(Originally Posted on L2RPA.org Feb 06, 2006)
This story comes from the plotline of my warrior, Davin Trene
Rated R for images of gore and fantasy combat
It had been almost three years since my last trip home. The boat beneath me felt like it always had, almost as if I were simply an extention of the planks. I would never forget the gentle rocking of the waves, the smell of the sea air, the sound of the wind in the sails.
The ocean was in my blood, it always has been. I practically grew up on the water, fishing with my father from his small little boat every day from dawn till dusk.
I had been the only one out on the boat after that foul orc pirate had nearly killed my father, but eventually my limited skills weren't enough to stem the ongoing degredation.
That was when I resumed my training, and when I eventually left the island.
Pulling into port, I raced home to the village, eager to see my family again. Little Maegen had been but a girl when I'd left; she was no doubt a woman now. Father had recovered nicely from the attacks and, through the letters I'd recieved from him, I knew he'd resumed fishing.
The house was empty when I got there, which wasn't surprising. Maegen was most likely in her studies at the school, and father was undoubtedly casting a net somewhere on the island.
Speaking with some of the neighbors confirmed the latter, but it would seem that Maegen had followed my footsteps and departed for Gludin to continue her studies on the advice of the Magister. I'd have to look her up when I got back to the mainland.
I set off to the north; they'd said that father was trying his luck at the cliffs on that side of the island. What had once seemed like such a long run was nothing now. The werewolves and spiders were nothing; I actually enjoyed the thrill of letting them chase me, then turning, glaive in hand, and laying them all low.
The sun was going down when I came around the northern tip of the island. I could see a campfire,but as I closed in I noticed that something was wrong. There were many surrounding the fire, but they were short, squat bodies: orcs.
I recognized the largest immediately: Uthanka, the pirate that had almost killed us so many years ago. I crept up on the fire, crawling low to the ground.
I slipped in a puddle, and when I pulled my hand up, it was coated with blood. There were entrails piled up, along with bones. Human bones. I gasped, searching the carnage for any sign of who it might have been. I shouldn't have. Nearby, atop a short pike, was my father's head.
The sound of my heart pounding filled my ears, and darkness crept in around my vision. I don't remember falling, but when I came to, I was bathed in blood: orc blood. Bodies surrounded me, and a squirming, squealing beast was in my hands.
I had him now, Uthanka, captain of the orcish pirates that plied the waters around the Island. He was begging for mercy in a high, squeaky voice, the words almost unintelligeable.
I thought about letting him go, like I had all those times over the years when he'd tried to reassert his dominance. I considered it for the span of a heartbeat, my hands clenched around the sides of his warty, green head.
I started squeezing, his squeals of pain growing sharper and more genuine. I squeezed, and I squeezed, and I felt the bone crack. I felt the blood run from his eyes and nose, I felt his brain explode.
I was not happy... I was too late. I was too many years too late.
************************************************** ***********
I returned to the mainland after selling my father's house. There was nothing left in it for the Trene family; Maegen would recieve a share of the adena, the rest would go into the coffers of the Blade Raiders.
I boarded the ship one last time, looking back as the Island shrank in the distance, finally vanishing over the horizon.
Uthanka was dead, but he'd taken a part of me with him.