overran by a horde of men.
He sprinted down the hill and barely escaped a fall into a pond trying to reach the home he had grown up in. He charged into the village passing his friends and neighbors who were fighting a losing battle with only the faces of his dear parents in his mind. Pounding down the street passing body after body his only hope was to see his parents again which would come true but not in the way he wanted.
Praying to Lasko that they would be OK, he rounded a corner and saw his parents lying on the ground with a hideous bandit standing over his mother’s body. In a rage Damir grabbed a battle axe from the body of a village guard, ran up behind the bandit, and slashed at the bandit striking a mighty blow. As the man fell to his side, Damir knelt over his mother, tears falling slowly from his face knowing he would never again be with his parents in this life. After some time he got up and examined the bleeding bandit.
Adorning his chest was crude platemail with the head of a one horned dragon drawn onto it with charcoal. In his hand was a large mace that Damir had no real interest in, he turned his attention to the sack on the ground. Spilling out of it were swords and armour of the men than the man had killed. Damir went through the armour looking for something that would fit with no luck.
Looking at the bodies of his parents he knew he must give their bodies back to the earth. He grabbed a shovel from the back porch of a house, a couple small blankets to transport their bodies, and made his way to the top of the hill. The holes he dug were not very deep but it exhausted him. From some nearby rocks he built small graves for his parents and said a few words his church had taught him for such occasion. Once Damir had made peace with the fact his parents were with Lasko now, he slowly made his way to his old home, tired and weak, praying for guidance.
Once home, Damir lit a candle over the ritual plate watching as the wax slowly fell and reflected on his younger days in the church. As a devout follower of Lasko, he frequently visited the church rarely missing a day. He gave offerings of food and coin, held ritual burnings, and spread the word of Lasko to those who met who haven’t yet seen the light. “I was a stupid child” he thought watching as the first of the droplets of wax fall. He reached into his shirt pulling out the holy amulet he had earned when he became a full member of the church only two years ago. The amulet was only about the size of a gold piece but it was worth more to him than his life. On the front was the tiny depiction of a gauntlet with an ankh pained in the palm, the holy symbol of Lasko. He flipped the amulet over and looked upon the foreign words inscribed there.
“Rakshak, Maraham Lagaane Vaala, Badala Lene Vaala”
He had asked the priest about the words and he responded that he did not know what the words meant. Legend said that Lasko’s chosen warriors would one day look at the amulet and see the words and know their meaning. Damir shook his head and placed the medallion on the table face up.
Damir looked at the candle and saw the flame had gone out. “How strange” he thought as there was not even a slight draft in the room. As he reached for the flint he noticed the wax on the plate had taken the shape of a dragon with only one horn. He was astonished! It was the symbol on the bandit’s chest! On the right side of the ox was the crude shape of a battle axe and on the left side a drop of wax about the size of a gold piece. He looked closely at the circular drop and noticed an indentation in the center that almost looked like an ankh. Damir quickly backed up and grabbed his amulet spinning it so he could read the words.
“Protector, Healer, Avenger”
Damir grabbed his pack and quickly filled it with anything he thought would be useful on his journey ahead. He snatched a cloak off the wall and left the house for what he believed would be the last time. He only had one goal now, uphold the values of Lasko and bring justice onto the bandits that had ravaged his village.
As he began the ascent to the top of the hill that separated him and the village, he began to see smoke in the air. He charged up the remaining climb, egged on by the faint sound of screams and war drums in the distance and as he reached the crest he saw the village that had been his home being overran by a horde of men.
He sprinted down the hill and barely escaped a fall into a pond trying to reach the home he had grown up in. He charged into the village passing his friends and neighbors who were fighting a losing battle with only the faces of his dear parents in his mind. Pounding down the street passing body after body his only hope was to see his parents again which would come true but not in the way he wanted.
Praying to Lasko that they would be OK, he rounded a corner and saw his parents lying on the ground with a hideous bandit standing over his mother’s body. In a rage Damir grabbed a battle axe from the body of a village guard, ran up behind the bandit, and slashed at the bandit striking a mighty blow. As the man fell to his side, Damir knelt over his mother, tears falling slowly from his face knowing he would never again be with his parents in this life. After some time he got up and examined the bleeding bandit.
Adorning his chest was crude platemail with the head of a one horned dragon drawn onto it with charcoal. In his hand was a large mace that Damir had no real interest in, he turned his attention to the sack on the ground. Spilling out of it were swords and armour of the men than the man had killed. Damir went through the armour looking for something that would fit with no luck.
Looking at the bodies of his parents he knew he must give their bodies back to the earth. He grabbed a shovel from the back porch of a house, a couple small blankets to transport their bodies, and made his way to the top of the hill. The holes he dug were not very deep but it exhausted him. From some nearby rocks he built small graves for his parents and said a few words his church had taught him for such occasion. Once Damir had made peace with the fact his parents were with Lasko now, he slowly made his way to his old home, tired and weak, praying for guidance.
Once home, Damir lit a candle over the ritual plate watching as the wax slowly fell and reflected on his younger days in the church. As a devout follower of Lasko, he frequently visited the church rarely missing a day. He gave offerings of food and coin, held ritual burnings, and spread the word of Lasko to those who met who haven’t yet seen the light. “I was a stupid child” he thought watching as the first of the droplets of wax fall. He reached into his shirt pulling out the holy amulet he had earned when he became a full member of the church only two years ago. The amulet was only about the size of a gold piece but it was worth more to him than his life. On the front was the tiny depiction of a gauntlet with an ankh pained in the palm, the holy symbol of Lasko. He flipped the amulet over and looked upon the foreign words inscribed there.
“Rakshak, Maraham Lagaane Vaala, Badala Lene Vaala”
He had asked the priest about the words and he responded that he did not know what the words meant. Legend said that Lasko’s chosen warriors would one day look at the amulet and see the words and know their meaning. Damir shook his head and placed the medallion on the table face up.
Damir looked at the candle and saw the flame had gone out. “How strange” he thought as there was not even a slight draft in the room. As he reached for the flint he noticed the wax on the plate had taken the shape of a dragon with only one horn. He was astonished! It was the symbol on the bandit’s chest! On the right side of the ox was the crude shape of a battle axe and on the left side a drop of wax about the size of a gold piece. He looked closely at the circular drop and noticed an indentation in the center that almost looked like an ankh. Damir quickly backed up and grabbed his amulet spinning it so he could read the words.
“Protector, Healer, Avenger”
Damir grabbed his pack and quickly filled it with anything he thought would be useful on his journey ahead. He snatched a cloak off the wall and left the house for what he believed would be the last time. He only had one goal now, uphold the values of Lasko and bring justice onto the bandits that had ravaged his village.