Duskthorne's rise

[me_less]

Elijah tossed and turned. He was dead asleep but the fluttering of his eyes suggested that his mind was not. In his mind's eye, he is a young lad of so many years ago. He is bruised and beaten on the ground with larger boys standing over him. They were off a beaten path often used to gather water for the village.

"You whelp. You're too chicken to even defend yourself. Come'on! Hit me!" cried one of the older boys. This was a scene all too familiar for it happened far too often.

"N-n-no. P..Pl... Please leave me alone. I didn't do anything to you. I never have."

The larger boy snickers. "That's why I do. Because you're pathetic. You're a sniveling little runt" An evil grin escapes his mouth. The others laughed. They began to jeer. One of them threw a stick to Elijah's feet. "Here. Use this. Come on. Just swing." The others began to laugh some more.

Elijah fearfully looked at the tree branch that lay next to him. His nose was bloodied and arms scraped from the multiple times he was thrown into the thorn bushes. He trembled. He grew up in a kind and loving home whose parents eschewed violence. He was a studious and frail boy. He knew nothing of fighting and the sight of blood sickened him. He could not understand why the others harassed and beat him day after day. He gave them whatever they wanted: His lunches, his new shoes, his allowance.. whatever caught their eye when they found him. Every day for the past two years has been a nightmare. He hid his bruises. He explained away those he could not. If he was a snitch, he feared ever more reprisal. He often could not sleep for what the next day would bring.

The others continued to jeer and taunted. "Come'on pick it up! Fight! Fight! Fight!" Elijah looked fearfully at the thick branch. He didn't want to take it... he couldn't. What would mom say? But he began to fear for his life. He trembled as he reached for it. The others encouraged louder as they saw him reach and so did the larger boy.

He trembled even more with tears streaming down his eyes as he stood with stick in hand. His eyes blurred by tears and fear. The older boy smiled a wicked smile and walked up to him non-chalantly. Without a word, he began to pummel Elijah with his fists. The frail boy easily crumpled. More punches fell and kicks began to hit his side before he finally stopped. The others laughed and jeered even more. Elijah was in pain. "Why are they doing this to me?"

Finally, everything went blank. His eyes flashed open. His mouth no longer trembled. His countenance changed. This was no longer Elijah. "You're too weak Elijah. Let me handle this." In the thorn bush where he was thrown, he spotted a metal bar within arms length. He grabbed it without minding the thorns that dug deep into his arm. And he stood.

The older boy had his back turned to him. The others laughing too hard to pay him notice. "Your back to me? Hmmph. A mistake" With a swift blow, the metal rod hit the older boy in the head. He crumpled like a deck of cards. The rod kept on coming down on him with unemotional ease. The others were aghast and shocked at the sudden transformation. The older boy was bloodied and beaten senseless. The boy no longer named Elijah faced them.

Shocked and scared at what they saw, they ran.

See, Elijah. You just had to get your hands dirty. Let me teach you how...

[me_less]

Rummaging through the attic, the adolescent and wiry Elijah was bored looking for a new book to read. He seemed to have a knack for learning things and his interest was piqued by his father's tomes on cantrips. His father was a mage and chief advisor to the king of the lands so his access to spells were numerous compared to the norm. Searching through an old dusty chest, a long object carefully wrapped in a felt cloth buried in the bottom caught his attention. He emptied the contents of the chest and carefully pulled it out. After unwrapping the numerous folds of felt, he found himself surprised with what he saw.

Before him lay a scimitar made of an unknown metal and kept in a scabbard of similar material. It was darker and stronger than any steel or iron he was familiar with. He pulled the blade out and a green ichorous liquid followed it. It dripped unto the attic floor and a instant hiss came about. The wood began to burn away where the liquid fell. It was acid!

"What are you doing there, boy! Put that away!" Startled, he hurriedly sheathed the blade and looked upon his father now standing behind him. "Father, what is this? Is this yours?" With a look of remembrance, he replies. "Aye, it is. It is a memory of a life long ago. It was a gift from the king and it bears his royal crest." "But... but I thought you hated violence. You always forbade me to fight. You always told me to just run away. I don't understand..."

"And I still forbid you to fight. Violence never solved anything for me. The more I fought it, the more it came knocking. When your mother and I met, I knew I had to leave my old life behind. When you were born, I knew even more that I had to shield my family from such a life. Even more so now... please put that thing away. It will hurt more than it will claim to heal. The Theodaine name will no longer be a family of adventurers"

And then a loud crash rang in the air. It was the sound of the front door being splintered into the house. Startled, Elijah stayed upstairs. His father ran down. Many loud voices began to shout. "Theodaine! You have advised against my plans for the last time! You will no longer have the king's ear! I will make sure of that!" "Sarakken, I serve the king and the interests of this land. Your bribery and scheming will not win me over. Your plans will bring downfall to this land and endanger the king. Do you not see the folly of YOUR plans?"

A loud thunderous laugh rings out. "It seems that you're smarter than I took you for. That's exactly what I'm doing. I am to be king of this land and your stonewalling is preventing my plans from moving forward." Theodaine exlcaimed, "You traitor!!! The king will hear of this! The people would rebel even if you did usurp the throne." More laughter ensued . "No, Theodaine. When my treachery is complete, the people will think that their king betrayed THEM! And they will gladly take me as their sovereign ruler. This of course means that you and your household will not leave this house alive. We can't have the people's most respected adviser telling stories, now can we?"

With that, the footsteps of many large men rushed into the house. The sound of his father being thrown against the wall caused Elijah to cringe. And then a high-pitched scream. "Oh no. It's Mother... Mother!!!" His father cried, "Elijah, get out of here!" Sarakken looks up. "Ah, that's where the whelp is hiding." Within moments, Sarakken was at the attic entrance. The frail Elijah paralyzed in fear, still clutching his father's blade and the king's gift. Sarakken recognized the blade and scabbard. "Come here, whelp! And give me that!"

A familiar voice yelled in his brain, "Elijah, draw the blade. Strike him!" "No... No, I can't!" "Oh course you can! He's about to kill you! Draw it!" "I... I can't. I can't move..." "Dammit Elijah! Jump then! JUMP NOW!!!" With that, Elijah jumped through the attic window with a loud crash of broken glass. He tumbled down the roof and landed in the bushes below with a loud thud. "Ugghhhh...." He was in pain. "Elijah, RUN!! Get up! Forget the pain. JUST RUN!" Elijah no longer spoke. He only obeyed. Adrenaline was pumping in his veins. His lungs burned for air. He did not even realize that he still clutched his father's blade. But he kept on running. "Run, Elijah! Don't stop. Keep running!" Branches tore at his face and body. But he did not stop. He didn't stop when he crashed into the bushes. He didn't stop when he fell into pools of water. He didn't stop until his body could no longer go on. He didn't stop until the curses of angry men faded into the forest. He didn't stop until the shadow of dusk hid him from his captors.

Collapsed and panting heavily, his eyes were closed in pain and his lungs burned like fire. His body no longer able to move despite whatever command it was given. "Thank.. thank you, .... whoever... you are... Who... who are... you?" panted Elijah through his broken breaths. "I was born in the thorn bushes and now I will hide you in the twilight. You may call me Duskthorne. I am now your only friend. And I will take care of you from this point on..."

[me_less]

((fast forward to more recent events due to in game character development. More on his history at a later time))


It is another restless night. Though Elijah's eyes are closed and his body asleep, his mind is busy in conversation. His eyes twitch rapidly and thus signifying dreams so real that Elijah will most likely remember them as so when he awakens...

"Duskthorne, I've decided to give my life over to the Triad. To serve them and their cause. I am tired of running. I'm tired of carrying the burden of my sins by myself. I tire of having a soul divided."

"Elijah, do you honestly think that this is the answer? I was the one that saved your life. I fended for us in those foreign streets when we had no money nor food to eat. It was I that helped us evade those bounty hunters when they drew close. Do you think faith will provide you with this security? Will faith feed you when you stomach grows hungry? Or defend you when you lie helpless on the ground?"

Elijah pauses unsure of how to answer. Faith is a new thing to him. And Duskthorne has been real. The protection and the food he provided has been real. His companionship has been real. Though nascent in his understanding, he utters a response. "Yes. Yes, I do. I don't know how yet but somehow the Triad will sustain me. Deep inside of me, I believe that the Triad is the true faith. They will give me strength and provide for me. But first, I need Ilmater to save me... to make me whole."

"Elijah, I have stayed my blade when you felt the one I hunted was innocent. I passed over lucrative bounties when you grew suspicious of a client's intentions. I respected your belief in good and did not force you to do otherwise. But do not expect me to follow your faith. Do not expect me to follow your vows of never raising weapon or magic to slay human, elf, dwarf, gnome, or otherwise. This faith and your vow will be our downfall. I will help your new friends if you wish, but I will do so through my means. Do not shackle me with their methods or your vows and I will help you achieve their goals."

"Duskhtorne, I agree then. You have always been a friend, companion, and protector. I pray one day that you will understand my new faith, but I will not force you. Hopefully, time will tell of my sincerity. And hopefully, you'll join me in it..."