Jay-Jay
07-06-2004, 22:54
A long way back I posted a story here with the same title. I doubt if any of you guys remember it. Anyway, I decided to stop posting because I wanted to focus more on my writing rather than continue with the story. So, nearly 2 years on (I think) and I've gone through re-writing it completely, and decided to bravely post it up again. So here's the Prologue and Chapter 1. Enjoy.
Feedback is greatly appreciated. :thumbsup:
Prologue
The small town of Centall sparkled as the sun rose from behind the mountains and glided over the Ensteigian settlement. The townspeople stepped outside into the streets and began to undergo their usual daily routine. Merchants set up their stalls on the market square, soldiers prepared their equipment and raced off towards the barracks, while farmers fed their animals and checked up on their crops. This day would have been considered normal, had it not been for the events the day before. In fact, this day was a day of rejoice, of celebration and, most importantly it seemed, relief. Many considered that day as the end of the world as they knew it, and in some respects they were right. However, once again the human forces were victorious, and on that day, Baal, the Lord of Destruction, was killed, permanently being sent back to the Hells with his brothers Diablo and Mephisto.
The red glow from the far-off spectacle of Mount Arreat was a joyful reminder of Baal’s defeat, and the townsfolk were glad in knowing that they had not been dreaming. Many of the townsfolk cheered as they stepped out of their houses, raising a victorious arm in the air. Many followed suite, as the town began to erupt in shouts of joy and laughter. The mood of the town had not been this good for a very long time.
Deymor climbed the stairs of the town’s watch tower and viewed the red glow from up high. It was a beautiful site as the red lights shined in all directions from the north, reflecting off the mountains that separated Ensteig and the Western Kingdoms from the harsh barbarian Tribe lands. Had Deymor not known what the red light was, he might have appreciated it more. Deymor was in fact one of the few people who knew well and truly that there would be consequences for destroying the Worldstone, the source of the red light. His father had been against the decision since he had heard news of it in. Deymor was not so negative, however, and believed that there was a just reason behind the destruction of the ancient stone, no matter how drastic it seemed. However, these beliefs seemed vein to him. The Worldstone was one of the most important artefacts in Sanctuary. Its destruction did not bode well for Sanctuary.
Deymor stood in silence upon the watchtower and thought about the occurrences the day before. He wondered what the full story was, and his mind formed hundreds of possible reasons and stories that could have taken place. The only news that Centall, and all the other towns and cities of the Western Kingdoms had heard was that Grisnahrk the necromancer had killed Baal, but the Worldstone had been destroyed as a consequence.
His long, brown hair waved in the wind as Deymor continued to stand in silence. His sapphire-blue eyes reflected the continuous red glow from the north as he stared at it, hardly blinking. He brushed his hair aside to reveal a teenage face. He had a determined look upon his handsome features, although his determination was not set upon anything in particular. He was only fifteen years old, and although he was skilled with the sword and shield, he did not want to live the life of a soldier or a mercenary just yet. However, he feared that this was the life he was soon destined for. His father was a lieutenant for the Centall army, and was very anxious to see Deymor succeed as a swordsman, and the army was the logical step for Deymor to achieve this.
Deymor look one last glance at the spectacular red glow and began to descend back down the tower. “May us all live happier lives now,” he said to himself, “even without the Worldstone.” He climbed down the awkward tower ladder and jumped back onto the streets, concerned as to whether his wish was going to last.
Deymor made his way to the market square, searching for potential errands to gain some money in his pocket. He went over the possible jobs that were in store for him today: stacking apples for Mrs. Maxis while she put her feet up and barked orders at him, cleaning the shelves of Gregor’s alchemy while he engaged in riveting conversation with anyone unfortunate enough to enter, or maybe even harvesting crops for his own uncle Fosco while he ‘entertained’ his wife. Deymor sighed to himself and rolled his eyes. Before I do anything, he thought, I need to find Loremew.
Turning away from the market square, Deymor made his way down very busy and crowded streets that lead towards Loremew’s house. Trying to avoid the people passing, he became increasingly frustrated and began pushing his way past the excited townsfolk. Nearly overwhelmed by the sheer force of the frantic people, he shoved in frustration, desperately trying to get past them. Although he boasted quite a large physique, he found it increasingly difficult to get past. He made one last shove at the crowd, and then let the wave of people carry him to whereever he ended up. He was confused, however, when the crowd of people suddenly stopped and turned towards him, a look of anger and surprise on their face. Deymor’s confusion turned to shock and embarrassment, however, when he realised what he had done. A young teenage girl, barely older than Deymor, lay on the floor in front of him.
Deymor immediately offered his hand to the girl. “My apologies,” he said, worried as to what her reaction would be. “I had no idea you were in front of me.”
The girl looked blankly at Deymor for a moment, and then laughed, much to everyone’s surprise. “No need to worry,” she said. “If it were any other day, then maybe I would be angry, but today is a day that has no room for anger!” The crowd cheered and laughed as the girl accepted Deymor’s hand and pulled herself up from the ground. With that, she walked off into the crowd. Deymor used the sudden halt of the crowd to his advantage, and slipped off into a nearby alleyway.
Is everyone in this town so narrow-minded? Deymor thought as he made his way down the various alleyways leading to Loremew’s home. He began to wonder if he and his father were the only ones who actually knew anything about the Worldstone. Without the stone, the astral borders between the mortal plane and Hell had been severely weakened, if not shattered completely.
Shaking his head, he weaved his way down the narrow alleyways and stepped back out onto the streets, finally in Loremew’s neighbourhood. Seeing his long-time friend’s house in the distance, he made his way over to the cosy little cottage, examining the street as he passed. Although he passed the street nearly everyday, Deymor could not help but be amazed by the tranquillity of it. He lived in a very busy part of Centall, and everyday he had to contend with busy crowds and haggling merchants. Loremew never had to put up with such things, and was given luxuries such as a peaceful sleep in the morning or even a relaxing walk whenever he pleased. Deymor was adamant that a person like Loremew would be much better suited to an area of town like Deymor’s.
Deymor knocked on the cottage door and waited patiently for a reply. Knowing his parents were already out of the house and working, he would give it a few minutes until Loremew would answer. As predicted, it took about three minutes until the clumsy steps and tired groans were to be heard from inside the house.
A handsome teenager opened the door as he squinted at the sunlight. He leaned against the doorframe and yawned loudly, signifying to Deymor that it was too early in the morning for him. Deymor rolled his eyes and stood with his arms folded. Admitting defeat, Loremew shook his head and pushed passed Deymor into the open streets, oblivious to the fact that he was only wearing a pair of old trousers. He stretched his arms out and surveyed his surroundings. He was especially interested in the sky, and looked at it from many angles, trying to find the origin of the strange light. “What’s with that red light?” Loremew asked, making his way back to the cottage.
Deymor laughed. “All that ale hasn’t wiped your memory, has it?” Loremew paused in his steps with a look of intrigue on his features. “Or are you so stupid to think that that little, how should we put it…event yesterday wouldn’t have any after-effects?”
“Oh, right, yeah, the Worldstone.” Loremew went back into his cottage and began to change. “Still,” he shouted. “I did drink a lot last night. But didn’t everyone?” Deymor did not bother to answer the question. It was very early in the morning, and like Loremew, he was very tired. He sat down on the steps outside the cottage and waited. Loremew appeared a few minutes later and closed the door behind him. The two set off, making their way back to the central area of town.
Loremew was nearly equally as tall as Deymor, with just a couple of inches separating them. Although his physique was not quite as impressive as Deymor’s, he was still quite strong for a teenager. He had distinctively long, blond hair which was worn in a neat ponytail and was immaculately clean. Young females in Centall saw him as very handsome and charming, but the problem with that, according to Deymor, was that Loremew knew it. His constant flirtatious behaviour with teenage girls sometimes irritated Deymor. What frustrated him more was the fact that Loremew labelled Deymor’s irritation as jealousy and resentment. Still, Deymor tried not to hold it against him.
The two passed the busy streets and were soon in the busiest part of Centall - the market square. Packed with merchants and buyers, the square was always busy, everyday of the week. As Deymor and Loremew negotiated their way past the busy streets, they constantly came in the way of frantic buyers or desperate merchants. While Deymor tried to dodge any who he came across in a polite manner, Loremew simply shoved his way through the crowd with a total disregard for any who were unfortunate enough to get in his way. They were not in the market square for long, however. Their errands would take place in the farmlands, just to the east of Centall.
Finally breaking free of the crowd, the two broke into conversation once more as they headed off to the farmlands. “I didn’t,” said Deymor.
“Didn’t what?” Loremew asked, a look of confusion on his face.
“I didn’t drink a lot last night.” Deymor chuckled to himself. “I could still walk at the end of the evening. I’m surprised you even got back home. Come to think of it, I’m surprised you’re walking now.”
“I’m only up at this hour on account of you, remember?” Loremew shook his head. “Besides, why are we still talking about this? Let’s talk about something else, like the whole relief over Baal’s death, perhaps?”
Deymor looked uneasy. “Indeed, Baal’s death is a relief. But good things come at a price, Loremew. I mean, the whole Worldstone was destroyed because of this. Do you have any idea what that means for Sanctuary?”
Loremew sighed. “I know that the Worldstone was important, but it wasn’t Baal who destroyed it, you know.”
“True, but it was because of Baal that it was destroyed.” Deymor shook his head. “None of these people understand what the consequences will be.”
“Oh really? So what will the consequences be Deymor? If you have so much knowledge over this then I’m sure you can prophesise the doom of Sanctuary, right down to the very last purge.”
Deymor did not respond, much to the annoyance of Loremew. The truth was that Deymor did not know an answer. All he knew was what he had read, as well as what his father had told him. All he knew was what the Worldstone did. He knew nothing of what would happen if the Worldstone was destroyed. Loremew had caught Deymor out.
Loremew smiled sympathetically, much to Deymor’s surprise. “I can understand how worried you are. I mean, I’d be if I had a father like yours.” Deymor scowled at Loremew. “Ok, that was out of line. But the point is, we’re fifteen years old. Why should we be getting worried about this now? The day the sky rains fire and demons start ripping towns to shreds, then yes, I’ll be slightly worried. But for now, I want to enjoy life, now that we’re free.”
Deymor smiled. Loremew was right. He had been so caught up in consequences that he had forgotten that the biggest threat that ever faced this world was gone, and that the people of Sanctuary were free, for the time being. He decided to enjoy his freedom while it lasted. “It’s a rare occasion that you’re right Loremew, but this time you are right. Sorry if I got ahead of myself.”
“No worries. So anyway, where are we going again?”
“Uncle Fosco’s farm,” Deymor said unenthusiastically. “Don’t ask what he’s got planned for us. Not that it matters, anyway. Any job we’ll do for him will be back-breaking labour.”
Loremew sighed deeply. “You should be damn grateful I’m doing this with you, y’know. I could just leave, any time I want.” Deymor laughed. “Don’t mock me,” Loremew growled. “I don’t even like your uncle. He’s a complete bastard to me.”
“That’s because you’re a complete bastard to him!” Deymor exclaimed. “Look. The only reason I’m working for Fosco today is that he pays well. I am his nephew, after all. If you drop the remarks and just get on with the work, however difficult that is for you, then we’ll get paid well.”
The two approached the farmlands soon after their conversation ceased. Finding Fosco’s farm was always difficult. No matter how many times they had been there, the various crop fields and animal pens confused them to no end. After finally finding it, Deymor knocked on the old farmhouse door. The door swung open nearly immediately afterwards, revealing a huge figure.
“Wow, Mr. Lorenzo,” Loremew said. “You’re looking particularly huge today. Been doing some exercise?”
Fosco growled at Loremew, his face showing many signs of disapproval towards him. “Is that an insult or a compliment, boy?” he said in a deep voice.
“Depends which way you look at it really,” Loremew sighed. “I mean, I have to say your arms are massive, as always. But then again, looking at your stomach area…”
“Uncle Fosco… sir,” Deymor said with a slight tremble in his voice. “Loremew’s just joking with you. You look fine, very much in shape.”
Fosco shook his head and stepped outside into the mix of red and yellow light. “What do you want here? If it’s errands you’re after then you’re very much welcome, ‘cause I got a bundle for you”
Deymor smiled, trying to hide his disappointment. “Good, because that’s what we are indeed after. What do you have for us today?”
“Well, there is one main problem that’s been on my shoulders for a while now. Those damn wolves have been killing my cows, would you believe? Anyway, the fence I have at the moment is obviously not doing the trick. I need a higher one to protect my cattle, but I don’t have enough wood.” Deymor knew where this was going. “I need you two to pedal it over to that wooded area over there and find me some wood. Quality stuff, nothing less. I don’t care how you get it; chop it, find it, steal it from another farmer, whatever. Just get me a fair amount of the stuff and you will be rewarded. Clear?”
“Couldn’t be more so, Mr Fosco,” Loremew said, a slight grin on his face.
Shaking his head, Fosco made his way to his shed. He got out two axes and two swords. He handed one of each to both of them, much to the surprise of both Deymor and Loremew.
“Well, I understand what the axes are for,” Deymor said. “But last time I checked swords were not chopping tools.”
“The Lord of so-called destruction may be dead, but these are still dangerous times. With swords you two can protect yourselves, especially you Deymor. Your father says good things, y’know.”
There was a long pause. Loremew began to shake his head. “Look, I’m ok with chopping wood, but I’m not going out there to risk my life for some… cows, for crying-out-loud.”
“Look, if you don’t wanna do the job then fine, there are plenty of other errand boys around looking for gold. If you’re that against it then over there is the gate out of here.”
“Sorry, Fosco, but Loremew’s just a little edgy,” Deymor said frantically. “We’ll do the job for you, and we’ll do it well. Come on Loremew.” Loremew followed uneasily, annoyed at Deymor’s insistence to do the errand.
Centall wood was one of the biggest in the region. Its fine wood was actually quite famous throughout Entsteig, and it attracted quite a few farmers from far away towns and villages. It was quite a tranquil area, and as well as attracting farmers, it also attracted moving settlers who preferred living in a freer environment than the busy town of Centall.
The two friends started their work as soon as they got to the wood. Loremew began searching the ground for any wood that was suitable. Any he found he placed in the wheelbarrow that Deymor had been given. Deymor, on the other hand, began chopping a small tree, cutting off thick chunks of wood that he saw as ‘fence quality’. After about an hours work, they had already amassed a fair amount of wood. As the day came closer to the afternoon, they had nearly collected enough. Loremew prepared to bring his final bundle of wood to the wheelbarrow when he heard a strange noise. He dropped the wood and looked around the surrounding area, doubly alert.
“What is it?” Deymor asked, making one last chop of the tree he was working on. The strange noise sounded again, only this time louder.
“That noise,” Loremew said nervously. “Like nothing I’ve heard before.”
“It’s probably nothing. In fact, I bet it’s just a farmer trying to pry us away from these trees. You know they’ll go to any lengths to…” Deymor stopped suddenly as he saw a figure in the distance. At first the figure looked human, but as the figure came closer Deymor could see that it was quite far from human. Although it was about the same height as Deymor, its features were not like any he had seen before. Its eyes were very red, betraying the evilness of the figure. Two rounded horns spiralled out of the figure’s head like a goat’s. As Deymor examined the figure closer, he realised that many of the figure’s features were similar, if not the same as a goats; hoofs as feet, a nose shaped the same as a goat’s, white, although blood-stained fur growing in some parts of the monster’s body. Deymor realised exactly what he and Loremew were dealing with – a goat man; a twisted demon created by the will of Mephisto. He had read about these demons before – mutilated forms of human beings, punished for swaying in the direction of evil. Deymor knew for sure that goat men were very hostile creatures. Negotiation with this creature was already out of the question.
Loremew went into a state of panic. Both his sword and his axe were by the wheelbarrow, which was relatively far away. He tried to make a run to the wheelbarrow, but he had not realised that the goat man was directly behind him now. The demon tripped him up with his weapon – a huge poleaxe. Loremew groaned slightly but got back up. The goat man swung his poleaxe at Loremew this time, a swing with Loremew just narrowly avoided. The hideous creature had cut off his route to the wheelbarrow, and he began to panic more. Without a weapon he was totally defenceless.
Deymor stood about thirty metres away from Loremew and the goat man as he contemplated what to do. Swallowing his fears he grabbed his sword and ran towards the goat man as quietly as he could. The demon had swung his weapon at Loremew once more, this time grazing him on his left arm. Loremew drew his arm back, thankful that the cut was not as deep as it could have been. Ducking another swing by the goat man, he began to wonder whether his time was up already. However, those thoughts were quickly gone as he noticed Deymor running towards the goat man, ready to plunge his sword into the demon’s back.
Hearing Deymor’s steps, the goat man tried to turn around and counter Deymor’s blow. But he was not quick enough. Deymor had sunk his sword into the demon’s side. The goat man yelled in pain as Deymor pulled the sword out of his side and plunged it into his abdomen. This time the goat man did not yell, but instead dropped his poleaxe and fell to the floor. As he lay there motionless, Deymor stabbed the goat man were he thought was his heart, making sure that the hideous demon was well and truly dead.
Loremew, who had watched the whole thing, sat down and rested against the tree. For some reason, he began to laugh. “I bet you wished you’d stayed in Centall now, eh?”
Deymor kneeled down beside the dead goat man, examining the corpse with excitement, as if it were a trophy. “Loremew,” he began. “If I said to you that I was going to join the army, would you join with me.”
Loremew laughed again, only this time harder. “You’re serious? You want to join the army?” Deymor nodded as an ambitious smile began to creep over his face. Loremew shrugged. “Well, I said not so long ago that if we were gonna do major things we’d do them together. If you join, I’ll join too.”
Deymor stood up with a proud look on his face. His doubts of becoming a soldier were now gone. “Good,” he said. “I’ve always wanted to know what it feels like to be a soldier of Entsteig.”
Chapter 1 – Seven Years On
Using the key that he had found on the dead shaman, Deymor opened the old chest hidden in one of the tents. The chest had obviously not been opened in a while, and it took some effort to lift the lid from it. After prying the chest open, a large amount of dust escaped into the tent which caused Deymor to choke a little. After the dust finally settled, he pulled out the contents of the old box. He found a few bags of gold coins, which he pocketed immediately. However, what intrigued him most was a sheathed sword lying at the bottom. He picked the sword up gently and unsheathed the blade to examine it closer.
“Loremew, come and have a look at this, quick,” Deymor said with excitement. “I think I’ve just found the most amazing weapon I’ve ever seen.”
A few seconds later Loremew entered the tent and stood next to Deymor, holding his bow in his left hand. His torso area was stained in blood. The blood, however, was not his own, but of a fallen warrior who was unfortunate enough to cross him. There was a fairly deep cut in the back of his thigh, caused by the fallen, and his own blood was slowly trickling down from it. He began to strap his bow onto his back, not taking his eyes from the sword while doing so. “You going to keep it?” he asked.
“I don’t like looting from the dead,” Deymor started. “However, this is too good to let slip. Besides, it was in the hands of evil. It won’t be seen as bad to take it for myself, don’t you think?”
Loremew nodded his head in agreement. “True. The only thing I’m wondering about though is why it was here.” Loremew began to wonder around the large tent. “In the camp of about a dozen fallen warriors and a shaman.”
Deymor threw his current sword into the chest along with its sheath and attached the sheath of the sword he had found to his belt. The sword was indeed a sight to behold. It shined beautifully, even in the dark tent. There were many inscriptions upon the blade, inscriptions that Deymor could not understand. The hilt of the sword had obviously been carefully crafted, and it felt very comfortable when Deymor held it. He took a few swings with it and admired the sweet noise it made. With one last proud smile he sheathed the sword and made his way outside the tent, signalling for Loremew to follow. He stepped outside and began to address the other three soldiers under his command.
“Gather up any objects that you see as valuable or important. If any of you have any wounds, make sure that you get them wrapped up before we leave. Be quick, however. I want us back in Centall before nightfall.” Deymor surveyed the dead fallen bodies around him with an impressed look on his face. “Good job, men. Lieutenant Laymond will be pleased.” Deymor walked passed the soldiers and laid his shield on the ground. Sitting down next to it he wiped the mixture of blood and sweat from his face and armour. Loremew sat next to him and patted him on the soldier.
“So how does it feel?” he asked.
“How does what feel?” Deymor responded.
“You know exactly what I mean. It’s your first day as sergeant and so far it’s been pretty damn good. So, how does it feel?”
“Strange, yet exciting,” said Deymor. He broke into a gentle laugh and sighed. “Twenty-two years old and I’m already a sergeant. It doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t sound right, either.”
“It’ll sink in with time, I’m sure,” Loremew said. “You probably deserve it. I mean, I’m sure the fact that your father is a ranked officer in this town’s army had no influence over the decision. In fact, I’m certain that your influence over the other soldiers and your great skills were what Laymond considered, eh?” Deymor scowled at Loremew, giving him the dirtiest look Loremew had ever seen. He was quick to change his statement. “I’m joking, Deymor. Congratulations, I’m happy for you.”
Deymor produced a slight smile as he stared ahead of him. The last few days certainly had been emotional for him. After being offered the job as a sergeant in Centall’s armed forces just three days before, he had been much undecided as to whether or not he should take the responsibility. The prospects were very exciting, even for one as down-to-earth as Deymor. However, he was still young, and he felt that he had still had much to learn. However, after enormous pressure from his father, he decided to accept. His father had convinced him that accepting a position such as this would in itself be learning.
“Everything is gathered and there are no serious wounds amongst the men, sir. We await your command to leave.” A soldier a few years older than Deymor stood to attention and stared ahead without emotion.
“Then we will leave at once,” He picked his shield up and swung it round on his back. Loremew sprung up to his feet and made his way towards the exit path of the wood clearing. As Loremew walked Deymor noticed the cut at the back of his thigh. “Loremew,” Deymor called as he stood back up. “That cut needs attending to.”
Loremew took a quick glance at his leg and was taken aback by the amount of blood that was oozing out from it. Small trails of blood lead back to where Deymor was standing and Loremew’s left leg became stained with his own blood. Placing his hand over the wound, Loremew kneeled down as a look of worry began to creep over his face. Deymor jogged towards the marksman and produced a towel from his back pocket. “Use this to cover the wound,” Deymor said calmly. “It’ll slow the bleeding if you apply enough pressure.” Loremew nodded and took the towel as the pain of the wound starting to take its toll. He winced slightly as he placed the towel on the cut.
Deymor rushed over to the soldier and shouted a command at a far away soldier to bring over the medical supplies. He turned to the soldier who had informed Deymor that the party was ready to leave. He asked for a water flask which the soldier produced immediately. He made his way back to Loremew and gave him the flask of water, which Loremew began to drink. “Not for you, idiot,” Deymor said. “For the wound.”
“Oh, right.” Loremew began to trickle the water very slowly upon his wound, trying to clean it up as much as possible. A soldier came running up towards Deymor and gave him a roll of bandage. Deymor thanked him and turned towards Loremew, ready to apply the bandage. Loremew finished cleaning the wound and let Deymor wrap the white bandage firmly around the wound, patiently waiting for the cut to be sealed up.
“Finished,” said Deymor, who had failed to break a sweat during the whole ordeal.
“Thanks,” said Loremew, who was helped to his feet by Deymor and another soldier. “It’s appreciated. If you hadn’t have taken noticed I doubt I would’ve.”
“No worries. Taking care of the troops under my command is standard for any sergeant. I was just doing my job.”
Loremew nodded his head in an understanding way. He now realised why Deymor had been chosen as sergeant. He knew what he was doing, and knew exactly how to handle things. He gained the respect of the soldiers under his command, even at his young age. He was head-and-shoulders above other troops in terms of swordsmanship skills and his tactical knowledge was very impressive. Loremew knew Deymor was born for a role such as this, and even though Loremew had always dreamed of climbing the ranks of the army ever since he had joined all those seven years ago, he understood that it was Deymor who was better suited.
Deymor patted Loremew on the shoulder. “Time to go,” he said. “If that wound starts playing up again just tell me and I’ll have it re-bandaged.” Loremew nodded in reply and made his way back to Centall with Deymor and the rest of the troop.
Centall had not changed much at all since the destruction of the Worldstone. The town square was still always packed with merchants and peasants, while the local forest area was still popular for its wood supply. Deymor had since moved from the busy area of Centall to the more tranquil street that Loremew lived in. Life was good for both Deymor and Loremew, and neither of them wanted it to change.
The troop of five, including Deymor, arrived at the army barracks, relieved that their day’s work was over. However, it was still Deymor’s duty to report to Lieutenant Laymond and inform him of what had happened that day.
Deymor knocked on Laymond’s cabin door, a look of confidence on his face. He waited when suddenly the door swung open without warning. A huge man stepped out of the cabin and stared straight at Deymor. His stature was very intimidating, and even though he was just slightly taller than Deymor, his physique was huge, making the impressive physique of Deymor look like that of a child’s. His head was completely bald except for a ponytail of blue hair that sprang out from the back of it. A blue stripe ran across his face, and Deymor could not tell whether or not it was permanent colouring or just face paint. A mixture of grey and black dirt was smudged on various places of his face as he carried the huge burden of his battle-axe. His face looked tired, as the bags under his eyes were plain to see. The man nodded his head slightly and pushed his way past Deymor. With a look of confusion on his face, Deymor shook his head and stepped into Laymond’s cabin, knocking on the door as he entered.
“Ah, Deymor, how are you?” A small middle-aged man was standing at the window of the cabin watching the huge man take his leave. He stroked his thinning hair and shook his head, seemingly in frustration. He took a puff of his pipe and sat down on a large chair over a desk.
“Fine, thank you,” Deymor replied. “Just curious, sir. But who was that man leaving the cabin?”
Danallo Laymond began to lean back on his chair. “You mean the huge, bald guy? Damn barbarian looking for mercenaries. Obviously the hugely intimidating warriors of the north can’t even take care of themselves when heading back up there.”
“I’ve heard about barbarians,” Deymor exclaimed.
“Everyone’s heard of barbarians, kid,” Laymond said as he took another puff of his pipe. “Former protectors of the Worldstone. They didn’t really do a good job of it though. Still, doesn’t really matter now, does it? There hasn’t been much difference at all since the damn thing was destroyed.”
Deymor nodded in agreement. “What’s that barbarian’s name?”
“I respect your curiosity, kid, but now you’re just nosey.” Deymor apologised immediately but Laymond shook his head. “No need to apologise. I don’t hold it against you. If you really have to know, his name’s Verbon. Verbon Willenthur. As I said, he’s from the north, and after his little expedition through the Western Kingdoms he just needs someone to watch his back on his journey home.” Laymond took one last puff of his pipe and placed it in an ashtray oh his desk. “So how did the mission go? Has our little threat been dealt with?”
“Aye, sir,” Deymor said. “There were no casualties amongst the men and the group of fallen along with their shaman were overwhelmed by us.”
“Excellent, excellent. Not bad for a first day as sergeant, eh?”
Deymor s******ed. “It was a team effort, sir.”
“Yes, of course,” Laymond said. He turned to a small book on his desk and began to run his finger down the open page. “Well, there is nothing more for you today, sergeant. I’ll be seeing you here tomorrow morning, same time. Enjoy the rest of the evening. You are dismissed.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant.” Deymor bowed his head slightly and left the cabin.
Taking the heavy burden of his shield from his back, Deymor made his way across the main hall of the barracks that lead to the door outside. He laid his shield by the exit door and stepped outside, yawning in the process. It had been a long day for Deymor, and he needed some sleep. However, despite his exhaustion, he decided to make his way over to the local inn for at least one ale before he would call it a night.
Deymor could not help but be bothered by Laymond’s comments about the Worldstone. In all those seven years since the destruction of the precious artefact, there had indeed been no change. Deymor remembered back to his younger days when he acted as the prophet and predicted the downfall of Sanctuary. His father had told him so much about how Sanctuary was going to suffer because of the Worldstone’s destruction, and how the world would demise because of it. But Deymor had only just realised that during the seven years of life without the Worldstone, there hadn’t been any alarming changes at all. No demonic armies ravaging the lands, no disastrous weather changes that could rip towns to shreds, no unexplained revolts or rebellions. Life was still as it used to be. Deymor was definitely beginning to question the supposed downfall of Sanctuary.
Clutching the hilt of his new sword, Deymor arrived at the Centall Eye Inn. Making his way past the customers, he found his way to the bar and sat down on a free stool. He looked to his right and saw Loremew in the corner of the inn. He was standing upon a table holding one of his katana blades in his right hand. About a dozen or so people crowded around him, all of them having looks of excitement on their faces. Deymor ordered his drink, and then tried to listen to what Loremew was saying. He managed to hear the tail end of what seemed to be an ‘inspiring’ speech.
“… Right, so I’m shooting these fallen warriors with my bow without problem. My shots were pretty accurate and by that point I had killed about five or six. But then suddenly this tiny fallen came up right beside and slashed his scimitar across the back of my leg. I didn’t even see the little thing. So, I stared him in the eyes, dropped my bow, unsheathed this very katana and, with the most elegant swing… I sliced the bastard’s head right off!”
The crowd around him raised their glasses and cheered for Loremew as he sheathed his katana and drank the rest of his drink. Deymor laughed to himself as a pretty blond-haired barmaid placed a pint of ale upon the bar. “All alone tonight, handsome?”
“I’m afraid so,” Deymor said. He took a sip of his drink and turned towards the barmaid. “It’s been a hard day’s work, y’see.”
“That’s still no excuse to be all alone,” the barmaid said seductively. “A handsome man like you all alone? I find that hard to believe.”
Deymor laughed. “Thank you for the compliment. However, when a man is tired, he has every right to be all alone.” Deymor smiled. “Now, although I am aware that the evening is still young, I have little or no intention to stay here past this drink.”
The barmaid nodded her head. “Well you’re certainly a change from others I get in this inn,” she said.
“How do you mean?”
“Well, I could try that stunt I just pulled on you on every male in this room, and nearly all of them would be desperate to spend the night with me.” The barmaid picked up a glass from the bar and began to clean it with a towel. “You, on the other hand, have actually treated me like a human being and tried to have a conversation with me, rather than just drool all over the bar.”
Deymor took another sip of his ale. “If you don’t like it, then why do you work here?”
“That is a good question. But, there is a sad answer. It’s the only job I can do.”
“How do you know unless you try something else? You never know what you’re good at until you try it.”
The barmaid smiled at Deymor gratefully. “I might just give that a try sometime.” The barmaid swung the towel around her shoulder and looked at Deymor’s breastplate. “So… Sergeant Lorenzo, is it?”
“Deymor Lorenzo. And, as you’ve probably guessed, I’m a sergeant in this town’s army.” The barmaid looked impressed as she became more fascinated by Deymor. “So what’s your name?” Deymor said.
“Elaine,” the barmaid said. “But call me El.”
“Alright then, El. How long have you been working here?”
El broke into a weak laughter. “Ever since I was old enough to serve drinks. Six years ago.”
Deymor was taken aback slightly. “Six years? I’m not surprised you’re tired of this job.”
“In some cases, I am. But then I do get to meet interesting people such as you.” El winked at Deymor, who grinned ever so slightly at the gesture. “Maybe we could arrange to meet during the week?” El asked.
“I’d like that,” Deymor said as he took a large sip of his drink. “But then I’m a busy man, now. I have to get adapted to this routine I’m in.”
Just as Deymor finished his sentence a huge figure sat on the stool on Deymor’s left. Deymor turned and recognised him instantly as Verbon, the barbarian who had come out from Laymond’s cabin. He took a glance at Deymor and then called Elaine over. “A pint of your strongest brew, my darling,” he said in a deep voice.
El put her hands on her hips. “We only serve one type of brew in this inn, and it’s classic Entsteig ale!”
Verbon laughed and slammed his palms on the bar. “Then if that’s your strongest brew, then I’d like a pint of it at once!” Elaine raised her eyebrows as she turned to pour him a glass of the Entsteig brew. “We’ll see whether or not it matches a barbarian ale.”
“I heard that barbarians are famous for their ale,” an intrigued Deymor said.
Verbon turned towards Deymor. “Then you heard correctly my friend. With all due respect, you will never find ale as stronger, yet as thirst quenching as a glass of classic barbarian ale. Those druids think they can match it, but I’ve tasted theirs myself, and I was not impressed, to say the least.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Deymor said. “I’m not fanatic about ale. Though it must be said, I do like the taste of it.” Deymor finished his ale and wiped his mouth. He looked to his left and saw Loremew still atop the table as he gulped down what must have been his fourth drink since Deymor had entered the inn. “Right, time for me to leave,” he said as he stood up from his stool.
“You’re not leaving already are you?” Verbon said. “You seem to be a man of sense. Stay another drink and we will talk more.”
Deymor chuckled. “If it suits you, then fine. Though I will drink no more.”
Verbon took a swig of his drink and placed it on the table. He nodded slightly, as if he was impressed. “Fine, fine. I have no desire to get drunk either. Though it’ll take me more than two pints to have me stumbling all over the place.”
Deymor raised his eyebrows and slowly sat back on the stool. He tried to conjure up a conversation, but only one topic was fixed on his mind. “So what are you doing down here in the Western Kingdoms?” he said with real interest. “Not often that we see foreigners here.”
Verbon let out a loud chuckle as he took a large sip of his ale. “So I’m a foreigner am I?” he laughed. “You make me seem unwelcome.”
Deymor shook his head immediately. “No, you have it wrong, you’re welcome here, of course. It’s just Centall isn’t exactly a place for… tourists.”
“Well I’m not a tourist. You are right to be rather suspect about me being down here. I was actually sent down Westmarch to investigate a disappearance. A group of my people had set out to tie up some… loose ends, so to speak, with a group of rogue traders. They had been gone for too long so two others and me came down here to Westmarch to visit these traders, see whether or not they had anything to do with it. Well, turns out that they had everything to do with it. Two damn mages were involved, and they were not in the mood for talking, I’ll tell you that. My two companions unfortunately were slain, but I managed to kill the mages. Now I’m on my way back, simply passing through here.”
Deymor nodded with intrigue. “Why were there loose ends with these traders? What had they done?”
“They hadn’t paid us the gold we were due. They had fled south before we had the chance to beat it out of them. Fortunately for us one had left a map in their cabin, showing where they were based, and where we could find them. Wasn’t long until a party was sent down after them.”
“You’re very open about the whole situation,” Deymor said. “I’d expect you to be rather reserved about an issue such as this.”
“Well you asked about it. It would be rather rude of me not to tell you now, eh?” Verbon took one last sip of his beer and signalled for Elaine to bring him another one. “Anyway, enough about me and my adventures. I want to know about you, Deymor.”
Deymor was about to ask how Verbon got his name, but then he remembered the label on his breastplate. He smiled. “What do you want to know?”
Feedback is greatly appreciated. :thumbsup:
Prologue
The small town of Centall sparkled as the sun rose from behind the mountains and glided over the Ensteigian settlement. The townspeople stepped outside into the streets and began to undergo their usual daily routine. Merchants set up their stalls on the market square, soldiers prepared their equipment and raced off towards the barracks, while farmers fed their animals and checked up on their crops. This day would have been considered normal, had it not been for the events the day before. In fact, this day was a day of rejoice, of celebration and, most importantly it seemed, relief. Many considered that day as the end of the world as they knew it, and in some respects they were right. However, once again the human forces were victorious, and on that day, Baal, the Lord of Destruction, was killed, permanently being sent back to the Hells with his brothers Diablo and Mephisto.
The red glow from the far-off spectacle of Mount Arreat was a joyful reminder of Baal’s defeat, and the townsfolk were glad in knowing that they had not been dreaming. Many of the townsfolk cheered as they stepped out of their houses, raising a victorious arm in the air. Many followed suite, as the town began to erupt in shouts of joy and laughter. The mood of the town had not been this good for a very long time.
Deymor climbed the stairs of the town’s watch tower and viewed the red glow from up high. It was a beautiful site as the red lights shined in all directions from the north, reflecting off the mountains that separated Ensteig and the Western Kingdoms from the harsh barbarian Tribe lands. Had Deymor not known what the red light was, he might have appreciated it more. Deymor was in fact one of the few people who knew well and truly that there would be consequences for destroying the Worldstone, the source of the red light. His father had been against the decision since he had heard news of it in. Deymor was not so negative, however, and believed that there was a just reason behind the destruction of the ancient stone, no matter how drastic it seemed. However, these beliefs seemed vein to him. The Worldstone was one of the most important artefacts in Sanctuary. Its destruction did not bode well for Sanctuary.
Deymor stood in silence upon the watchtower and thought about the occurrences the day before. He wondered what the full story was, and his mind formed hundreds of possible reasons and stories that could have taken place. The only news that Centall, and all the other towns and cities of the Western Kingdoms had heard was that Grisnahrk the necromancer had killed Baal, but the Worldstone had been destroyed as a consequence.
His long, brown hair waved in the wind as Deymor continued to stand in silence. His sapphire-blue eyes reflected the continuous red glow from the north as he stared at it, hardly blinking. He brushed his hair aside to reveal a teenage face. He had a determined look upon his handsome features, although his determination was not set upon anything in particular. He was only fifteen years old, and although he was skilled with the sword and shield, he did not want to live the life of a soldier or a mercenary just yet. However, he feared that this was the life he was soon destined for. His father was a lieutenant for the Centall army, and was very anxious to see Deymor succeed as a swordsman, and the army was the logical step for Deymor to achieve this.
Deymor look one last glance at the spectacular red glow and began to descend back down the tower. “May us all live happier lives now,” he said to himself, “even without the Worldstone.” He climbed down the awkward tower ladder and jumped back onto the streets, concerned as to whether his wish was going to last.
Deymor made his way to the market square, searching for potential errands to gain some money in his pocket. He went over the possible jobs that were in store for him today: stacking apples for Mrs. Maxis while she put her feet up and barked orders at him, cleaning the shelves of Gregor’s alchemy while he engaged in riveting conversation with anyone unfortunate enough to enter, or maybe even harvesting crops for his own uncle Fosco while he ‘entertained’ his wife. Deymor sighed to himself and rolled his eyes. Before I do anything, he thought, I need to find Loremew.
Turning away from the market square, Deymor made his way down very busy and crowded streets that lead towards Loremew’s house. Trying to avoid the people passing, he became increasingly frustrated and began pushing his way past the excited townsfolk. Nearly overwhelmed by the sheer force of the frantic people, he shoved in frustration, desperately trying to get past them. Although he boasted quite a large physique, he found it increasingly difficult to get past. He made one last shove at the crowd, and then let the wave of people carry him to whereever he ended up. He was confused, however, when the crowd of people suddenly stopped and turned towards him, a look of anger and surprise on their face. Deymor’s confusion turned to shock and embarrassment, however, when he realised what he had done. A young teenage girl, barely older than Deymor, lay on the floor in front of him.
Deymor immediately offered his hand to the girl. “My apologies,” he said, worried as to what her reaction would be. “I had no idea you were in front of me.”
The girl looked blankly at Deymor for a moment, and then laughed, much to everyone’s surprise. “No need to worry,” she said. “If it were any other day, then maybe I would be angry, but today is a day that has no room for anger!” The crowd cheered and laughed as the girl accepted Deymor’s hand and pulled herself up from the ground. With that, she walked off into the crowd. Deymor used the sudden halt of the crowd to his advantage, and slipped off into a nearby alleyway.
Is everyone in this town so narrow-minded? Deymor thought as he made his way down the various alleyways leading to Loremew’s home. He began to wonder if he and his father were the only ones who actually knew anything about the Worldstone. Without the stone, the astral borders between the mortal plane and Hell had been severely weakened, if not shattered completely.
Shaking his head, he weaved his way down the narrow alleyways and stepped back out onto the streets, finally in Loremew’s neighbourhood. Seeing his long-time friend’s house in the distance, he made his way over to the cosy little cottage, examining the street as he passed. Although he passed the street nearly everyday, Deymor could not help but be amazed by the tranquillity of it. He lived in a very busy part of Centall, and everyday he had to contend with busy crowds and haggling merchants. Loremew never had to put up with such things, and was given luxuries such as a peaceful sleep in the morning or even a relaxing walk whenever he pleased. Deymor was adamant that a person like Loremew would be much better suited to an area of town like Deymor’s.
Deymor knocked on the cottage door and waited patiently for a reply. Knowing his parents were already out of the house and working, he would give it a few minutes until Loremew would answer. As predicted, it took about three minutes until the clumsy steps and tired groans were to be heard from inside the house.
A handsome teenager opened the door as he squinted at the sunlight. He leaned against the doorframe and yawned loudly, signifying to Deymor that it was too early in the morning for him. Deymor rolled his eyes and stood with his arms folded. Admitting defeat, Loremew shook his head and pushed passed Deymor into the open streets, oblivious to the fact that he was only wearing a pair of old trousers. He stretched his arms out and surveyed his surroundings. He was especially interested in the sky, and looked at it from many angles, trying to find the origin of the strange light. “What’s with that red light?” Loremew asked, making his way back to the cottage.
Deymor laughed. “All that ale hasn’t wiped your memory, has it?” Loremew paused in his steps with a look of intrigue on his features. “Or are you so stupid to think that that little, how should we put it…event yesterday wouldn’t have any after-effects?”
“Oh, right, yeah, the Worldstone.” Loremew went back into his cottage and began to change. “Still,” he shouted. “I did drink a lot last night. But didn’t everyone?” Deymor did not bother to answer the question. It was very early in the morning, and like Loremew, he was very tired. He sat down on the steps outside the cottage and waited. Loremew appeared a few minutes later and closed the door behind him. The two set off, making their way back to the central area of town.
Loremew was nearly equally as tall as Deymor, with just a couple of inches separating them. Although his physique was not quite as impressive as Deymor’s, he was still quite strong for a teenager. He had distinctively long, blond hair which was worn in a neat ponytail and was immaculately clean. Young females in Centall saw him as very handsome and charming, but the problem with that, according to Deymor, was that Loremew knew it. His constant flirtatious behaviour with teenage girls sometimes irritated Deymor. What frustrated him more was the fact that Loremew labelled Deymor’s irritation as jealousy and resentment. Still, Deymor tried not to hold it against him.
The two passed the busy streets and were soon in the busiest part of Centall - the market square. Packed with merchants and buyers, the square was always busy, everyday of the week. As Deymor and Loremew negotiated their way past the busy streets, they constantly came in the way of frantic buyers or desperate merchants. While Deymor tried to dodge any who he came across in a polite manner, Loremew simply shoved his way through the crowd with a total disregard for any who were unfortunate enough to get in his way. They were not in the market square for long, however. Their errands would take place in the farmlands, just to the east of Centall.
Finally breaking free of the crowd, the two broke into conversation once more as they headed off to the farmlands. “I didn’t,” said Deymor.
“Didn’t what?” Loremew asked, a look of confusion on his face.
“I didn’t drink a lot last night.” Deymor chuckled to himself. “I could still walk at the end of the evening. I’m surprised you even got back home. Come to think of it, I’m surprised you’re walking now.”
“I’m only up at this hour on account of you, remember?” Loremew shook his head. “Besides, why are we still talking about this? Let’s talk about something else, like the whole relief over Baal’s death, perhaps?”
Deymor looked uneasy. “Indeed, Baal’s death is a relief. But good things come at a price, Loremew. I mean, the whole Worldstone was destroyed because of this. Do you have any idea what that means for Sanctuary?”
Loremew sighed. “I know that the Worldstone was important, but it wasn’t Baal who destroyed it, you know.”
“True, but it was because of Baal that it was destroyed.” Deymor shook his head. “None of these people understand what the consequences will be.”
“Oh really? So what will the consequences be Deymor? If you have so much knowledge over this then I’m sure you can prophesise the doom of Sanctuary, right down to the very last purge.”
Deymor did not respond, much to the annoyance of Loremew. The truth was that Deymor did not know an answer. All he knew was what he had read, as well as what his father had told him. All he knew was what the Worldstone did. He knew nothing of what would happen if the Worldstone was destroyed. Loremew had caught Deymor out.
Loremew smiled sympathetically, much to Deymor’s surprise. “I can understand how worried you are. I mean, I’d be if I had a father like yours.” Deymor scowled at Loremew. “Ok, that was out of line. But the point is, we’re fifteen years old. Why should we be getting worried about this now? The day the sky rains fire and demons start ripping towns to shreds, then yes, I’ll be slightly worried. But for now, I want to enjoy life, now that we’re free.”
Deymor smiled. Loremew was right. He had been so caught up in consequences that he had forgotten that the biggest threat that ever faced this world was gone, and that the people of Sanctuary were free, for the time being. He decided to enjoy his freedom while it lasted. “It’s a rare occasion that you’re right Loremew, but this time you are right. Sorry if I got ahead of myself.”
“No worries. So anyway, where are we going again?”
“Uncle Fosco’s farm,” Deymor said unenthusiastically. “Don’t ask what he’s got planned for us. Not that it matters, anyway. Any job we’ll do for him will be back-breaking labour.”
Loremew sighed deeply. “You should be damn grateful I’m doing this with you, y’know. I could just leave, any time I want.” Deymor laughed. “Don’t mock me,” Loremew growled. “I don’t even like your uncle. He’s a complete bastard to me.”
“That’s because you’re a complete bastard to him!” Deymor exclaimed. “Look. The only reason I’m working for Fosco today is that he pays well. I am his nephew, after all. If you drop the remarks and just get on with the work, however difficult that is for you, then we’ll get paid well.”
The two approached the farmlands soon after their conversation ceased. Finding Fosco’s farm was always difficult. No matter how many times they had been there, the various crop fields and animal pens confused them to no end. After finally finding it, Deymor knocked on the old farmhouse door. The door swung open nearly immediately afterwards, revealing a huge figure.
“Wow, Mr. Lorenzo,” Loremew said. “You’re looking particularly huge today. Been doing some exercise?”
Fosco growled at Loremew, his face showing many signs of disapproval towards him. “Is that an insult or a compliment, boy?” he said in a deep voice.
“Depends which way you look at it really,” Loremew sighed. “I mean, I have to say your arms are massive, as always. But then again, looking at your stomach area…”
“Uncle Fosco… sir,” Deymor said with a slight tremble in his voice. “Loremew’s just joking with you. You look fine, very much in shape.”
Fosco shook his head and stepped outside into the mix of red and yellow light. “What do you want here? If it’s errands you’re after then you’re very much welcome, ‘cause I got a bundle for you”
Deymor smiled, trying to hide his disappointment. “Good, because that’s what we are indeed after. What do you have for us today?”
“Well, there is one main problem that’s been on my shoulders for a while now. Those damn wolves have been killing my cows, would you believe? Anyway, the fence I have at the moment is obviously not doing the trick. I need a higher one to protect my cattle, but I don’t have enough wood.” Deymor knew where this was going. “I need you two to pedal it over to that wooded area over there and find me some wood. Quality stuff, nothing less. I don’t care how you get it; chop it, find it, steal it from another farmer, whatever. Just get me a fair amount of the stuff and you will be rewarded. Clear?”
“Couldn’t be more so, Mr Fosco,” Loremew said, a slight grin on his face.
Shaking his head, Fosco made his way to his shed. He got out two axes and two swords. He handed one of each to both of them, much to the surprise of both Deymor and Loremew.
“Well, I understand what the axes are for,” Deymor said. “But last time I checked swords were not chopping tools.”
“The Lord of so-called destruction may be dead, but these are still dangerous times. With swords you two can protect yourselves, especially you Deymor. Your father says good things, y’know.”
There was a long pause. Loremew began to shake his head. “Look, I’m ok with chopping wood, but I’m not going out there to risk my life for some… cows, for crying-out-loud.”
“Look, if you don’t wanna do the job then fine, there are plenty of other errand boys around looking for gold. If you’re that against it then over there is the gate out of here.”
“Sorry, Fosco, but Loremew’s just a little edgy,” Deymor said frantically. “We’ll do the job for you, and we’ll do it well. Come on Loremew.” Loremew followed uneasily, annoyed at Deymor’s insistence to do the errand.
Centall wood was one of the biggest in the region. Its fine wood was actually quite famous throughout Entsteig, and it attracted quite a few farmers from far away towns and villages. It was quite a tranquil area, and as well as attracting farmers, it also attracted moving settlers who preferred living in a freer environment than the busy town of Centall.
The two friends started their work as soon as they got to the wood. Loremew began searching the ground for any wood that was suitable. Any he found he placed in the wheelbarrow that Deymor had been given. Deymor, on the other hand, began chopping a small tree, cutting off thick chunks of wood that he saw as ‘fence quality’. After about an hours work, they had already amassed a fair amount of wood. As the day came closer to the afternoon, they had nearly collected enough. Loremew prepared to bring his final bundle of wood to the wheelbarrow when he heard a strange noise. He dropped the wood and looked around the surrounding area, doubly alert.
“What is it?” Deymor asked, making one last chop of the tree he was working on. The strange noise sounded again, only this time louder.
“That noise,” Loremew said nervously. “Like nothing I’ve heard before.”
“It’s probably nothing. In fact, I bet it’s just a farmer trying to pry us away from these trees. You know they’ll go to any lengths to…” Deymor stopped suddenly as he saw a figure in the distance. At first the figure looked human, but as the figure came closer Deymor could see that it was quite far from human. Although it was about the same height as Deymor, its features were not like any he had seen before. Its eyes were very red, betraying the evilness of the figure. Two rounded horns spiralled out of the figure’s head like a goat’s. As Deymor examined the figure closer, he realised that many of the figure’s features were similar, if not the same as a goats; hoofs as feet, a nose shaped the same as a goat’s, white, although blood-stained fur growing in some parts of the monster’s body. Deymor realised exactly what he and Loremew were dealing with – a goat man; a twisted demon created by the will of Mephisto. He had read about these demons before – mutilated forms of human beings, punished for swaying in the direction of evil. Deymor knew for sure that goat men were very hostile creatures. Negotiation with this creature was already out of the question.
Loremew went into a state of panic. Both his sword and his axe were by the wheelbarrow, which was relatively far away. He tried to make a run to the wheelbarrow, but he had not realised that the goat man was directly behind him now. The demon tripped him up with his weapon – a huge poleaxe. Loremew groaned slightly but got back up. The goat man swung his poleaxe at Loremew this time, a swing with Loremew just narrowly avoided. The hideous creature had cut off his route to the wheelbarrow, and he began to panic more. Without a weapon he was totally defenceless.
Deymor stood about thirty metres away from Loremew and the goat man as he contemplated what to do. Swallowing his fears he grabbed his sword and ran towards the goat man as quietly as he could. The demon had swung his weapon at Loremew once more, this time grazing him on his left arm. Loremew drew his arm back, thankful that the cut was not as deep as it could have been. Ducking another swing by the goat man, he began to wonder whether his time was up already. However, those thoughts were quickly gone as he noticed Deymor running towards the goat man, ready to plunge his sword into the demon’s back.
Hearing Deymor’s steps, the goat man tried to turn around and counter Deymor’s blow. But he was not quick enough. Deymor had sunk his sword into the demon’s side. The goat man yelled in pain as Deymor pulled the sword out of his side and plunged it into his abdomen. This time the goat man did not yell, but instead dropped his poleaxe and fell to the floor. As he lay there motionless, Deymor stabbed the goat man were he thought was his heart, making sure that the hideous demon was well and truly dead.
Loremew, who had watched the whole thing, sat down and rested against the tree. For some reason, he began to laugh. “I bet you wished you’d stayed in Centall now, eh?”
Deymor kneeled down beside the dead goat man, examining the corpse with excitement, as if it were a trophy. “Loremew,” he began. “If I said to you that I was going to join the army, would you join with me.”
Loremew laughed again, only this time harder. “You’re serious? You want to join the army?” Deymor nodded as an ambitious smile began to creep over his face. Loremew shrugged. “Well, I said not so long ago that if we were gonna do major things we’d do them together. If you join, I’ll join too.”
Deymor stood up with a proud look on his face. His doubts of becoming a soldier were now gone. “Good,” he said. “I’ve always wanted to know what it feels like to be a soldier of Entsteig.”
Chapter 1 – Seven Years On
Using the key that he had found on the dead shaman, Deymor opened the old chest hidden in one of the tents. The chest had obviously not been opened in a while, and it took some effort to lift the lid from it. After prying the chest open, a large amount of dust escaped into the tent which caused Deymor to choke a little. After the dust finally settled, he pulled out the contents of the old box. He found a few bags of gold coins, which he pocketed immediately. However, what intrigued him most was a sheathed sword lying at the bottom. He picked the sword up gently and unsheathed the blade to examine it closer.
“Loremew, come and have a look at this, quick,” Deymor said with excitement. “I think I’ve just found the most amazing weapon I’ve ever seen.”
A few seconds later Loremew entered the tent and stood next to Deymor, holding his bow in his left hand. His torso area was stained in blood. The blood, however, was not his own, but of a fallen warrior who was unfortunate enough to cross him. There was a fairly deep cut in the back of his thigh, caused by the fallen, and his own blood was slowly trickling down from it. He began to strap his bow onto his back, not taking his eyes from the sword while doing so. “You going to keep it?” he asked.
“I don’t like looting from the dead,” Deymor started. “However, this is too good to let slip. Besides, it was in the hands of evil. It won’t be seen as bad to take it for myself, don’t you think?”
Loremew nodded his head in agreement. “True. The only thing I’m wondering about though is why it was here.” Loremew began to wonder around the large tent. “In the camp of about a dozen fallen warriors and a shaman.”
Deymor threw his current sword into the chest along with its sheath and attached the sheath of the sword he had found to his belt. The sword was indeed a sight to behold. It shined beautifully, even in the dark tent. There were many inscriptions upon the blade, inscriptions that Deymor could not understand. The hilt of the sword had obviously been carefully crafted, and it felt very comfortable when Deymor held it. He took a few swings with it and admired the sweet noise it made. With one last proud smile he sheathed the sword and made his way outside the tent, signalling for Loremew to follow. He stepped outside and began to address the other three soldiers under his command.
“Gather up any objects that you see as valuable or important. If any of you have any wounds, make sure that you get them wrapped up before we leave. Be quick, however. I want us back in Centall before nightfall.” Deymor surveyed the dead fallen bodies around him with an impressed look on his face. “Good job, men. Lieutenant Laymond will be pleased.” Deymor walked passed the soldiers and laid his shield on the ground. Sitting down next to it he wiped the mixture of blood and sweat from his face and armour. Loremew sat next to him and patted him on the soldier.
“So how does it feel?” he asked.
“How does what feel?” Deymor responded.
“You know exactly what I mean. It’s your first day as sergeant and so far it’s been pretty damn good. So, how does it feel?”
“Strange, yet exciting,” said Deymor. He broke into a gentle laugh and sighed. “Twenty-two years old and I’m already a sergeant. It doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t sound right, either.”
“It’ll sink in with time, I’m sure,” Loremew said. “You probably deserve it. I mean, I’m sure the fact that your father is a ranked officer in this town’s army had no influence over the decision. In fact, I’m certain that your influence over the other soldiers and your great skills were what Laymond considered, eh?” Deymor scowled at Loremew, giving him the dirtiest look Loremew had ever seen. He was quick to change his statement. “I’m joking, Deymor. Congratulations, I’m happy for you.”
Deymor produced a slight smile as he stared ahead of him. The last few days certainly had been emotional for him. After being offered the job as a sergeant in Centall’s armed forces just three days before, he had been much undecided as to whether or not he should take the responsibility. The prospects were very exciting, even for one as down-to-earth as Deymor. However, he was still young, and he felt that he had still had much to learn. However, after enormous pressure from his father, he decided to accept. His father had convinced him that accepting a position such as this would in itself be learning.
“Everything is gathered and there are no serious wounds amongst the men, sir. We await your command to leave.” A soldier a few years older than Deymor stood to attention and stared ahead without emotion.
“Then we will leave at once,” He picked his shield up and swung it round on his back. Loremew sprung up to his feet and made his way towards the exit path of the wood clearing. As Loremew walked Deymor noticed the cut at the back of his thigh. “Loremew,” Deymor called as he stood back up. “That cut needs attending to.”
Loremew took a quick glance at his leg and was taken aback by the amount of blood that was oozing out from it. Small trails of blood lead back to where Deymor was standing and Loremew’s left leg became stained with his own blood. Placing his hand over the wound, Loremew kneeled down as a look of worry began to creep over his face. Deymor jogged towards the marksman and produced a towel from his back pocket. “Use this to cover the wound,” Deymor said calmly. “It’ll slow the bleeding if you apply enough pressure.” Loremew nodded and took the towel as the pain of the wound starting to take its toll. He winced slightly as he placed the towel on the cut.
Deymor rushed over to the soldier and shouted a command at a far away soldier to bring over the medical supplies. He turned to the soldier who had informed Deymor that the party was ready to leave. He asked for a water flask which the soldier produced immediately. He made his way back to Loremew and gave him the flask of water, which Loremew began to drink. “Not for you, idiot,” Deymor said. “For the wound.”
“Oh, right.” Loremew began to trickle the water very slowly upon his wound, trying to clean it up as much as possible. A soldier came running up towards Deymor and gave him a roll of bandage. Deymor thanked him and turned towards Loremew, ready to apply the bandage. Loremew finished cleaning the wound and let Deymor wrap the white bandage firmly around the wound, patiently waiting for the cut to be sealed up.
“Finished,” said Deymor, who had failed to break a sweat during the whole ordeal.
“Thanks,” said Loremew, who was helped to his feet by Deymor and another soldier. “It’s appreciated. If you hadn’t have taken noticed I doubt I would’ve.”
“No worries. Taking care of the troops under my command is standard for any sergeant. I was just doing my job.”
Loremew nodded his head in an understanding way. He now realised why Deymor had been chosen as sergeant. He knew what he was doing, and knew exactly how to handle things. He gained the respect of the soldiers under his command, even at his young age. He was head-and-shoulders above other troops in terms of swordsmanship skills and his tactical knowledge was very impressive. Loremew knew Deymor was born for a role such as this, and even though Loremew had always dreamed of climbing the ranks of the army ever since he had joined all those seven years ago, he understood that it was Deymor who was better suited.
Deymor patted Loremew on the shoulder. “Time to go,” he said. “If that wound starts playing up again just tell me and I’ll have it re-bandaged.” Loremew nodded in reply and made his way back to Centall with Deymor and the rest of the troop.
Centall had not changed much at all since the destruction of the Worldstone. The town square was still always packed with merchants and peasants, while the local forest area was still popular for its wood supply. Deymor had since moved from the busy area of Centall to the more tranquil street that Loremew lived in. Life was good for both Deymor and Loremew, and neither of them wanted it to change.
The troop of five, including Deymor, arrived at the army barracks, relieved that their day’s work was over. However, it was still Deymor’s duty to report to Lieutenant Laymond and inform him of what had happened that day.
Deymor knocked on Laymond’s cabin door, a look of confidence on his face. He waited when suddenly the door swung open without warning. A huge man stepped out of the cabin and stared straight at Deymor. His stature was very intimidating, and even though he was just slightly taller than Deymor, his physique was huge, making the impressive physique of Deymor look like that of a child’s. His head was completely bald except for a ponytail of blue hair that sprang out from the back of it. A blue stripe ran across his face, and Deymor could not tell whether or not it was permanent colouring or just face paint. A mixture of grey and black dirt was smudged on various places of his face as he carried the huge burden of his battle-axe. His face looked tired, as the bags under his eyes were plain to see. The man nodded his head slightly and pushed his way past Deymor. With a look of confusion on his face, Deymor shook his head and stepped into Laymond’s cabin, knocking on the door as he entered.
“Ah, Deymor, how are you?” A small middle-aged man was standing at the window of the cabin watching the huge man take his leave. He stroked his thinning hair and shook his head, seemingly in frustration. He took a puff of his pipe and sat down on a large chair over a desk.
“Fine, thank you,” Deymor replied. “Just curious, sir. But who was that man leaving the cabin?”
Danallo Laymond began to lean back on his chair. “You mean the huge, bald guy? Damn barbarian looking for mercenaries. Obviously the hugely intimidating warriors of the north can’t even take care of themselves when heading back up there.”
“I’ve heard about barbarians,” Deymor exclaimed.
“Everyone’s heard of barbarians, kid,” Laymond said as he took another puff of his pipe. “Former protectors of the Worldstone. They didn’t really do a good job of it though. Still, doesn’t really matter now, does it? There hasn’t been much difference at all since the damn thing was destroyed.”
Deymor nodded in agreement. “What’s that barbarian’s name?”
“I respect your curiosity, kid, but now you’re just nosey.” Deymor apologised immediately but Laymond shook his head. “No need to apologise. I don’t hold it against you. If you really have to know, his name’s Verbon. Verbon Willenthur. As I said, he’s from the north, and after his little expedition through the Western Kingdoms he just needs someone to watch his back on his journey home.” Laymond took one last puff of his pipe and placed it in an ashtray oh his desk. “So how did the mission go? Has our little threat been dealt with?”
“Aye, sir,” Deymor said. “There were no casualties amongst the men and the group of fallen along with their shaman were overwhelmed by us.”
“Excellent, excellent. Not bad for a first day as sergeant, eh?”
Deymor s******ed. “It was a team effort, sir.”
“Yes, of course,” Laymond said. He turned to a small book on his desk and began to run his finger down the open page. “Well, there is nothing more for you today, sergeant. I’ll be seeing you here tomorrow morning, same time. Enjoy the rest of the evening. You are dismissed.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant.” Deymor bowed his head slightly and left the cabin.
Taking the heavy burden of his shield from his back, Deymor made his way across the main hall of the barracks that lead to the door outside. He laid his shield by the exit door and stepped outside, yawning in the process. It had been a long day for Deymor, and he needed some sleep. However, despite his exhaustion, he decided to make his way over to the local inn for at least one ale before he would call it a night.
Deymor could not help but be bothered by Laymond’s comments about the Worldstone. In all those seven years since the destruction of the precious artefact, there had indeed been no change. Deymor remembered back to his younger days when he acted as the prophet and predicted the downfall of Sanctuary. His father had told him so much about how Sanctuary was going to suffer because of the Worldstone’s destruction, and how the world would demise because of it. But Deymor had only just realised that during the seven years of life without the Worldstone, there hadn’t been any alarming changes at all. No demonic armies ravaging the lands, no disastrous weather changes that could rip towns to shreds, no unexplained revolts or rebellions. Life was still as it used to be. Deymor was definitely beginning to question the supposed downfall of Sanctuary.
Clutching the hilt of his new sword, Deymor arrived at the Centall Eye Inn. Making his way past the customers, he found his way to the bar and sat down on a free stool. He looked to his right and saw Loremew in the corner of the inn. He was standing upon a table holding one of his katana blades in his right hand. About a dozen or so people crowded around him, all of them having looks of excitement on their faces. Deymor ordered his drink, and then tried to listen to what Loremew was saying. He managed to hear the tail end of what seemed to be an ‘inspiring’ speech.
“… Right, so I’m shooting these fallen warriors with my bow without problem. My shots were pretty accurate and by that point I had killed about five or six. But then suddenly this tiny fallen came up right beside and slashed his scimitar across the back of my leg. I didn’t even see the little thing. So, I stared him in the eyes, dropped my bow, unsheathed this very katana and, with the most elegant swing… I sliced the bastard’s head right off!”
The crowd around him raised their glasses and cheered for Loremew as he sheathed his katana and drank the rest of his drink. Deymor laughed to himself as a pretty blond-haired barmaid placed a pint of ale upon the bar. “All alone tonight, handsome?”
“I’m afraid so,” Deymor said. He took a sip of his drink and turned towards the barmaid. “It’s been a hard day’s work, y’see.”
“That’s still no excuse to be all alone,” the barmaid said seductively. “A handsome man like you all alone? I find that hard to believe.”
Deymor laughed. “Thank you for the compliment. However, when a man is tired, he has every right to be all alone.” Deymor smiled. “Now, although I am aware that the evening is still young, I have little or no intention to stay here past this drink.”
The barmaid nodded her head. “Well you’re certainly a change from others I get in this inn,” she said.
“How do you mean?”
“Well, I could try that stunt I just pulled on you on every male in this room, and nearly all of them would be desperate to spend the night with me.” The barmaid picked up a glass from the bar and began to clean it with a towel. “You, on the other hand, have actually treated me like a human being and tried to have a conversation with me, rather than just drool all over the bar.”
Deymor took another sip of his ale. “If you don’t like it, then why do you work here?”
“That is a good question. But, there is a sad answer. It’s the only job I can do.”
“How do you know unless you try something else? You never know what you’re good at until you try it.”
The barmaid smiled at Deymor gratefully. “I might just give that a try sometime.” The barmaid swung the towel around her shoulder and looked at Deymor’s breastplate. “So… Sergeant Lorenzo, is it?”
“Deymor Lorenzo. And, as you’ve probably guessed, I’m a sergeant in this town’s army.” The barmaid looked impressed as she became more fascinated by Deymor. “So what’s your name?” Deymor said.
“Elaine,” the barmaid said. “But call me El.”
“Alright then, El. How long have you been working here?”
El broke into a weak laughter. “Ever since I was old enough to serve drinks. Six years ago.”
Deymor was taken aback slightly. “Six years? I’m not surprised you’re tired of this job.”
“In some cases, I am. But then I do get to meet interesting people such as you.” El winked at Deymor, who grinned ever so slightly at the gesture. “Maybe we could arrange to meet during the week?” El asked.
“I’d like that,” Deymor said as he took a large sip of his drink. “But then I’m a busy man, now. I have to get adapted to this routine I’m in.”
Just as Deymor finished his sentence a huge figure sat on the stool on Deymor’s left. Deymor turned and recognised him instantly as Verbon, the barbarian who had come out from Laymond’s cabin. He took a glance at Deymor and then called Elaine over. “A pint of your strongest brew, my darling,” he said in a deep voice.
El put her hands on her hips. “We only serve one type of brew in this inn, and it’s classic Entsteig ale!”
Verbon laughed and slammed his palms on the bar. “Then if that’s your strongest brew, then I’d like a pint of it at once!” Elaine raised her eyebrows as she turned to pour him a glass of the Entsteig brew. “We’ll see whether or not it matches a barbarian ale.”
“I heard that barbarians are famous for their ale,” an intrigued Deymor said.
Verbon turned towards Deymor. “Then you heard correctly my friend. With all due respect, you will never find ale as stronger, yet as thirst quenching as a glass of classic barbarian ale. Those druids think they can match it, but I’ve tasted theirs myself, and I was not impressed, to say the least.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Deymor said. “I’m not fanatic about ale. Though it must be said, I do like the taste of it.” Deymor finished his ale and wiped his mouth. He looked to his left and saw Loremew still atop the table as he gulped down what must have been his fourth drink since Deymor had entered the inn. “Right, time for me to leave,” he said as he stood up from his stool.
“You’re not leaving already are you?” Verbon said. “You seem to be a man of sense. Stay another drink and we will talk more.”
Deymor chuckled. “If it suits you, then fine. Though I will drink no more.”
Verbon took a swig of his drink and placed it on the table. He nodded slightly, as if he was impressed. “Fine, fine. I have no desire to get drunk either. Though it’ll take me more than two pints to have me stumbling all over the place.”
Deymor raised his eyebrows and slowly sat back on the stool. He tried to conjure up a conversation, but only one topic was fixed on his mind. “So what are you doing down here in the Western Kingdoms?” he said with real interest. “Not often that we see foreigners here.”
Verbon let out a loud chuckle as he took a large sip of his ale. “So I’m a foreigner am I?” he laughed. “You make me seem unwelcome.”
Deymor shook his head immediately. “No, you have it wrong, you’re welcome here, of course. It’s just Centall isn’t exactly a place for… tourists.”
“Well I’m not a tourist. You are right to be rather suspect about me being down here. I was actually sent down Westmarch to investigate a disappearance. A group of my people had set out to tie up some… loose ends, so to speak, with a group of rogue traders. They had been gone for too long so two others and me came down here to Westmarch to visit these traders, see whether or not they had anything to do with it. Well, turns out that they had everything to do with it. Two damn mages were involved, and they were not in the mood for talking, I’ll tell you that. My two companions unfortunately were slain, but I managed to kill the mages. Now I’m on my way back, simply passing through here.”
Deymor nodded with intrigue. “Why were there loose ends with these traders? What had they done?”
“They hadn’t paid us the gold we were due. They had fled south before we had the chance to beat it out of them. Fortunately for us one had left a map in their cabin, showing where they were based, and where we could find them. Wasn’t long until a party was sent down after them.”
“You’re very open about the whole situation,” Deymor said. “I’d expect you to be rather reserved about an issue such as this.”
“Well you asked about it. It would be rather rude of me not to tell you now, eh?” Verbon took one last sip of his beer and signalled for Elaine to bring him another one. “Anyway, enough about me and my adventures. I want to know about you, Deymor.”
Deymor was about to ask how Verbon got his name, but then he remembered the label on his breastplate. He smiled. “What do you want to know?”