The fall of the Hero’s
Fable
Chapter 1: The Final Ambition
The last majestic purple
rays of sunlight vanished over the ocean as darkness rushed across the town.
The guards shifted uneasily as the approaching raiders delivered a loud war
cry, Fierce with anger and desperation. This was one of many battles raging
around them. And as Devan knew, this would be the deciding factor of Oakvale.
He gripped his sword as the distance between them narrowed. This is it
he thought as the first covered face came into view. Drawing his sword he
yelled as loud as he could. Then followed by everyone else’s screams, it began.
At first all he could
see was blood, for his reactions were completely instinct. Every swing and
every parry was not controlled by him, but as if Avo grasped his sword and
helped guide his attacks, everything was a blur, sounds, actions, and his
thoughts. But after the initial bloodshed it was clear, clear that he was already
wounded, clear that the rain that splattered his face was actually his own
blood, clear that they might lose this battle if he gave up now, and clear that
everything he held dear rested in the fate of this battle. Overcoming his pain
he slew every man in his path. His sword never felt so light as he swung it
with supreme ease. The battle seemed to be in there favor but he could never
tell for sure, because every bandit he killed was always replaced with a
slightly stronger man with a larger sword. However he soon realized that the
men he fought were not getting any stronger at all, he was getting weaker. And
after 10 minutes he had to pull back from his bloodlust slaughtering. After
that every movement he made was planned and based upon his training as a guard.
His friends and
neighbors started to fall back, there taste of victory was over and soon
everyone was filled with there own wounds, some of his friends were already on
the ground. He hoped for the best though. Maybe they are just unconscious he
thought optimistically as he sliced the arm of his opponent. Then the order to
retreat back to the center of town was yelled at him. Devan looked to the north
as he ran, hoping that reinforcements from Bowerstone would soon arrive,
however from the fire and smoke nothing was visible except carnage. But then,
Devans eyes were drawn to a small helpless girl, It was the daughter of the
woodsman Brom. He gasped as a bandit forcefully grabbed her and threw her onto
the ground drawing his dagger and yelling at her. He charged at the bandit, and
before he could react and stabbed him in the back, the bandit yelp but could
achieve no more than a strange twitch before dying. He knelt next to the girl;
she was crying profusely and wouldn’t move.
"Come on! You must
come with me!" He yelled, but just as she stopped crying and faster than
Devan could react he was ambushed. From all sides bandits surrounded him, He
swung his sword wildly at a bandit, who was skinny and wearing a strange mask, but
this man was skilled in swordsmanship and easily parried his blow, quickly
countering with an overpowering strike to the head with the guard of his sword.
Devan fell to the ground, despite his will to save Brom’s daughter he fell unconscious.
In his mind he knew that they had already lost.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
He wondered what had
just happened when the vision returned to his eyes. His mind was spinning and
he was bleeding terribly from numerous wounds. He first realized that it was
dark,
As he slowly reached the
center of town he realized how many of the townsfolk lay dead. Many of his best
friends were now laying in a pool of there own blood. It struck him harder than
any wound he could have received when he saw 2 children dead, the one boy, Ted,
always looked up to Devan, it had been two years since he saved the boy from a
very harsh bully. Ever since then the boy always followed him and would
cheerfully tell him about his day, He always like that kid. If he didn’t have a
goal, he would have broke down right there, but there was a chance that Brom’s
daughter may still yet live. And since there was no other point for him to be
there, he decided it best to find her, no matter the cost.
On his way out of town
he noticed something, a small figure was moving across the bridge above him. Broms
Daughter! He though as he quickly made his way over the burning crates and
up the hill that lead to the bridge. The bridge started to crumble as he made
his way across. It nearly broke underneath him but he quickly jumped out of it
onto firm land. After catching his breath he saw the figure in the distance
silhouetted against the fiery background, and then another figure rushing at
him. Fear filled his heart as he started at a sprint towards the figures. Anxiety
overcame him as he realized he would never make it. Just as the bandit figure
raised his sword above his head to strike, a deafening blast echoed from behind
him, the sound of crackling thunder and the blinding shock of lighting fill the
air. It did not originate from the sky however, but from yet another figure
that emanated power. Devan could only watch as he fell to his kneels in
exhaustion. As he looked up, he could see that the small figure was not Brom’s
daughter but instead it was a boy,
He couldn’t tell who specifically from his distance though. But
after a few moments the both of them vanished in a flash of blue light. Devan
gasped, he had never seen magic before and knew nothing of its abilities. And as
he rose to his feet, looking around at his ruined home, he wondered what he
would do with himself now. After thinking he finally decided his fate. He would
search for Broms daughter. He hadn’t seen her body, which meant hope still
existed for her. As he walked out of Oakvale, he managed to dig a grave for
Ted. Then he set out on his journey, with nothing but his sword and his
ambition.
Chapter 2: Stranger Beyond
Devan walked in a haze as darkness pass into dawn. The shadows
emerged from there slumber and grew long against the ground. Many guards from
the nearby traders post were running towards Oakvale, A little too late
boys. Devan thought as he walked on.
About an hour later as
Devan was walking he heard a lot of commotion going on down the road, quick to
react he drew his sword and ran towards the sound. Surprise filled his face as
the small traders
Feeling the rush of
adrenalin he slammed the first bandit onto the ground and quickly jammed his
sword into the bandit’s chest. Caught by surprise, the other bandits hesitated
as they saw there fallen comrade on the ground. A strange smirk filled Devans
face as he chopped off the nearest bandits head. They rushed towards Devan, the
tallest one swung his sword hard and fast, Devan easily parried the blow and
delivered a devastating cut to the throat. Bloodlust filled him as he cut down
several more bandits with ease. Before long the remaining bandits retreated
towards the forest but not before Devan could tackle the slowest one onto the
ground.
“Where’s Teresa!” he
shouted at the man. He kept silent with a smile on his face. “I am warning you!
Speak or I will kill you!” But the bandit only said “Kill me then, It wont save
that girl” And with and angry sneer Devan slit his throat. Wiping his
bloodstained sword as he stood up and began to wonder where they would take
her, and why? They left nobody else in the village alive, and what about the
boy and that strange man? This makes no sense. He pondered for a bit, but
then attempted to help out the wounded traders. His sword was dented, his armor
was ruined, he was already suffering from many wounds, and yet his journey had
not even begun.
Hours passed as dawn
rose into
“Yes?” said Devan, a
bit agitated. The man handed him a piece of cloth and left, a blood red scarf
following behind him. Devan raised and eyebrow at the man, then he looked down
at the piece of cloth. It was just a plain piece of cloth. What’s this for? He thought as he flipped it over. “You’ve got
blood all over your face, wipe it off.” Devan started at the voice behind him
and grab for his sword, until he realized that it was the same guy. “How did
you get behind me so fast?”
The man’s eyes glowed as he must have been smiling; it was hard to
see because most of his face was bound. “It’s a skill we hero’s learn, I am
Vrell.” He offered his hand. Devan wiped his face quickly then said “I am
Devan, an Oakvale guard. Well, I was…” He looked down. Vrell smiled “There is
still much in life, Oakvale will be rebuilt and all will be well, don’t you
worry. May I ask where you are going?” This mans optimism made Devan mad. “What
makes it any of your business, just where are you heading?” Just as optimistic the
man said “Well I was going to Oakvale but do to a recent chain of events, I am afraid
I have nowhere to go.”
The breeze in the wind
made all the trees dance and brought the sound of nature amongst the small
traders post. The sun glistened in the sky, bringing warmth that could improve anyone’s
mood. Even Devans mood was improving as he told Vrell about the events that had
occurred and about trying to find Teresa.
“Well if you ask me. Id
say she’s probably dead right now. But hah, what do I know?” Devan glared at
him for a second, he wouldn’t accept that in till he had proof. “Well I have
delayed long enough, she might be alive, and in till I am proven otherwise ill
search for her, Her father is probabl-“ Vrell cut him off “Her father was in
Oakvale? He is dead, She might have escaped, but that was only one little girl.”
Devan shook his head “No she didn’t escape, she was kidnapped. And Brom can’t die;
he is strong and very smart. It’s impossible.” Even as he said those words he
knew he was wrong. He could feel it.
“How about if I help
you search for Teresa, It is wrong to condemn a life to possible slavery or
death when there is a chance that life may still live.” Devan thought about it.
He wasn’t sure if he trusted this man. He had appeared out of nowhere, so what
if he was a hero, so was Twinblade. He had never heard of Vrell before, he wasn’t
famous. But he did have a very majestic aura about him.
Chapter 3: Darkwood’s Secrets
It took Devan quite a while before he finally relaxed around
Vrell. Hard as it was, he seemed very loyal and at last his optimism was
starting to make Devan happy. Vrell was as tall as Devan and was built the same
way. But he was much more experienced and from what Devan could tell he was
much older than him. His cloths betrayed his personality, it was mostly black
leather with bright chainmail visible from some sides, but what caught the eye
was a blood red scarf that was wrapped around Vrell’s neck and hung behind his
back like a cape. The scarf was torn at the edges and if the light hit it right
it looked almost as if a demon was jutting out of Vrell’s back.
“Vrell, where did you
get that scarf?” Devan asked after a few hours of searching through the nearby
woods. He hesitated at first and didn’t answer for several minutes but finally
said. “It was my sons, he was killed by a very evil man, I don’t know his name
but he wore the strangest mask I have ever seen.” Could it be? He
thought about the man who knocked him unconscious during the battle at Oakvale.
“Im sorry, it’s a very unique scarf if I may.” Vrell smirked “You don’t even
know.” Devan look quizzically at him for a moment then went back to searching.
Darkness slowly
approached, bringing the stars twinkling in the sky to view, bringing the
sunset that painted the sky with a beautiful, warm reminder of the lovely day
that the sun brought. After searching for several more hours Devan finally
suggestion they should get some rest. “Where are you from Vrell?” Devan said as
they journeyed towards Barrowfields but before he could answer there was a
deafening blast nearby. “Run…Now!” Said Vrell as he unsheathed his golden
katana, it was too dark to see but Devan could tell that several figures were
rushing at him, and at speeds he had never seen before. “No! I can fight.” He
too readied his sword as the figures closed in. Bringing his sword above his head,
he prepared to kill the figure in one slice. It was a mere 7 feet away and he
know he would win this battle, but the figure bound at him faster than he could
react, It knocked his sword out of his hand and a sharp pain and a great
feeling of weightlessness took hold of him as he was vaulted into the air. Then
in an instant a bright light filled his eyes as a great ball of fire was
rushing at him.
NO!!! He felt a sudden burst of power, something he had never felt
before. He stopped himself in mid-air, and threw himself out of the way. He
fell fast and smashed against the ground very hard, knocking all of his breath
and sight out of his body. He tasted warm blood when he gasped for air and
blinked for eyesight, and for a moment he couldn’t tell what was happening. He
had just used magic, he was sure of it, But how? He got to his feet
quickly and was greeted with a sword in the face; horror filled him as the
figure’s sword was flung at his head. He wished he could feel the same power
that had took him merely moments ago, but it did not appear. “DUCK FOOL!” Said
Vrell as he flew the air cutting down the figure just as the sword connected
with Devans shoulder. He screamed as he fell to the ground clutching a horrible
gash on his bicep. “This is no time to lay around get up now! There are still
more!” Vrell help him up and dashed towards the nearby road.
Devans view was very cloudy and he could not tell what was
happening, but several times he was dropped and Vrell would fight someone
momentarily and then pick him back up and dash off again. An hour later he was
fully aware and capable, his arm was still horrible wounded but he could fight
with his other hand, if he had a sword. Now that he could run at his full speed
they covered much ground a lot faster and soon found there selves in the deep
dead forests of Darkwood. Devan groaned “This isn’t good; I’ve been in Darkwood
before, this is a terrible place.”
“Really? I didn’t know… Don’t worry lets just keep moving we can
handle any Darkwood baddies we run into.” Vrell was completely calm and
collect, not a shot of fear in his eyes. Yet, this did not console Devan. “I
won’t take another step without a sword.” Vrell quickly tossed him a rusty sword,
Devan fumbled with it for a moment and nodded.
“Do you have any Idea where we are or where we need to go?” Said
Devan nervously as they roamed passed a overturned wagon filled with blood and
corpses. “No, but it is good that we are lost, because a bandit camp isn’t
easily found if your searching for it.” Devan rolled his eyes, that logic
wasn’t what he wanted to hear at the moment.
Several hours passed and they came upon a giant stone door. It was
imprinted with runes of the ancient empire, covered in vines, and glowing in
the
Vrell could feel power
surging through him as he fought off the attackers. Devan had vanished completely
and he was surrounded by dozens of strange undead minions. They were faster
than normal undead and seemed to have a free will, in a way. As the first
undead reach him he had gathered all of his will power and allowed it to surge
from his body in a wave of pure fiery death, Every undead fell to the ground as
they burst into flames, roasting the minuscule plant life in the area.
Several larger undead were out of range and closed in on Vrell,
but he was much stronger and completely eviscerated them.
“Well well, if it isn’t
the sonless hero from long ago” Vrell spun around to be faced with the man who
killed his son… It was Jack of blades. “You son of a bitch! I will kill you!” He
unleashed the rest of his will energy on a massive bolt of lighting that stuck
Jack in the chest. He stumbled and got up slowly. “Is that the best you can do?
I’m very disappointed in you Vrell, how would your soon feel if he knew how
weak you are?” Rage filled Vrell as he prepared to rush at him.
“Soon I will be the most powerful being to ever exist and I will
make sure you will suffer just like your son.” Vrell lost control and leaped at
him, his attacks were faster and more powerful than ever before, it seemed like
time slowed as he threw attack after attack only to be parried or dodge by jack.
His energy quickly drained as he desperately tried to get through Jacks
hardened defenses. He swung a weak blow that jack parried and sent Vrell to the
ground, placing the tip of his sword on Vrell’s neck he said. “Maybe you would
like it in my lovely prison ay? Yes… That would be best, in there you could rot
and be tortured every day like you deserve.” Vrell looked angrily into jacks
masked in which there were no eyes, just darkness.
“Drop it. Or you die”
Vrell look past jack. It was Devan.
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