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Post by zarrin »

It was so bloody hot outside. Dakan had been traveling this blasted wasteland for near a week without shelter. What he was looking for, not even he could say. He had encountered no resistance thus far from the black-eyed savages called the Aiel, perhaps they were simply toothless desert cats not as fierce as their reputation. Thoughts halted as he came upon a small camp. And hopefully water.

He ducked into the tent where the old woman had set up shop looking nearly as surprised as she did. The rustic beard and sword he carried sounded alarms in her head. "What is this! Get out of here! You do not belong here!" The woman shouted and spat as she struck him with whatever nearby heavy object was within reach, her old face twisted with anger, shock, and disdain.

The wetlander smirked as he lifted his sword, turning from defensive to striking posture. That shining blade was the last thing the old woman ever saw. One swift turn of his wrist, and a spray of crimson blood painted a clean line on the dusty tan of the tent. The woman dropped into a crumpled heap of skin and bones.

What madness was this? Slaying women, shopkeepers...Why do I not care?

The Companion rubbed his hand hard over his rustic beard with a sigh into the empty tent. "Well, they're not going to like this, I think."

As Dakan emerged from the tent, sword drawn and stained red, he saw hundreds of them. Their light colored eyes staring silently at him. Almost as one they deftly donned their black veils. The lone wetlander turned slowly, sliding into Leopard in High Grass.


"A Clan Chief is Dead! Women who are not Maidens, Dead! Silversmiths, crafters! How many more?"

The sound of spears rattled on bucklers was enough to shake her very lungs. The roar of tens of thousands resounded from the stone walls in the sept. Ilda Caisn, Wise One of the Nine Valleys sept of the Taardad Aiel, watched from her perch of stone and dust between two other women as the leading men rallied their spears.

"Yet he did not stop there! He came again and again in the cold night to strike at our heart! This is no man... This is a plague we must burn from existence!"

The living forest of mottled caidin sor and sharp, deadly spear tips bristling, filled the valley with the thunder of vengeance. Yet the wetlanders will never hear a sound.

How he escaped the Three Fold Land is beyond her. She lifted her chin with a grim smile of satisfaction. But the wetlands will run red with the blood of Illian until this man is found and he pays.


King Mattin Stepaneos den Balgar paced the floor, hands clasped behind his back, before his once trusted personal body guard and one of the Companions. They were alone and his boots rang against the pristine marble floor. Early morning sunlight streamed in the wide glass windows, bathing the empty hall in glorious light. Dakan stood at attention with his back to the light.

"I should discharge you. Put you in the stocks. Have you flogged! Bloody fine way to pike off the savages, son. Have you taken complete leave of your senses? The King sighed gruffly. You know you are lucky to be alive."

The great double doors, emblazoned with two prowling leopards, swung open to admit a serving girl bearing a silver tray of tea and soft bread.

There is no way I could let it out that one of my own Companions went bloody berserk in the Waste. But how far can I trust this man to go unleashed? Mattin stopped his pacing to consider Dakan face to face.

The silver platter crashed to the floor with a head splitting clatter. Both men swung heads to the serving girl to see her staring open mouthed at the window.

There, rushing down the hillside like a violent flood of spears, death on foot came. The people and soldiers swept under the tide as it flowed into the city.

The King felt his heart clench for a fraction of a moment before both men moved decisively for the doors. He knew that a lot of people were going to die.
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Joined: Fri Aug 27, 2010 12:05 am

Re: Consequences

Post by Dakan »

A Fallen Man's Dreams

The iron gates of the fortress rattled shut behind the Companion Dakan Dalandor, a solid -clank- reverberating through the air. With the gates locked he turns his head, looking over his shoulder one last time at the towering fortress. The ocean breeze made waking up in the barracks a pleasure each morning. Yet by the time humidity from the swamps settled in, afternoon spars were often sweat drenched before the first wooden swords met. Illian took him in when he was worthless and made him the man he is. Now it was his turn to return the favor, only possible by leaving his home.

Turning his back to the fortress he set out through the cobblestone streets he had protected for so many years, now eirly empty. It was all in the details. The windows and doors were all closed and boarded up. Yet one could see scars in the wood where weapons hacked away trying to get inside. Rusted nails could be seen half pulled out on the window boards of people trying to pull them off from the outside. Tearing his eyes away from the desolation he steered towards the center market. The fact he couldn't hear the loud bustling crowds from this distance let him know that’s exactly where he wanted to be.

As narrow street started to widen into the market square, shadows flitting around the edge of his vision signaled for him to draw his sword. Reaching over his shoulder he drew the long slender sword from his sheath. The sheath itself a symbol of his rank, a gold plated scabbard. Several laural branches wrapped around the length of the sheath on one side, until they circled together on the other forming a circular crown. Bringing the sword before him brought one of the shadows darting from his side towards him causing him to duck low and bring his sword high, deflecting the narrow shaft of the spear. The polished blade slide down the hewn wood and a single upwards thrust caught the shadow in the chest. Without pause he grained his feet and pulled back his sword, letting the body fall to the ground.

With a bloody blade he remained quiet and watched as more Aiel emerged from corners of the deserted market. Soon the market was bustling once again, the air electrified with the promise of customers and merchants. He expected to sell many deaths to unwitting Aiel this day. Before they could lower their blackened veils all the way, he dashed into the first group of Aiel, bloodied sword leading his way.

Spears flashed towards him and years of experience took over. His sword flicked out, decapitating one man, the motion dancing into a overhead slash, landing into the body of a woman. For a split second his heart froze as he watched his sword pull free from her body as it slumped lifelessly to the ground. That split second cause a speartip to catch him in the thigh and his wrist snapped down, sword following severing the Aiel’s arms from weapon.

Stumbling back, his upper thigh causing him to stagger slightly, he assumed a defensive stance. His assault was brought to a halt and put onto defensive as a group of 4 red headed Aiel women leaped towards him. Two jabbed spears towards him at the same time, sword meeting shaft and parrying the strikes. Parry turned into a low sweep and he hamstrung one of the women coming towards his side, catching the momentum of his parry. The other three grinned at him viciously as they forced him back down a street.

He bared his teeth at them, and one laughed at his show of fear. Then again it’s hard to smile and grit your teeth through pain at the same time. This was his city, his home, his life. He didn’t happen to charge into the first group he saw, he picked one next to the street that would lead out of the city. They didn’t force him down the narrow alley, he baited them to follow him into more even fighting conditions. A Companion never flees, he merely wanted the Aiel to follow him from the city.

The fighting down the street was pain stakingly slow. The closer he grew towards the outskirts of the city, the more cuts and gashes he gathered. Each one a tally of another Aiel brought down. While the narrow street prevented him from being cornered, they didn't prevent the endless onslaught of the Aiel horde seeking retribution. Then slowly over the smell of fear, blood, and sweat, fresh air began to fill into the air. Quick glance behind him in the middle of backwards hack into the closest Aiel let him see the open sea of green land in the distance.

Yet the streets giving away to dirt outskirts the open escape behind him also meant the walls of houses and shops were no longer protecting him. With his thigh still throbbing and other wounds slowly fatiguing him he, Aiel started to surround him. Even though he was starting to be surrounded the way leading down the street and back into the market parted slowly and a tall woman with bronzed skin stepped forward from the crowded of black veiled savages.

Ilda Casin, Wise one of the Taardad Aiel. Dakan felt his life ebbing away as he watched her approach. She stared at him calmly as a spear struck him from behind, piercing his chest. Dakan cried out in pain as the spear was ripped out of his chest, pain flowering through his body. Stumbling backwards over bloodied bodies, he fell to the ground and watched as the Aiel around him pulled back.

Ilda Casin stepped forward and grabbed Dakan by the throat, pulling him back up. “You are dead, Dakan Dalandor,” she whispered. “Our warriors have brought vengeance to your lands. Your city is gone, you have lost.” Dakan could feel his life trickling away, he had been here many times before, distant memories of battles won and friends lost. Before he had been terrified that he would die. This time however, he was not. He harbored no regrets, just satisfaction.

Dakan looked up at the Wise One, a specter of his death. “Lost?” he whispered through clenched teeth. “I’ve won, Casin.” She arched an eyebrow at him and asked dismissively, “How is that?” Swallowing blood Dakan let out a painful laugh, “You left the city. I saved the lives of the people I’ve sworn to protect, you cant take that from me.”

Snarling at him Ilda Casin threw him back to the ground among the bodies of others already killed. A last black veiled savage stepped around here, spear clenched tightly in his hand. Dakan smiled one last time, defiantly, at Ilda Casin. The unnamed Aiel warrior’s arm shot forward, spear aimed straight for his neck.


The world flashed before him and Dakan felt a surge of energy and hope fill his weary bones. He would not die here, not on his knees. Rolling to the side he grabbed the spear with one hand and raised his sword, slashing down to serve the arm of the Aiel. Wrestling the spear from a dead grip, Dakan heft the spear and thew it at the Wise One. Ilda Casin fell back with a scream, a spear sprouting from her chest. Surging to his feet, the one time Companion, now hunted outcast of humanity, fought once more for his life.

Seeing their Wise One slain, several Aiel ran to her side, while others simply dropped their weapons and ran. The few who did come after him were fell with the efficiency only a cornered man fighting for his life manage. Turning from the carnage, Dakan Dalandor made his escape down the dirt streets until he met the swamp. A bloody grin spread over his face as he took in the sight of the murky water before him.

Discarding his scabbard and any last remnants of his years of service from the Companions, a man known as Dakan Dalandor, once one time Companion, fled into the protection of the wetlands. After all, a horde of savages will only pause for so long before the hunt begins again.


Back in Illian, the spear thrust into a fallen man’s neck, severed his head from his lifeless body. The body fell back, spitting out the last of his life, filling the street with blood, as the head rolled to a rest. Ilda Casin lifted her skirts and walked over to the ghastly head, already growing pale. Seeing he was dead and the people of the Three Fold Land have been avenged she flashed a quick hand sign. All around her Aiel withdrew their blackened veils and started their trek eastwards. She frowned as she looked down one last time upon the man once known as Dakan Dalandor, for there was a smile on his still face.
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