Faerdin
Rune Knight
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Discussion Thread
Determination burned so familiarly in the eyes of the golden-haired boy, Faerdin knew there would be much difficulty in convincing him. The acrid fumes billowed about them, watering countless eyes and urging father and son alike to follow the armed men and women that marched past. War drums poisoned the air with a prelude for the battle to come, and as Faerdin's heart began to beat in time with the music, he knew that time was not to be wasted. "I thought I had told you not to follow me, Velen."
"You can't stop me, father. I won't let you, not after what they did to our home!"
"Velen, please," Never before had Faerdin pleaded with his own son, but times were desperate. "Return to Ashenvale. Or better yet, return to Battleon with your mother. Your mother needs you and you aren't nearly ready for this. You need to stay safe!"
The boy named Velen looked as though he had been struck. "I can't believe you... you're still holding me back, even when Lore is collapsing!"
"That isn't true! I'd never-"
"Then let me fight. You saw what they did to Ashenvale, father, you saw what they did to our home!" Velen crossed his arms, the crystalline clinking of his chainmail a mere whisper beneath the bellows of the drums. Rage spilled from Faerdin's heart and seared his innards like molten metal. Unsheathing his sword, Faerdin ran his blade through the earth at Velen's feet and startled him so deeply that he stepped back.
"You are not to follow me further... You have no idea what you're getting into! This is Drakonnan we are facing. He manipulates, he murders. He has no sympathy. He killed your uncle, he killed your sister... I am not going to let him kill you, too!"
Velen opened his mouth to speak, but he failed to utter a single word. An eternity of silence passed as Faerdin awaited Velen's response, occasionally interrupted by the roar of a dragon or explosion, always followed by the death throes of yet another lost warrior. Blood searing his veins, Faerdin whirled around to join the carnage. A low voice halted him. "Fine. I see how it is. But let me tell you something. You will sincerely regret having told me to leave. You will regret it until the day you die."
Without another word, Velen turned and walked along the worn dirt road. A small voice in Faerdin's heart whispered, begging for him to call him back, but nothing could change his mind. He would not allow his son to be so foolish. He would not allow him to fight in a battle that could potentially steal his life, not when he was so young. With a sigh, Faerdin began to readjust the heavy plates of steel that protected him. As he placed his helm upon his head, Faerdin thought to himself, It is for the best...
"Captain! Captain!" Faerdin turned to see a leather-clad sentry sprinting up along the path, fighting the current of knights, mages, and common adventurers to reach him. "Sir, the battle is not going as we had planned... Drakonnan must have disturbed a colony of Plasma Dragons-"
Faerdin's knees nearly buckled at the weight of the sentry's revelation. "Plasma Dragons? But... that can't be. They couldn't-"
"The stories are true. I can assure you, Plasma Dragons do exist... and they are decimating us." When Faerdin read the frigid fear and despair in the man's eyes, he swallowed and seemed to steel himself. Now was the time to make his move for the Eastern Hills.
"Thank you. Today will not end in defeat. I swear it." Faerdin immediately stepped past the sentry, weaving his way through the sea of marching warriors until he found a beautiful, tawny stallion. Armor plated its more sensitive areas, and the spirit of the warrior ignited within its auburn eyes at the sight of him. After patting its silky, ebon mane, Faerdin climbed onto its back and mounted the warhorse. Raising his sword high, he coaxed his steed through the warriors surrounding him and shouted, "To victory, my friends! Drakonnan may burn our homes, but he will never quench the fires in our hearts! To me!"
Emboldened by Faerdin's display, the men and women within the crowd began to march with greater confidence, their synchronized footfalls echoing across the countryside like the drums that had pounded only minutes before. They moved faster and faster, gaining momentum until the battlefield was finally in sight. The crowd erupted into cheers and began to charge their way toward the inferno, caring not for their own lives, but for the future of their children, their families, and their homes.
What Faerdin saw chilled him to his very core.
Flames crackled in the palms of Drakonnan's spindly footsoldiers, devouring all in their path when hurled in the direction of even Lore's finest warriors. Strange insects of all kinds littered the landscape, ranging from giant spiders with white-hot pincers that sparked upon meeting a sword or shield to strange, mantis-like creatures that soared the sky, swooping down to snatch a quick meal. Faerdin's heart froze as he noted the bodies that already littered the landscape. Fire and blood painted the emerald hillside crimson, filling even the most seasoned of warriors with a sense of impending doom. These aren't soldiers... they're forces of nature. Tasting bile, Faerdin attempted to gather himself for the first wave.
A savage roar tore through the dark clouds above Faerdin and his battalion, forcing many of the combatants to cover their ears. With a beat of massive wings, the smog cleared to reveal a neon blue dragon. Wicked scales shimmered at the thunder and lightning that flashed and crashed about it, blinding everyone present and lending their battlefield a surreal appearance. The most horrible part of the drake, however, was its eyes; indecipherable orbs that seemed to house a void of anger and bloodlust.
Those depthless pools sought prey, but found only Faerdin. It began to descend.
"To me!" Faerdin shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts while the azure drake beat its wings, drawing closer and closer.
The soldiers drew inward, raising their shields as Faerdin did the same. Finally, the dragon soared through the air to strike at the very heart of the battalion, easily knocking many warriors off their feet. While they attempted to recover, a group of archers began to nock their arrows. Several others unsheathed small knives meant specifically for throwing, and the few mages they were given began to channel their mana. Pointing the tip of his sword at the dragon, Faerdin cried, "Fire!"
Projectiles of all kinds- arrows, spells, knives- whistled through the air and, though many of them missed, forced the dragon to shriek from its pain. Turning around, it sliced through the air and descended with the intent to kill gleaming all the more fiercely in its pitch-black eyes. Faerdin's heart nearly stopped as he realized what the dragon was about to do.
"It's landing! Everyone, clear away!"
Once more, the dragon aimed directly for the center of their group. Its claws struck the ground the way a hammer would a gong, causing the very earth to shudder beneath its weight. Faerdin paled at the sound of blood-curdling howls, realizing that several of his warriors must have been trampled by the beast. With an ominous crackle, the dragon reared its head and opened its maw to shower its opposition with a dazzling flurry of electricity. Many of those who had been struck fell to rise no more. Someone has to stop this, Faerdin thought.
Leaping down from his horse, Faerdin dashed toward the middle of their group. Noticing his movements, the dragon shook the ground as it turned to face him. It almost seemed to be scowling, displeased by his presence to such a degree that it deafened him with yet another roar. Grimacing, Faerdin lifted his sword and shouted, "Encircle it! Now!"
Slowly but surely, their ranks began to recover. As the battalion wove and knit themselves around the dragon, it growled and lashed out at individual warriors with its ivory talons. Pikes and spears sent orange sparks flying, each strike grating sharply across the drake's scales. Faerdin himself had retrieved a spear and jabbed at the dragon every moment he had the opportunity, steadily buying time for the mages as they drew from their deepest reserves of power. The azure light of their aura clashed wondrously with the fire that seemed determined to engulf all of Lore.
Wiping the sweat from his brow, Faerdin called out, "Steady... hold him back!"
Fear glinted coldly in the eyes of the infernal beast, clearly knowing what was to come. It laboriously flapped its wings to no avail, the thin membranes that made up its wings having been pierced by the warriors' spears. However, Faerdin saw the flash of light erupt from the hands of the mages, and he knew it was over. A colossal jet of water smote the dragon's heart, tearing from it a shrill and anguished howl. There was silence even from Drakonnan's warriors across the battlefield as the mighty dragon shook the earth a final time.
For the first time in days, Faerdin smiled. Drakonnan's forces were not invincible. "Let this be a message to your maggot-riddled fiends, Drakonnan! We will not be overcome by a few shrimps with pyromania! Charge!"
A heartfelt cry erupted not only from the forces Faerdin commanded, but from warriors across the entire battlefield. Drakonnan's minions seemed to shirk from the revitalized warriors, devastated by the spells of their mages and nearly coming apart at the seams. Leaping back onto his steed, Faerdin grinned and raised his blade to the sky. "By the Lords, we shall have victory!"
But as Faerdin drew closer to the bulk of Drakonnan's minions, a strange feeling came over him. The very air seemed to glisten and shimmer, and the smoke around Faerdin seemed to become more and more dense. Coaxing his warhorse to halt, his eyes widened as the smoke nearly blinded his sight. The very last thing he saw was man in crimson robes and a crackling wave of flames. Then, all was darkness.
***
Pain shot through Faerdin's skull as he awoke, almost delirious. The ground was unlike that of the battlefield he had just been on... it was soft, cool, and welcoming. Opening his eyes, he realized that he had been laying upon grass. He hungrily scrutinized his surroundings, desperate to know where he was and how he had gotten there. As his eyes wandered the lonely, beautiful hills, it struck him.
"The Eastern Hills... but what...?"
Faerdin rose to his knees and ran his fingers through the emerald blades around him. The ground was completely dry; an oddity after a battle in which so much blood had been spilled. It was then that he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. Faerdin whirled around only to find a single rose. It seemed to be the only flower for miles, glittering happily with the dew of a new dawn. Curiosity took over Faerdin and coaxed him to move closer to the flower, bringing a reluctant smile to his lips as he reached forward.
Fire. Fire was everywhere. Someone, something in armor as black as night cackled like a maniac-
Blinking, Faerdin backpedaled and crawled away from the rose, gasping for breath. A vision had just come over him; it was so powerful, so real, he would have lost his balance if he had been standing. But nothing really seemed to be wrong; the field was as tranquil as it had been a few moments before, and the rose continued to sway merrily with the wind.
"Dad?"
Jolting, Faerdin turned to see his son standing above him. Overwhelmingly powerful emotions seemed to clog Faerdin's chest as he gazed up at Velen. There were so many things he wanted to say at once. In an instant he was hugging Velen to his chest, tears dripping softly down his face. "Velen... Velen, I'm so, so sorry I had to tell you to leave, I never wanted to push you away..."
"But dad, I'm fighting."
"W-what?" Faerdin pulled out of the hug and grabbed Velen's shoulders. "I want you to be safe, Vel-"
He was gone. As quickly as he had appeared, Velen simply vanished from Faerdin's arms. All of his strength seemed to flee as he fell to his knees, losing even the will to cry. What is going on? Where am I?
"No, father, please! You can't do this!" A boy shouted as he parried a jab with the man in black, desperation in his eyes-
The visions suffocated Faerdin once again. He clutched at his head, grunting and attempting to stand. "What is going on?!"
"Father!"
Faerdin glanced up to see Velen once again, now brought to his knees before a man in long, flowing robes of deepest red. A cruel mask hid his face from view, but never could it wash away the smile that surely lay beneath it. Drakonnan raised his hand with all the authority of the Fates themselves, and Velen was instantly enveloped in a pillar of flames. Sickeningly joyful laughter echoed throughout the clearing.
"No! Not my son! Please, anything but-!"
"You are weak," Drakonnan growled as he snapped his fingers, causing the pillar of flames to fade and reveal that Velen was completely gone. "You cannot protect your family or your friends, Faerdin... they are mine to control. They are mine to use, and they are mine to slaughter should I so wish it. You are powerless, and you cannot do anything..."
"No..."
Drakonnan's haughty laughter began to grow louder and louder, the earth nearly trembling-
"NO!"
Unsheathing his sword, Faerdin ran forward with all of his might, intending to run his blade completely through the arrogant pyromancer. A wave of fire instantly blasted him off his feet, and as he was thrown backward, his surroundings and even Drakonnan himself began to melt away. Crimson bled across Faerdin's vision as the back of his head struck a hard, wooden floor. Wearily attempting to stand, a hand coaxed him to remain where he was sitting. Glancing up, Faerdin saw a man with a thick, scraggly beard. A tan apron was wrapped around his chest, and the hammer of a blacksmith was clutched tightly in his hand.
"Please," said Yulgar. "You may want to stay where you are until the battle is ov-"
"Where am I," murmured Faerdin. "And who are you?"
"My name's Yulgar. We're in the town of Battleon... it looks like someone was controlling you, because you didn't seem so friendly a moment before."
"B-Battleon? I told my son to come here! My wife and my son are here!" An icy chill wormed its way up his spine as he continued, "Have you seen a young boy around here? Around my height, yellow hair-?"
With a frown, Yulgar rose to his full height and walked out of the building. He could hardly believe what was going on. Clambering onto his feet, Faerdin clumsily ran after him. "Please, you have to help me!"
It was then that a silvery gleam near the door of the house caught Faerdin's eye. He glanced down only to be stopped dead in his tracks. Resting before him was a man with golden hair, clad in chainmail armor and clutching his sword in death the way he had in life. Like those of the blue dragon, once vibrant and alive, his eyes saw everything and nothing. They would eternally remain widened in a look of spine-chilling fear.
"No... No..."
Faerdin lifted his sword to his eyes, noting the blood that glistened along its length like cursed rubies. Blackened plates of armor covered his entire body, clutching to him as though they were embodiments of the unforgivable sin he had just commited. Shivers wracking his entire body, Faerdin howled to the heavens. He cried out to the Lords who had turned so viciously against him, but more importantly, he cried out for the hollow place where his shattered heart once lay.
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