From Dusk to Dawn: The Tale of a Father Thrice-Scorned

[Bastion_of_Hope]

(This story, dear reader, has been created with the accompaniment of particular sets of music from some of my favorite video games to add emotional depth and imagery. Read each group of paragraphs with the assigned hyperlinked song for maximum effect, or feel free to not listen to any – the choice is yours. Know that the music is property of its respective owners, and does is not meant to be portrayed as property of the creator of this post.)

[Scene 1]

“.. we shall name her.. Johanna.”

The newborn baby girl looked more beautiful than Christof had ever seen. His daughter’s eyes and hair thoroughly resembled that of her mother’s – deep sapphire pupils and soft, golden locks. Though Christof had not anticipated fatherhood, fate was indifferent toward his intentions.

The newly-made father cradled his daughter in his arms; watching his thoroughly exhausted wife drift off into a deep, recuperative slumber. Despite the chaos of childbirth, she was nothing less than a breathtaking angel.

How could it be? Christof thought, rocking his daughter slowly back and forth in his chair.

The Gods never thought to influence my destiny beforehand.

His eyes traced back and forth between his wife and daughter, recollecting on the numerous incantations and hymns dedicated to the deities of the world. His mind turned to the past – long-gone days of contractual mercenary work involving the killing of those who didn’t deserve it, all for enough coin to live under a roof with a filled belly.

Despite an endless amount of threats for being one of the “faithless”, Christof never capitulated to the mystic trappings of prayer and religious veneration. His wife often lovingly chastised him to show respect to Lathander and Chauntea at the very least, given her history as the daughter of a wealthy farmer. Although Christof dearly tried to embrace the faith, the images of mutilated merchants unable to pay their debts still haunted his mind – dead by his hand and others.

Where were the Gods then?

It seemed otherworldly that despite the happenings of the past, he could still be blessed with a beautiful wife and daughter. In any regard, he would do his best to protect them from that kind of a life. Such a burden casts unending scars on a person – one he couldn’t bear to see suffered by the ones he loved most.

As the candlelight in the quaint cottage home began to wane, so too did Christof’s consciousness. Soon he would join the rest of his family in the sweet refuse of rest.

[Bastion_of_Hope]

[Scene 2]

The upcoming months proved to be quite the challenge for the nearly thiry-year-old Christof. The youthful energy he once employed during his earlier days was no match for the demand his newborn daughter would thrust upon him; many nights, even weeks would pass where dearest father would gain very little rest, tending to his infant and assisting in his wife’s convalescence.

Though the path of fatherhood was arduous and exhausting, Christof spoke no ill will against his newfound responsibilities. The gift of a normal, healthy family was a godsend to him – if ever such a thing existed. He embraced his new station in life with a sense of pride and achievement.

Many nights would come where the household would run low on food and supplies. If Christof appreciated his past at all, it was for the lessons and tricks his fellow mercenaries taught him on how to survive in the wilderness. Delegating time to leaving his home and hunting local wild animals proved invaluable in sustaining the household’s resources over longer periods; in a troubled time when caravans rumored of increased threats by bandits, rabid animals, and other horrifying monstrosities skulking the trade routes of Cormyr, Christof wanted to take the highest precaution in securing his family.

Soon came another day when hunting and forging was again necessary. Although Christof felt worried about leaving his wife and child alone, he often comforted himself in the fact that they were very much secluded within the confines of a forest – hidden from plain sight, and away from prying eyes. Armed with a light crossbow, longsword, and several tools for creating traps, he left as he had done many times before.

This day seemed no different. Rabbits, elk, and the various fauna populated the forest, and provided plenty of meat to tend to Christof and his family’s needs. Proceeding deeper into the forest with his crossbow at the ready, the young father glimpsed at his family’s next meal – wild hare. A resounding shot from his weapon landed hard, instantly killing the small creature.

With his weapon reloaded and at the ready for another catch, Christof slowly approached the dead hare as to not frighten any additional animals nearby. Before he could claim what was rightfully his, something strange happened…

[Bastion_of_Hope]

[Scene 3]

It came staggering out of the treeline, headed instantly towards the slain hare… groaning… hungry. Christof readied his weapon, anticipating a hostile humanoid beast. What he saw terrified him, chilling him to the very core and sinew of his person. Christof quickly took to hiding behind a nearby tree stump, watching in complete horror as one of the very tradesman he had done business with weeks ago stumbled into plain sight – paler then death itself, with his stomach completely carved open, entrails hanging out. There was no consciousness behind those eyes. Only endless hunger.

The tradesman instantly dropped to his knees, devouring the hare with a sickening, ravenous appetite akin to the most foulest of beasts. Were these the monstrosities assaulting the trade caravans?!

Terrified, Christof slowly tried moving away from the stump to get away from the site. One frightened misstep caused a tree branch to snap underfoot, sending a chill down his spine. Christof looked behind him, to see if the shell of a man had been alerted.

It was staring directly at him.

Sounds of additional groaning came from beyond the treeline – there were more. They were coming.

There was no time to think, no time to gauge the threat. Dusk was quickly approaching. As Christof turned to run, a bloodcurdling female scream pierced the air.

"CHRISTOF!!"

The young father instantly snapped into full sprint back towards his home. The smell of a fire quickly filled his nostrils.

[Bastion_of_Hope]

[Scene 4]

Before Christof could even make it home, he knew. The plume of smoke rising in the air came directly from the direction of his own home. With an unsheathed longsword, he sprinted to his cottage only to find his worst fears to be true. The monsters had come to his home.

The ardent young father burst in through his front door, and became simultaneously demoralized, enraged, and fully charged with adrenalin at what transpired in his absence. Two shambling corpses, much like the tradesman he had found, had attacked. His wife and daughter were dead, devoured like the hare in the forest.

Christof became the living embodiment of rage and vengeance. His house had become an inferno around him, but his will to care was completely gone. The young father charged in, and struck the undead monstrosities with every ounce of strength he could muster. Tears of hate mixed with smoke clouded his vision, but nothing would get in his way. Unwilling to accept the truth of what happened, Christof hurriedly hoisted the corpses of his wife and daughter out of the burning home – it collapsing behind him. Everything was gone.

As he laid the corpses of his family on the ground near his home, Christof spotted the undead tradesman he had seen earlier – it and others had followed him home.

There was nothing left to live for. He charged into the decomposing group and fought, ready to die. But he emerged unscathed, shaking violently, poisoned by his overwhelming emotions.

There was nothing left for him. Christof gathered the corpses of both his wife and infant daughter, and walked to a scenic cliff overlooking the Dragonmere lake his family often enjoyed many days ago. They would never enjoy the view again.

Neither would Christof.

[Bastion_of_Hope]

[Scene 5, final]

The battle was over, but the tragedy had just begun. Christof spent hours digging graves for his own wife and child at the overlook with his bare hands, fueled by despair and resentment for the monstrosities that stole everything dear to him. Taking the symbol of Lathander around his wife’s neck, the young man bid farewell to his family, and allowed them to be embraced by the Earth – never to return.

Christof could not hold back any longer. He thrust his sword into the ground as a monument to his family, and broke down harder than he had ever done so before.

Amidst his anguish, Christof began to feel a warmth creep up his body. He opened his eyes, completely tear-soaked, and began to watch a new dawn rising. The smoke and pollutants in the air from his torched home had filled the sky, and contributed to the most beautiful looking sunrise the young man had ever set his eyes on. Barely able to stand, Christof took to his own two feet and watched the luminous, orange-red sphere ascend majestically into the sky.

Is this… Lathander?

He looked down to the gem-encrusted religious symbol, stained with his tears, and felt the numbness within him slowly fading away. The guilt, resentment, and sorrow were still there. But.. he could feel again.

Christof donned the amulet and embraced the warmth of the coming sun. He vowed to avenge his family before leaving his home forever behind.

Those who interacted with the young father claim that he had left for good. Nobody is quite sure where he went; some speculate he traveled north to a place known as Sundren, where he met his wife originally. Others say he couldn’t bear his sadness and jumped to his death, to join his family. One thing is for certain.

His wife and child did not die in vain. His sword still stands testimony to the love of those whom he held so dear.





~ Fin