Tales of the Redeemed

[darkwulf365]

Daren sighed and shook his head.  He didn't mean to hit him that hard, just enough to jolt him.  The boy used to be tougher, but from the looks of him, the past eight years haven't been that kind to him either, the boy looked underfed, underslept, and overstressed.  He saw the strange design that looked like it was
burned into his arm, and what looked like bad scars on his hands.  He sighed again, and looked to the sky before walking over to his brother's backpack and started to rummage through it.

"'ey...where do ya keep yer food?  I'm starvin'" Daren said in a grumbling voice loud enough to be heard a mile away.  Jaren stirred slightly and groaned softly.  

"Oh, quit yer whinin' boy.  Th' sun is up, and it looks like ye'd sleep half the day away if'n I let ya."  Daren said, with a suprisingly normal looking smile on his round face.

Jeran sat up slowly, holding his head, watching his brother rummage through his possesions with one barely open eye.  

"There's nothing valuable in there.  If it's money you want, I don't have any"  Jeran said, his voice still slurred from sleep.

"Bah...nuthin' ta eat" Daren mumbled quietly and then looked up at his brother "And dunna be lying, I know of th' small fortune ye have stashed away in th' bank.  Nay, I din't come 'ere fer yer money, or yer precious things.  I come here because of ye actually, and for ye, if ye'd hear me out."

Hearing that Jeran scoffed and gave his brother a heartless smile "I'll believe that when I see it."  Finding his canteen in the mess that was now his campsite, he took a quick drink before continuing.  "You've never had any interest in anything or anybody but yourself.  So why should now be any different?"

Daren looked down and touched the holy symbol around his neck before queitly answering "B'cause...change happens."  Daren continued on, telling Jeran of what happened the past eight years.  He told him of his imprisonment, his sad lonlieness, his last visit to their empty home and his subsequent dream of his goddess and his commitment to her.  

After his tale, Jeran sat looking down and thinking hard for a moment before asking how Daren found him.  With a slight chuckle he answered "Yer dog was th' one that found me.  He was th' one that wanted me here.  One look at ye and now I know why."

Jeran's eyes narrowed dangerously at Deran and he said in a quiet voice "Dog talks gibberish most times, and only to me.  And why pray tell...would he want you to help me?"

More quiet laughter followed from Daren.  "Told me in a dream yer dog did, talked quite clearly I thought, much better than meself if I do say so."  Taking a breath to quiet himself he then looked at his brother closely, concern lining his round face.  "And I be here boy b'cause yer dangerous...very dangerous.  Yer in some dire need of help before somethin' happens to ye.  I also met a lass the other day, fine girl, tall, red hair...said her name was Anna.  She seemed to be quite taken with ye, that be easy to tell.  I could read th' worry about ye on 'er face just as well"

Jeran flushed and his face grew dark and full of anger, and he almost shouted.  "And what do you know?  You're nothing but a farm boy gutter rat.  Living trouble that walks on two legs.  You've always been nothing, are nothing...will always be nothing."  He stood up and quickly grabbed his sword and drew it, the blade springing into flame and pointed it at his older brother.  His voice dropped, becoming a dead quiet near whisper.  "And if you...ever go near Anna again, I swear...I will rip your guts out and leave you for dead.  Trust me, nobody will miss you."

Daren's expression never changed, he just sighed slightly as he also stood, regarding his younger sibling for a moment.  With a quickness that seemed eerie for a man his size, he quickly picked Jeran up and slammed his back against the nearest tree.  

"Listen 'ere...*boy*." Daren said in the same deadly quiet voice as Jeran's.  "Ye have a gift...I can feel it shining around ye like th' sun.  But ye use it fer no purpose.  I know it cost ye dearly, and I know yer still payin' for it.  Ye have a fine girl who'd follow ye to th' ends o' th' earth.  But still ye push on, always wantin' more, killin' yeself for nothin'.  Hurtin' those who care about ye by yer foolishness.  I know yer ashamed of what we were, but ye should be proud of what ye became...for I know when I look at ye that I am"  Daren let go and his brother fell to the ground, his face a mixture of shame and anger.  Daren got down on one knee beside him and looked him in the eyes.  "Ye've always been th' smart one, always been the dreamer.  And now yer all I got left, and I dunna want ta see anythin' happen to ye...or yer lass."  Daren reached out to tussle Jeran's hair but instead just looked at him quizically.  "Gods boy...have ye never heard of a comb?"  He laughed quietly before continuing "Family be the most important thing ever, and I'll do whatever it takes ta keep ye and yer girl safe...even if she dunna like me too much." He added with a quick grin.

"Don't call me boy, you're only two years older..." Jeran replied in a small voice.

Daren grinned even wider and stood up, dusting himself off.  "Bah...two yearsolder, but a lifetime wiser."  He turns and starts to walk toward the gate leading into town.  "I be off ta town...if'n I don't eat soon, I'll waste away ta nothin."  He turns one last time with a smile.  "Know that yer brother loves ye, and may the blessings and the love of the Redemptress be upon ye and keep ye safe."

[darkwulf365]

Night has fallen, and inside of a small room in the Wild Surge, a large man sits at a small table, eating his evening meal.  The room is easily cluttered by the man's few possesions.  Most notable is the large two-handed axe, leaning in the corner shining dully in the low light given by the single lamp in the room.  As he takes his last bite, he regards the weapon with a slight sighing.  In his subconcious, he has named it his "Piecemaker", something his younger brother might find extremely amusing, but this man would not readily admit to.  After finishing his dinner, he slowy pushes away his chair and begins to stack his dinner dishes to clear off a small place on the table.  He turns and opens up his travel pack and starts to dig around inside.  After some moments, he finds what he is looking for.  He sets a small book, yellowed with age, and smelling of must and mildew but the pictures and words inside still remained bright and colorful even after all these years.  The man knows the story, for it is a child's story, told over and over with only slight variations.  But this is the last thing Daren found at his family's old home, and it was his younger brother's favorite book.  Daren touches the book fondly a smile of reminicesence on his round face.  It brought back memories of a time when life was simpler, and there just seemed to be more love and happieness in the world.  He sighs again, this time with a great sadness, he crosses his hands, closes his eyes, bows his head and starts to pray in a soft voice, barely above a whisper.

Lord, tis me...Daren.  Thank ya fer th' gifts ye've given me, fer th' few friends I gots.  Fer showin' me Miss Kayla, an fer allowin' us ta visit yer temple in Saudria.  an fer lettin me lay eyes on Jeran, an Anna, that be th' girl that's ta be 'is wife.  E'en though she hates me guts, I be plenty happy fer 'em both and But I'd like ta tell ye that I be proud o' both o' 'em, an love 'em more than I e'er thought I could.  But I be guessin ye already knew that.  An if'n it be not too much trouble, could ye please bless 'em both an their upcomin' marriage wit' the same love that ye've shown me an protect 'em both so that they may live long an happy lives.

An now that I said that...I has ta tell ya I dunna think I be livin' up ta yer expectations o' me.  Not that I be doubtin' ye or me faith, it's just that...I dunna think I c'n e'en describe it.  I been tryin' ta help as many as I c'n, I been thinkin' o' donatin all th' potions I been makin' an all me extra money ta the needy.  E'en tryin' ta learn how ta cook proper sos I c'n donate food ta th' hungry.  But it dunna seem like it be enough.  An I be meetin' people who be worshipin' gods that dunna exactly see eye ta eye wit ye.  That confuses me th' most, acause I dunna what ta do wit' em.  Part o' me wants ta bash their heads in, but another part o' me tries ta unnerstand an make peace betwixt th' faiths.  But
ifn' ye want me ta be bustin' heads in yer name, all ye have ta do is say so.  

Anyways, just tell me what ye want me ta do.  Yer will be my command, and I love ye fer what ye do fer me an fer th' world.  An like I said, blessings upon all me friends, yer love upon me family an those I hold dear, and ifn' ye could, enlighten those that dunna unnerstand an mercy ta those that'd stand 'gainst us.

In Az'atta's name I pray.

With a deep breath, the man finishes his nightly ritual.  He smiles, feeling satisfied now that he got that off his chest and turns his attention to the small book that lay closed before him.  He slowly and carefully opens it to the first page, and squints hard in concentration.  His thick fingers slowly trace the letters on the page as his eyes move between the pictures above, and the words below trying to decipher what they exactly say.

[darkwulf365]

The sun was setting in Port Hampshire, its red glow mixing with the blue of the Sea, waving and refracting, turning the ocean water a deep purple.  Daren stood, looking out at this sight, the smell of the ocean salt and the sounds of the flags of Deliar snapping in the stiff but warm breeze coming off the water.  A few ships floated in the harbor, from this distance the dockhands and sailors looked like little dolls, the boats like very big toys.  It was quite a sight, and his only regret was that Jil was not there by his side to take it in with him.

This was the first time in what seemed like forever that he was able to rest and reflect.  Ever since his first "talk" with Jeran, it seemed as if he was constantly on the run.  In the mine, in the smithy, at the holy pool creating potions of aid for the seemingly neverending stream of the needy.  He was planning on gifting them to the city and letting them take care of the tediousness of distribution.  But, the needy and the newcomers to Hlint were coming out in droves, and demand was quickly outrunning his supply.  Work, work, work during the day, trying to learn to read and praying at night.  His reading was coming along fairly well, the rusty machine that was his brain started to kick in and was moving along fairly well.  The old lessons from his childhood memories were beginning to return, that old kid's story about warn through from his constant reading, re-reading, and comparisons to other written texts that he could comprehend.  Most importantly, he discovered he could actually think a semi intelligent thought.  He wasn't as dumb as he thought he was.  Granted, he'd never be a scholar, but common sense goes a long way.  He was pleased to know that this old dog could still learn new tricks.

Thinking of Dog's and tricks he sighed and thought of his little brother.  He closed his eyes and sent these soft words up to the heavens.  

"Ma'am? Tis me 'gain...Daren"

He stopped suddenly, Az'atta didn't, hadn't really ever talked back to him.  He thought of his dream about her, She was there, and he knew everything She wanted him to know.  But he couldn't remember any words being said between either of them.  It worried him, not that he couldn't understand Her.  But, what if She thought he was ignoring Her?  Or abusing the gifts that She gave him?  He sent up a prayer of thanksgiving every night, and quite a few during the day.  When you're dealing with God, he thought, you can't be *too* polite.  He pursed his lips and thought, Az'atta was a Drow, maybe She'd understand that better.  Even if all he could learn was "Thank You", She might love him a little more for his efforts.  He quickly decided to continue on in common, even if She didn't understand, it'd be impolite to just get Her attention and then not say anything.  Like tapping a giant on the shoulder and then running away, not polite, and definately not good for your health.

*Clears his throat quietly* "Sorry 'bout that, Anyw'ys, tis me, Daren 'gain.  I dunna want ye ta think I only talks at ye when I be wantin' somethin'.  But, me brother, Jeran.  Th' boy's got me worried somethin' fierce ma'am.  He ain't been 'round lately.  I dunna know ifn' 'e's hidin' fr'm somethin' er some'ne.  Feels like 'e jus' up an' dis'ppeared of'n th' face o' th' eart'.  If'n it be yer will, c'ld ye send 'im a li'l d'vine 'elp er somthin'?  I dunna wants ta see anythin' 'appen ta 'im."

"An speakin' o' yer will...I been 'avin idears.  Well, e'er since I went ta that storytellin' thing, an listenin' ta Mister Ozy talk bout this whole war thing wit' the deaders an th' devils an all that rot.   Anyw'ys, me idear w's ta take one o' yer old temples...act'ally...I dunna care who's temple it use' ta be.  Ifn' ye want it, I get it fer ye.  An, I c'ld fix it up fer ye.  That way people gots someplace ta go, an yer faithful dunna 'ave ta go all th' way ta Saudria ta look upon ye.  Mister Ozy got me ta thinkin' that th' world be needin' more good places like th' ones ye gots.  I w's thinkin' at th' worst, it give people a chance ta learn bout us, an what we stand fer.  I dunna think I be much fer speakin er sermonin', ifn' ye ain't guessed alr'dy I ain't too good wit' words.  An I been savin' up fer it fer awhile now, so ifn' ye w'ld, jus' let me know what ye think.  *He smiles in a somewhat teasing way* Ifn' I dunna 'ear fr'm ye, I spend it on Jil.  So's ye bett'r make up yer mind pretty quick ma'am.  *He laughs softly* Ye know I be teasin' ye, I love ye jus' much as I love Jil, an' I say thankee fr'm th' bottom o' me heart ta both o' ye.  Tis in yer name that I be 'ere an that I pray, so fer that an' fer ye, I be thankful...Amen"

[darkwulf365]

The moon rose high in the night sky over Hlint.  Daren sat at a table in the Wild Surge.  A book sat open before him, along with several pieces of parchment, and a stick of coal.  It had been a few days since his trip to the Great Library with Jil.  And only the second time he had tried reading without her.  To say it was going well would be a gross understatement.  He looked up, rubbing his temples, and sighed regrefully.  He thought, using his straightforward and somewhat flawed logic, young brains must be more learnable than older ones, like a piece of wet sponge that's left out to dry.  It seemed like such a simple task, he thought that one book could teach him everything there was to know, simple as bashing an orc, he thought.  That fantasy lasted up until the time he actually turned to the first page.

'Thoughts on Death by Roferien's cleric Mercutio'  A kid's story about a lost dragon, this definately wasn't.  Jil thought it would be interesting to him, being that it had to do with Death (which he was quite good at dealing out), and clerics (which was what Az'atta wanted him for).  Daren thought it seemed appropriate too.  After gazing at that first page for what seemed like hours, appropriateness went out the window.  No pictures, no color, just letters upon letters stretching for what looked to be forever.

He knew what letters were of course, he even could remember that there were 26 of them.  What they meant though remained a mystery.  Jil had explained to him that the letters represented sounds.  In between battles with the book, he practiced reproducing them on his pieces of parchment.  He found out he was skilled enough to copy most of them so that anybody could read them.  There were a few though, "m" and "n" he mixed up quite often.  "v", "u", and "w" were also stumpers unless he was quite careful.  "k" he felt should just be eliminated with extreme prejudice, it was just that bloody hard.  He really didn't want to learn writing at the same time ('Gots ta crawl b'fore ye walk, no need fer fancy junk like writin' yet' he thought), but it helped him memorize the sounds that the different letters made.  He was lucky, his book contained most of the letters he would ever need, so he could cheat if he had to.  He silently reminded himself that the letters, as individuals, meant really nothing, together they made words, and the words were what made reading...well...reading.  

It was the idea of words, and what they represented that threw him the hardest. He kept getting hung up on concepts instead of pronunciation.  That one word, could have many meanings, well, it just wasn't right.  One thing, one meaning, he decided that if he was ever put in charge of whatever decided such things that would be the way it'd be.  He sighed, grabbed another parchment and wrote something, slowly and carefully.  The word was an easy one, sounding almost like the letters it was made up from.  Muttering to himself and frequently referencing his book, and his previous lists of the alphabet, he came up with this.

L...'This'n be easy'
u...'Th' one wit' th' curvy bottom'
v...'This'n be like t'oth'r, but pointy'  

He didn't know if that was right, but he sounded it out, and it certainly did sound like 'love'.  As he said it quietly to himself, the picture of Az'atta entered his mind, followed closely by Jil.  Seeing poor Vivian so distraugt over Jet's falling in Storan's crypt turning into joy at his recovery.  People holding hands walking through town.  Children playing together in the street.  Couples whispering to one another like they were the only people in the world.  He smiled to himself as he sighed.  One word, so many meanings.  He started to pick up his things and walk back to his room.  Just wasn't right he thought.

"Love" he whispered it one last time and the image of Jil in her new green dress entered his mind and stayed there until he fell asleep, a small smile on his face.

[darkwulf365]

It was all in the way they talked.  Yes, that was definately wrong, the words, not quite right, especially the ones coming out of his mouth.  The words were wrong, so that meant he must be dreaming.

The temple of Baraeon Ca'Duz stood before him, it had no shape in the darkness that enveloped him.  It was there, that's all he knew, all he needed to know.  It was there, he was here, and the time had come.

His gauntled hands run lovingly over the banner of Az'atta that he carried with him at all times.  After taking a deep breath he plants it firmly in the earth and turns toward where the temple is, his face a picture of determination.

"Children of the bastard godling Baraeon Ca'Duz." His voice rolls like thunder in the night.  "I am Daren Valhaikor cleric of Az'atta and  I come before you now to demand the safe release of your prisoner.  I demand the end of hostilities toward the worshippers of my Goddess.  Submit to me now, and turn towards the true path or I shall consider this an act of war, and will spend the rest of my days wiping your filth from the world until your God is brought low and begs for mercy before me."

"Who...who art thee to demand such things before a house of a GOD?!?!" comes a massive roar from inside the temple.  Daren stands firm, unflinching, unafraid and untouched by its fury.  And suprisingly, Daren thought he knew who's voice it was.

"I am one that shall break thee, impotent godling, as simple as as the sea upon a rocky shore.  Save your children and command them to do as I ask, or I shall bring you down and all your followers."  He clenches his jaw, gripping his axe tighter "Every...last...one."

The darkness that was the temple changes, the spidery shape seems to shimmer in the night.  Red eyes illuminate the darkness.

"Ye are nothing...human." The voice drips with contempt.  The spider shaped temple is no longer a temple, just a spider.  Large, black, poison dripping from it's fangs, it approaches slowly.  The banner planted in the ground snaps in the sudden wind.  He picks up his shield, and with a word, his axe bursts into flames.  It is no more than ten paces away now.  "A small, insignificant, flickering flame in the wind that is about to expire...NOW."

It lunges...

Everything becomes a white flash...

He awakens with a start, a shout barely held back, his heart racing, and his breathing rapid.  He turns on his couch to the bed beside him.  She didn't hear, didn't move, she's still resting, good.  He can see her shape under the covers outlined in the night.  He smiles, she is safe, and totally unaware, she must be kept so, for if she knew...

He rises quietly, walking downstairs to the living room.  The embers from the fire give off a soft red glow.  Sitting on one of the couches, he finds his newest book from the Great Library.  The reading has been going so slowly, with the wedding, the stress, the constant working.  He shakes his head and thinks someday he'll be able to relax.  Staring at the cover he grins, Az'atta the Wretched it's titled.  One day he'll find out who wrote that and teach them the meaning of Wretched.  He turns to the first page knowing what's inside, seeing the words, able to sound them out, but still not sounding right in his head, or in the soft muttering as his lips trace out the syllables.  He thought about that and in his mind he shrugged, it would just take time is all.

The sky was red with dawn when Jil found him, head down, the book open before him, and shook him awake to start their day.

[darkwulf365]

The moon was high in the sky next to Blackford Castle.  Daren lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling.  A still form, beauty in motion, serenity at rest, his wife lay next to him.  Several small tears ran down the side of his face.  He wept for the nation of Tibum now laid to waste.  He wept for those faceless strangers who's lives had been changed forever.  People he could not protect.  He wept for aiding in the destruction of the temple of Baraeon Ca'Duz.  He did not know how many died that day, especially those by his own hands.  They too were faceless strangers defending only what they thought was right.  Aylahadratha was the only one, the rest he could not save.  He wept for his wife laying next to him.  Not a stranger, and a face he knew very well.  A person he could love, but not nearly as long as he wanted to.  He knew that if the upcoming war didn't take him, old age would, and again Jil would be left alone, her heart broken.  

Death, nothing but death running rampant through the world.  He had caused more than his fair share already.  All he could do was mentally shake his head. He dared not move, fearing Jil would wake and start worrying.  He had held this attitude that the only way to find peace was destroying everything that stood against you.  If Jeran was there, and was still approchable, he would've called it "Peace through superior firepower" or "Might makes right"...all puns intended.  Daren just thought it was what he was supposed to do, what Az'atta wanted him to do.  Even going so far as to remark once with a crazy half grin that 'Killin' ain't me fav'rite thing in th' world.  I jus' 'appen ta be good at it'.  

Being married changed all that.  He had somebody to care for and watch over, a life outside of his.  That life, more precious than his own, that could possibly even now, even so soon, be carrying another inside herself.  His own family was a distant haunting memory, a sad thought, but wonderful inside it's core.  Knowing your wife would outlive you by many scores of years made him wonder if that's all he would ever be to his own family.  A memory, a picture on the wall, the owner of that rusted axe hanging in a closet in some corner of the house.  Or maybe even some words in a dusty book on a shelf in the Great Library.

Death.  He was not afraid to die, he believed that he would find his way into his Goddess's arms someday.  But not before his wife and his family, and especially not as a wrinkled old man lost of wits, teeth and his right mind.  He laid there for hours trying to figure out how to ask God about fixing this problem without waking Jil.  His last thought before he could even start his quiet prayer, was that he hoped the pillow would be dry before morning.  He awoke to the sun shining through the window, Jil's smiling face awake next to him taking away the sad night.  His conversation with God never even beginning.

[darkwulf365]

Daren sat on a bench outside Pranzis, capital of Laynonara.  Living in the city was a new experience, to say the least.  As Yard pointed out, not more then a day after his wife had purchased the house, the benches here were nice, coming complete with used arrows stuck in the.  Daren shuddered at the thought of sneak thieves running between the houses of the Haft Lake district during the nighttime hours.  City life was definately not for him, but Jil had wanted this, and he knew he couldn't deny her anything, especially not now, with their child growing inside of her.  So, he made himself enjoy this place, even if he would always consider Blackford Castle their home.  

The healer said they were going to have a baby girl, and he knew without thinking that her name would be Sharyn.  He knew that the city with all it's...fancieness would open his daughter's eyes to the world, and leave her with far more opportunities than growing up on a farm near some backwoods town.  He knew that she would have a better chance at a life far greater than her father's.  That didn't make him any less nervous about the arrows stuck in the bench, and so as he sat looking out over the small lake that dominated their little community, his axe sat beside him, on his other side, a small brown book.  Arrows, sneak theives and too many people may be the only things Daren could think to describe Pranzis, but at least the view here was quite nice.

Beautiful scenery, a beautiful wife and a beautiful baby girl just waiting to come out into the world.  Some might be jealous, some might smile and nod with appreciation for Daren's good fortune.  Daren however, could only sigh in sadness.

The war was getting closer.  The horror that was the destruction of Tibum seemed more like a warning shot across the bow of a passing ship.  The time for petty hopes and the vision of ever having a "normal" life were quickly diminishing.  Collection efforts were being made, soldiers being sent off.  Stone had fallen now, and he was nowhere even close enough to lend a hand.  Peace seemed like a falacy, some paradoxical entity that could never be achieved.  Again he sighed, closing his eyes, his hand found the worn leather cover of the small book beside him.  He knew what it the book was, could even slowly and haltingly struggle through some parts of it.  The parts of it he wasn't afraid not to touch that was.  These were the gospels of Az'atta, how old they were he wasn't sure.  It seemed to speak to him, the words on the pages seeming to come to life within his mind.  

After attacking and destroying the monastery housing the Llama, child-avatar of Aragen, the God of Enlightenment.  Az'atta drank some of the Llama's blood while enacting a foul ritual in Baraeon's honor, and for a brief moment, she glimpsed the True Path of Enlightenment...

Daren saw this scene, the death and destruction.  The dark beautiful white haired priestess kneeling before the crude altar constructed before her.  The goblet overfull with the blood of a child.  The small drink taken, her eyes widening first in shock, and then revulsion.  The chalice falling, its contents spilling upon the earth.  This saddened him, and now he thought he understood some people's hatred for his Goddess, and the race she represented.

Az'atta renounced her allegiance to Baraeon and the Drow People...She and her followers fled the Underdark and moved to the surface lands.  Pursued relentlessly by her people for her "betrayal" and not trusted by the sruface races, she and her followers led difficult lives...Nevertheless, she and her followers sought out those in need of mercy, redemption and love and aided them however they could, without thought or need of reward

He saw the group of priests, walking in the rain soaked to the bone in the streets of some forgotten town.  Robes spattered with mud, torn almost beyond repair.  In the center, the dark priestess, unmoved by the hardship, although looking just as destitute as the rest.  Starving, shivering, approaching absolute strangers, offering what little they could in the way of aid.  Speaking broken common, receiving strange looks, sometimes blows and swears in return.  Unfaltering she walked the lands with the few who would still follow.  Her dark angular features forged by malice and obscene love, now softened and becoming the epitome of a gentle beauty.  White hair hanging below her waist matted and tangled from living without a home, looking more and more like a begger in the street than a future goddess.  Every time this image appeared to Daren, he wondered how so many could be so blind for so long?  So much anger, serving no purpose, hatred for the sake of hating.  He saw as their numbers dwindled to only two, the chosen, the most devout, all of those returning slain by the acolytes of Baraeon Ca'Duz.

A single tear found it's way down the side of Daren's face as he mourned the loss of those he did not know, the first disciples brave enough to follow Az'atta to the surface, even though they turned away from her when the toils of life became too hard for them.  Shaking his head as if coming out of a dream and closing the book as quickly and as carefully as he dared.  He knew what came next in this tale, and he wasn't sure he could handle any images his mind might conjure up.  He sighed softly, looking back toward his house where Jil was waiting.  He stood slowly, picking up his axe from where it lay on the bench.  The feel of it in his hand no longer felt natural.  He thought of his suit of armor, hanging on a stand inside.  The thought of putting it on seemed repulsive for some reason.  Thinking of the upcoming war made him sick.  So much pointless violence, pain and death.

His mind flashed back to the tale of Az'atta, and thinking of the all the Ca'Duzites he had slain and the temple he had helped to destroy.  He had certainly aided in making the score between the two gods a little more even, when a thought that had once quieted his troubled mind came to life with a startling realization.

Two wrongs never make a right.

Thinking deeply on this Daren sighed and made his way slowly back toward home.  On his way he spied dove, flying off into the evening sky.  A slight smile formed itself on his face as he thought that maybe there was some hope for him yet

[darkwulf365]

*It was nighttime in Blackford, Daren lay in bed with his wife Jil next to him.  His newborn (He didn't care how old she ever got, she'd always be newborn to him) daughter Sharyn' laying asleep in her crib near the bed.*

He awoke with a slight start, like he did most every night.  He wasn't a heavy sleeper in the first place (Jil would dissagree, on account of his snoring), but it was getting worse as time passed.  His encounter with the demon in the dark had made him ill, had made them both ill, and quite often he was awoken with the thought that something was wrong.  Maybe something watching, maybe nothing but nerves.  You'd think that with a celestial archon, only Az'atta knew how many axes, swords, suits of armor and not to mention a very big wolf that could never eat enough at his disposal, the house outside of Blackford Castle would be one of the safest places in Layonara.  It just didn't seem that way though.

Moving slowly as to not wake his wife, Daren crept out of bed and walked as silently as he could manage to Sharyn's crib.  Looking down at her, this most wonderful of blessings he managed to smile.  She still had both arms, both legs, only one head, and even managed a slight smile as she lay wrapped peaceful and warm in the red cloak of Az'atta he had given her.

Almost cursing himself for what he was about to do, knowing that if she threw a fit, he wouldn't ever hear the end of it from his wife (like her father, Sharyn' also had sleep issues, usually kicking in whenever him or Jil were the most tired, and least capable to deal with them).  He leaned over the crib, picking up the baby and turning to head downstairs when she started to fuss momentarily.

"Oh jus' hush ye" he whispered not unkindly but with a smile.  Suprisingly she did, opening her eyes and regarding her father.  The smile on round baby face growing a little as she blinked moving her head around, trying to see exactly what grand adventure they were about to embark upon.  As they exited the bedroom, heading down toward the living room "An dun't think 'bout throwin any sorta fuss.  If'n yer ma wakes up, I'm sure she's gonna put both o' us o'er 'er knee.  We're jus' goin downstairs is all, we needs ta 'ave a lil talk."

Sharyn' was a delight to talk to, at least when people weren't talking baby gibberish to her.  Sometimes laughing and smiling (Not at bath time however) other times seeming so serious, always looking with those dark brown eyes as if she understood, even at such a young age exactly what was going on.  This was one of those serious times and Daren appreciated his daughter's perceptivness as they finally snuck their way into the living room.  Sitting down slowly with Sharyn' resting on his knee.  He leaned over, picking up the worn leather brown book of Az'atta.  

"Yer ma says I'm s'posed ta let ye d'cide all on yer ownsome 'bout this sorta thing.  An as much as I dun't really wanna.  I do 'gree wit' 'er on this, aye?"  Again that deep brown eyed stare, this time punctuated with a soft baby laugh.  "Now...this thing 'ere...ye best not e'er sick up on it er try an eat it eith'r...this'll prolly be th' only time I show it ta ye, not b'cause I want it fer meself, but I'm sure there's gonna be oth'rs that c'n learn fr'm it jus' as much as ye an I, a'right?  So...'ere we go."  He slowly opened the ancient book, and started to softly read of it's opening pages to his young baby daughter.  It didn't seem to take very long, maybe he was getting a lot better at this reading thing, or maybe this was Az'atta's way of telling him he was coming along just fine.  By the time they reached the part where the Corathite assasins finally caught up with the young goddess, Daren realized his daughter had fallen fast asleep again.  That was fine by him, since he had never progressed beyond that particular point in the story as it was.  

Holding her on his lap, the occasional soft snore coming from her (He smiled at that, thinking that she really was his daughter) a thought came to him.  Quietly creeping upstairs, setting Sharyn' back down in her crib, he made his way to his dresser.  Reaching inside the pockets of his long coat he pulled out a piece of fine parchment.  Digging inside of Jil's pack for another book and a quill he walked softly into the sitting room.  Sitting on the couch he unfolded the paper and began to write, slowly, and as carefully as he could manage.  Taking what seemed like forever, always afraid Jil would wake to find him missing in bed and then tearing the house apart to find him. Although it took only about an hour, he finally finished, suprised that the sun hadn't come up yet.  Folding the parchment up again, and sliding it inside the pages of Jil's book.  He crept back into the bedroom, replacing it, and then himself next to his wife in bed.  

He let out a soft sigh as he pulled the covers back around him, a smile crossing his face as he drifted back off to sleep.

[darkwulf365]

*Daren walks upstairs into the bedroom of his house in Blackford, feet barely clearing each step as he walks hunched over with pain.  Jil has just left for Hampshire, so she won't be back for quite awhile.  Hopefully she'll be gone long enough for him to mend, at least he hopes so he couldn't let her see him like this.  His last adventure took more out of him than he'd ever admit to her.  And she was feeling, as she put it, playful, when he got home and was able to jolly her out of her worries.  Playful was the word she used when she meant, pick on, tease or soak Daren with bathwater.  Of course he obliged her, he was good at obliging his wife, no matter what really.  He smiled, missing her already, and then grimaced as he felt his shoulder scream out in pain (He thought it was a shoulder, somewhere in that general area that wasn't his back or his head at least).  Magical healing was nice, and he would never ever critisize his goddess for the gifts she has given him.  But most people don't understand that the human body wasn't mean to be broken and then shoved back together time and time again, even by potion or divine might.  Eventually it caught up to you and you just couldn't take any more.  In a flash of insight, Daren realized that's probably why they invented sleep.

Opening the bedroom door and stepping inside, he dropped his travel sack on the with a crash.  Without realizing that the Orb of Light and Dark was still in there.  Opening his pack he checked to see that, yes, it was still in one piece.  Then the crying started from Sharyn's crib, unthinking he had woken her up.*

"Great" he muttered as he limped his way over to the crib next to their bed.  He couldn't help but smile as he looked upon his daughter's face, her eyes open staring straight at him, blaming him for interrupting her sleep.  "Aye, I know, ye ain't gotta keep on 'bout it though...c'mere, we'll fix ye up"

Picking her up with another grimace of pain and the thought that something was definately broken and trying to mend itself as he hoisted his daughter into the crook of his arm, the kid couldn't be that heavy already.  He walked the two steps over to the bed and fell backward holding Sharyn' outward.  At the rush of motion, Sharyn's cries stopped turning instantly into that baby laugh he loved to hear so much.  In future years, Daren would think back to that and smile, knowing he had a lich and a horde of demons to thank for busting him up so badly he couldn't bear to stand to bear the weight of his own little girl for one night.  The irony of such an evil being causing him to feel so much love for his daughter would probably burn that stupid lich more than any divine fire he could ever conjure.

After playing with Sharyn' for awhile (The pain screamed at him to stop, but for some reason, he could never hear it when he was around his family), he sung a quiet song that really had no words (besides, Daren knew he couldn't sing anyways) it seemed to finally calm her down enough to rest her head on her father's chest and start the slow even breathing that signified her falling asleep.

In such a small span of time, he had killed a Balor, been imprisoned, lost the orb, escaped, thrown into Baator, escaped, thrown into some other chaotic plane of desert islands, escaped again destroyed the Lich (he hoped at least, it got harder every time), recovered his orb, and managed to hike his way home from Rilara.  As sleep overtook him (the first peacful sleep he'd had in quite awhile, but oh, what a price he paid to get it his body groaned at him as it settled to rest), he smiled.  He had told the lich that his goddess walked beside him, he believed that to be so, that's all faith ever is.  After all of this, he knew it.  And as Jil walked in to see father and daughter snoring together on the great bed, Daren knew there would be light at the end of the tunnel.

[darkwulf365]

Daren sat at the desk Jil had got him so many years ago, a large book stood open before him as he squinted trying to puzzle something out of it.  It was a book of nothing but words.  He knew all books are made up of words, but a book containing just words and their meanings, such a wonderous thing.  Daren wished somebody would've pointed it out to him sooner, it would've made things a lot easier.  

A stack of blank parchments sat beside it along with several quills and vials of ink.  Daren got the idea in his head some time ago that he should maybe write a book.  A worker at the Great Library pointed out to him that all the books there were old.  He thought that was quite absurd really, that nobody wrote anything new.  Just the fact that all those undocumented thoughts out there weren't being put down to share with others almost infuriated him.  It was easier to pick up a book then to try and read somebody's mind, or hunt them down to talk to them.  Most times the person you needed information from was hiding in some remote place, or drunk, or in trouble with the local non friendly humanoid populace.  If they'd just write a book and send it to him, it'd save a lot of travel time, and the lives of assorted giants, orcs, and kobolds.

He had come a long way with his reading and writing since he had started learning.  If he could be allowed to focus, his reading was actually quite good (his writing left a lot to be desired, but now he had his word-book), but his mind drifted far too easily, most times he just sat there skimming.  Sharyn' was sitting on the floor, playing in her little girl way.  Daren was watching her with a loving smile.  She had just turned three and was growing like mad.  She had to be the smartest child he had ever seen, although his opinion was a bit biased.  Smart yes, and also overly curious.  One time she had managed to get herself into the chest of potions without notice from him or Jil.  Managing to work the stopper off and she happened to swallow a bit.  Hearing a loud shriek Daren and his wife bolted toward the kitchen where they saw their daughter sitting in the open chest covered with tree bark and crying with a grimace on her face in fear, or maybe it was because of the taste (they really didn't taste good at all, like drinking liquid dirt), that ended up being a very long night just waiting for the magical effects to wear off, and for poor Sharyn' to calm down.  He laughed quietly at that memory, a smile of rememberance on his face as he turned back to his book of words.

Flipping through some more pages he sighed and again his eyes drifted toward Sharyn'.  Now she was petting the bearskin rug, talking to it in a broken mix of what Daren recognized as Common, and something else, maybe elvish, maybe just baby talk still.  He wasn't sure, and kept forgetting to ask Jil about it.  He quickly wondered if it was ok that his daughter talked to a dead bear.  It really was sort of a morbid concept, but Sharyn' was an only child, she had to talk to somebody he guessed.

As he watched her talking and petting (at one point standing up to point a finger at the bear, scolding it, looking so much like her mother he couldn't help but smile).  Three years old already, and he could still remember the day she was born like it was yesterday.  With a sigh he realized that he really didn't know his daughter that well.  He had fought demons, liches, countless other undead and even taken on a few regiments of Blood's army a couple of times.  He knew them just about as well as he did the little girl in front of him.  He admitted they did spend time together, and he relished every minute of it, but looking back, he realized that most of that time, Sharyn' was about half asleep, or he was putting her to sleep by reading to her (if he had only one natural paternal instinct, it was getting his daughter to go to sleep).  Looking again at the stack of parchment before him, he decided that writing a book could wait until tomorrow (He had no idea that book writing was more than just a one day job, looking back on it when he was much older, the years he spent writing was well worth the effort).  He scribbled a quick note to Jil, saying that they'd be back later and laying it on the kitchen table.

He stretched and then turned to Sharyn' still playing with her imaginary (or maybe it wasn't, Daren had no idea) bear rug friend.

"Oy lil'n, where'd yer mom put yer shoes?" He said to Sharyn'

"Shoes?" She pointed to the bedroom and then immediately turned back to her animal conversation.

"I mean, go get yer shoes silly, we're goin' out" She seemed to whisper something to the rug and then turned to Daren with a grin.  "Daddy silly"

Daren rolled his eyes and had to stifle a grin, it was hard for him to be very serious around his daughter, and usually this was just the beginning salvos of a verbal battle that could last up to an hour.  "Aye, meybe so, but go get yer shoes an'ways, an th' lil jacket yer mom made ye, might be cold outside by th' time we get back."

"Out?" Sharyn' replied.  Daren nodded in return "Aye, we're goin' out, but not till ye get ready, so go on an get 'round."  Sharyn' seemed to understand this and skipped off to the bedroom singing "Out out out out out" the entire time.  

While she was hunting for her outfit (Daren all the time waiting for her to yell to him she lost one of her shoes, he was lucky, Jil put them right beside the bed for her) he gathered a few assorted items and food, putting them in a small bag to take with them.  After she returned and he had gotten her dressed for travel and up on the horse (this was also usually another battle, thankfully this one he didn't have to fight).  They started riding through the streets of Pranzis west out of town.  Before they reached the town gate, Daren muttered a quiet prayer of sanctuary and protection.  They rode out of the city, past Dalos Lake, and the outskirts of the Forest of Mists they rode.  Sharyn' giggling at the feel of the wind in her face.  

Arriving at Corax lake they stopped.  Daren found a young sapling, and stripped a few decent branches from it.  Tying a piece of string around one end and adding a hook to them both and baiting them with some worms he had dug up, he carefully handed one to Sharyn' and started to show her the basic rudiments of fishing (which was about all he was capable of).  

And so they spent the rest of that day fishing and talking. Naming the things for her that she'd point out, listening to her repeat them, and then nodding and agreeing to whatever came out of Sharyn's mouth.  He could have sworn he picked out the word ceela several times coming from her.  Many times gaining a giggle and quite a few hugs and kisses from his daughter after he'd reply.  As the sun set he made them a small dinner of bread and some roasted bear.  He was suprised she never seemed to lose intrest in the fishing, always staring intently at the place where her line touched the water.

As the sun sank below the earth, Daren sighed and stood up, announcing it was time to go.  Sharyn' stood as well, nodding seriously, and then promptly threw her fishing pole in the water, and started back to the horse.  Daren began to say something about that, but then smiled and decided that silence would serve him best.  On the slow ride home, Sharyn' managed to fall asleep, as Daren covered her in the folds of his cloak.  She was still sleeping when they got home, and even all the way into the house.  He thought about putting her to bed, but then decided against it and just sat on the couch with her on his lap still covered, where he quickly fell asleep also.

Eventually Jil came home and gently shook him awake telling him it was time to go to bed.  He just cut his eyes toward Sharyn' and shook his head with a smile and fell asleep again on the couch, his daughter still in his arms.  He knew that the time would soon be coming when his daughter would outgrow hugs and laps, and on this day, he decided he'd better get all of them in as he could.  

[darkwulf365]

I'm gettin' too old fer this he muttered with a very quiet sigh.  He didn't know how long he had been in his cell.  His "host" didn't seem to have journeyed here with him, and had only saw fit to show himself one time. That was fine with Daren, once was definately enough.  

His whole body seemed numb from the brutal dragging that got him here and the regular beatings that followed soon after his arrival.  With a slight wonderment, he suddenly realized he couldn't see out of his left eye.  His hand, trembling slightly  with the effort, found its way to the left side of his face.  His fingertips gently brushed against the side of his face, trying to determine the extent of the damage there.  With a sharp hissing in of breath he discovered a cut running down from his forhead and angling slightly to the left.  Gently probing, he realized with a slow dawning horror that it led directly toward the eye that could no longer see.  With another wince that was actually a sigh of relief, he realized that the wound stopped just above his eyebrow.  Moving down a little further he could feel what he thought to be quite a bit of swelling and brusing there though.  That was fine really, just like the rest of him, beaten, but still hanging in there.  And he wasn't that pretty to begin with anyways.

The right side of his face, however, he didn't have to touch to know what was going on there.  He could still feel the burning from whatever that wicked priest coated his blade with.  The wound on his cheek would heal, of that he was certain, but the scar he was afraid would be with him forever.  

But all this pain, the only thing that really bothered him...he had a headache that just would not quit.  A constant rythmic pounding that seemed to come at the cusp of every thought.

Leaning wearily against the wall, resting his head back against it's cold surface, shuddering slightly at the momentary thunder that exploded in his brain and echoed down his spine, he closed his eyes.

He would heal...eventually. And then...what?  A righteous rampage of enthusiastic smiting and redemption by the blade?  That would certainly be fitting, and if it came down to it, that's what would happen.  But still...Daren's mind wandered to what exactly brought him here.

A summons from the church itself, the kidnapping and maiming of one of the younger sisters...travelling through the Anuroch to meet the lich.  Stumbling into him and his horde of drow warriors, and the simple offer the lich had extended.  Daren comes with him, the others and the young girl would be free to go.  And without a moment's hesitation, Daren accepted, not with the hope that the others would be along to rescue him, but feeling that the lives of those he cared about were much more important than his own.  An act of selfless sacrifice that at least gave others the chance to regroup and fight the battle against evil on more even terms.  

His skipped forward to his first encounter after he regained conciousness.  The guards came in, locking the door behind him, throwing a bowl of something that must pass for food down on the floor.  Saying nothing, a malicious glint in their eyes telling Daren exactly what was coming.  He took their punishments without a sound escaping him, sometimes even grinning a hard smile with an unyeilding look in his eyes.  For what must have been days it seemed to continue like this, and yet no cries or outward expression of anguish ever found it's way to their ears.  

He would get out somehow, and no matter how many times he was told that his goddess held no sway in this unholy city of the Left Hand of Black, he would never believe it.  His goddess walked beside him, lived in his heart, she was, wherever he was.  No matter how badly they hurt him, his faith and resolve was just as strong as it had ever been.

An image of Jil and Sharyn' flashed into his mind, and with that all the love he had for them filled his heart to overflowing.  He was able to manage a small albeit very painful smile.  As the memories and the smile faded, Daren was overcome with a sudden insight. Sacrifice, love, and unwavering resolution for good.  Is that not what Az'atta herself symbolized?  

Yardislan was coming, and with him was Daren's axe and possibly the beginning of a quiet war with true victors in the end.  Thinking there would be no end to this without bloodshed, Daren's heart filled with sorrow. Many of these unsuspecting people were probably going to meet their end soon, and him again unable to save any of them.  With a heavy heart, he sent this silent prayer up to Az'atta inside the vaults of his mind.

'Ello, tis me again ma'am.  T'was by yer grace and kindness I got outta this mess the last time, and if'n tis yer will, I'll be outta here again in two shakes.  But I don't really think tis yer plan for me this time.  I think this's yer way of testin' me ta see if'n I can rise up an be the person ye think I should be.  And fer that I thank ye. I won't let ye down.  But I am very sorry fer what I'm about ta do.  I'd just as soon talk my way, er sneak outta this than be fighting.  Trust me that I will try my hardest ta at least get some ta see the light, but as yer already familiar with, not very many're gonna listen.  

I would ask though, that ye watch over Jil, Yard and the others on their way down here.  I ain't trying to say I don't need yer help right now, but they're far more important than I am.  And whatever happens, I beg ye ta watch over little Sharyn'.  She's my world just as much as ye are, and I couldn't live with myself if'n anything happened ta her.  

I'll let ye go now ma'am, I done took up too much of yer time already.  Know that I still love ye, and always will, I thank ye fer everything ye ever done fer me.  And I'll do whatever it takes ta get the two of us outta here and ta squash this evil where it grows.

Tis fer yer glory and the good of all that I pray, g'nite ma'am'

And with those last thoughts following him into unconciousness, Daren slept, waiting for whatever was next to come.

[darkwulf365]

The mind is like a plant, sometimes striving with a singular purpose as a vine will climb it's way up a trellace.  Some are supple and fragile as a baby tree.  Some are as strong and unbreakable as an ancient oak.  Finally, some are constantly shrouded by a winter's chill and made dormant, just waiting for a chance to awaken and bloom.

As Daren lay sleeping in his cell, the waves of pain receeding slowly, no longer crashing heavily upon his unconcious state, the warmth of the springtime sun found it's way into the flower of his mind.  

Opening one eye that gave off a steely glint in the darkness, a plan started to blossom...

[darkwulf365]

It was what Daren thought of as nighttime, as he lay in his cell, his body still broken and tired, his weary mind trying to resist but shutting down and falling into the enchroaching darkness that passed for sleep.

Deep within the void of unconciousness his mind's eye wandered aimlessly within a dream world of hazy images and scenes.  Sometimes closer and more in focus, other times he seemed to be standing outside himself, looking inward at the fringe edge of conversations with his family and friends.  It seemed to continue like this for hours, and Daren thought it quite nice, memories of pleasant events coming to life right before his very eyes.  Battles fought and won, his wedding, his daughter's first steps, her first few words, laughter, warmth and love so close he could almost feel it.  And then, suprisingly within the jumble that seemed to tell the fables of his life, Daren saw Jil's wolf, Kreeg, standing out in a sharp contrast among the rest.

Puzzlement seemed to eminate forth from Daren's mind at this suprising turn.  Could it mean?  She was coming, or...  Were they actually here? Or...what?

The dream-Kreeg started to change before his eyes, it's fur turning from the long wild smokey grey to a short jet black sheen, a spiked collar manifesting itself from nothingness to appear around it's neck, it's eyes turning a deep fire red. Eyes glowing in the approaching darkness like twin embers of a fire long burning with no intention of ever dying.

As the dream-Daren stared on in shock, the canine opened its mouth, it's tounge lolling out in a gesture that Daren perceived to be laughter.

I'm coming for you boy...home wrecker, life breaker... a deep quiet voice eerily similar to Daren's own echoed it's way into Daren's mind. Time to reap what you've sown all those years ago.

More puzzlement, quickly changing to an abstract sort of fear as the meaning sank it's way into Daren's subconcious.  He was with them.  But for what purpose?  And what did he have planned?
 
Everything faded into darkness as a great sadness and despair overcame him.  

He managed to drag himself mostly out of his sleep, to notice that tears were running down his face.  He relaxed slightly, slowing his breathing and started to drift off again.  Some ghosts just wouldn't stay buried no matter what.  And when they arose, you could either put them down again, or cut them loose to let them wander.  

As he let the sleep claim him, he knew now what had to be done.

[darkwulf365]

"Thank ye ma'am, I will always remember and treasure this gift, and your grace which made this moment happen."  Daren turned his face upward where the cold desert air of the Anuroch could touch his face.  Taking in a deep breath, mercifully free of sand, he closed his eyes in a moment that seemed to linger forever, taking in the sweet taste of freedom from the endless dark.

His eyes opened to the faces of those who had rescued him.  People who had really nothing to gain and quite a bit to lose.  His eyes settled upon Jil.  He could feel the corners of his eyes growing moist as he looked upon her for the first time in what must have been months, and sent another silent "Thank you" up to Az'atta.

He saw a shape walking off into the darkness, walking a walk that was eerily similar to his own.  The happieness of freedom was dulled by the realization that this was his own brother.  Throughout their lives they had never seen eye to eye on anytyhing, but they were always brothers.  Although no words had been exchanged, not even a glance, Daren knew that this was no longer the case.  His heart wrenched inside of himself as he watched one of the last remaining parts of his family slink off to whatever hole people like Jeran were prone to slink toward.

After they had finally arrived home that night, Daren could hold it in no longer.  All the sadness, the pain, the fear of never seeing the ones he loved most ever again in life all let out at once.

He wept in Jil's arms for what must have been hours, and clutched onto her the entire night while they slept.

And then it all began again...

Dashing off to Halman’s Brook, deep into a long forgotten crypt.  Winding up inside the tower of Thomas the sane half of the lich Arceteron.  Dashing off first to the desert, and then into Karthy in a mad search for Thomas’s lost love of almost 200 years ago.  Back into the tower to deliver the news to Thomas and then an insane (even in Daren’s slightly skewed view of such things concerning numbers, odds, and attacks upon fortified positions) assault upon Friedhal Fortress for the final reagent in a ritual that would bind Arceteron and Thomas together allowing for the permanent banishment of the lich.

Months and months of memories flooding back upon him in the span of seconds.  No more then the span of 3 heartbeats before the reality of now washed back upon him.

Wizards standing in some sort of ritual magic brain rotting pentagram thing.  Many of his friends laying dead or dying quickly at the hands of Arceteron’s minions.  Daren himself already fallen once.  Arceteron himself marching down the hallway toward them, trying to reach the magic circle before the incantations could be finished.

Calling upon what few prayers of strength and fortification he had left, drawing his weapon and facing Arceteron head on.  Shouting at Storold, Ozy, or somebody to start casting, countering, breaching or just plain do something.  

And then it was over...

He had survived...scarred, afraid, but still here.

Daren exhaled with an infinite sadness as Thomas’s body lay lifeless.  Along with the innocents of Halman’s Brook, another sacrifice that should not have been, but made anyways.  For Daren, it was a victory tinged with a deep sadness and regret.

Walking home deep in thought, later on that night lying silently in bed with Jil in his arms.  Daren was finally able to breathe a sigh of relief, the nightmare was finished, and for now his family was safe.

[darkwulf365]

Life continued on for Daren, as life is often found to do.  No parades were held upon his return, no commendations were issued, and nobody looked at him any differently then they always had.  The years rolled by, and with the implacable turn of the seasons, Daren attempted to discover a peaceful niche in which he could live out the years.  

Thirty seven years old now, and Az'atta knew, mostly through mutterings that were not prayers that he often felt every year of it.  The gray in his hair now more pronounced then he would like.  The thought of putting on his armor, or even picking up his axe made him groan inwardly at their weight.  His right shoulder still ached on rainy days as if all the devils in the world lived in that one joint.  The Soul Mother had visited him far too many times for comfort  The running around the world searching, and adventuring had almost come to an end it felt like.  The appeal of the fireplace and a good book was growing upon him.  He still didn't have the patience to actually finish anything he attempted to read, but many rainy days were passed in front of that fireplace, just spent in idle, and relatively safe, comfort.  However nice this post-adventuring life may seem, Daren did have to admit, it just wasn't him. So as the years passed, he became, what his wife termed, a grump.

He was able to watch his daughter grow before his eyes however, and that was worth all the months of stir craziness.  He could remember her first steps, her first words.  He saw her here in front of him now, thirteen years old and the label of "child" fitting her as well as her first set of sleepclothes.  Her first hunt went off much better then Daren would've expected, she was quite skilled for one so young.  She was definately her mother's daughter in that respect.  Daren could see how she would grow to be something far greater then he ever hoped to be, and that thought filled him with happieness.

Unfortunately, Sharyn' was also...blessed...with her father's attitude, which on the best of days could be described as, blunt.  Outspoken, opinionated and forthright also were fair descriptions.  More often then not, confrontational, irritable and crabby were far more accurate.  This is not to say that the Valhaikor household was a troubled one, or that Sharyn' and Daren did not love each other.  In fact it was quite the opposite their way of expressing an affection so deep that words have yet to be invented to describe it, was unconventional to say the least.  

Daren was not a scholar of the human condition, and his skills at diplomacy were feeble to say the least.  So having a teenage daughter who was quite eloquent for her age was quite a different experience to him.  And by his reckoning, this was Sharyn's first time at having a father, so he expected some bumps along their journey of life together.  What he got, was something he guessed a chicken would feel if it found out the egg in it's roost was really a dragon just wating to hatch.  

And it all started with a simple book on a rainy day.

Daren walked in from the kitchen to see his daughter, sitting like he often did, a book on her lap in front of her.

"What ye readin' there lil'n?" He asked, taking the last swallows from a bottle of grape juice.

"A book father." She replied, frowning, trying to keep her concentration.  Daren thought she looked so much like her mother right then.  It should've served him as a premonition of things to come.

"I c'n see that, a book 'bout what?" He replied, with all of his usual charm and grace.

She sighed dramatically, almost overmuch, and thinking back, Daren realized he was being carefully manipulated at this point, and would be for quite some time.  The thought didn't bother him too much, as they would both come to discover, he always gave back as good as he got.  "A book on tactics, written by Hradgaer Thunderblood, battle priest of Vorax.  It's quite interesting, especially the chapters on forest warfare.  I think I'll try some of these next time I go hunting with mother."

His eyebrows immediately went up although he suprised himself and was able to keep his voice calm...for a little bit at least.  "C'n I 'ave a look if'n ye dun't mind?"  She handed him the book, and if he'd noticed, he would've seen the slight smirk on his daughter's face.  His lips moved as he traced his way through a few passages, growing increasingly irritated at what he read.  "Whate'er possesed ye ta bring such..." He trailed off, reading a bit more.  "This's jus'...I cain't..." He started to bluster, his face began to turn slightly red, and a frown appeared.  He closed the book with a snap and looked his daughter straight in the eye "Ye know this thing ain't nothin' but trash aye?  Damn Vorax shorty prolly ne'er left th' temple in 'is life." He handed the book back to her, muttering something about a child of his reading such idiocity, and the state of the world in general.

Before he could safely escape, she stopped him with the murderously perfect question coupled with the perfect look of childhood innocence "But what do you mean father? It's all right here, he goes on to state..." She reopened the book and pointed out a passage to him.

"What'd ye mean, what'd I mean?" He almost roared, and later on, he would admit, roaring did feel good.  "Ain't no honor in battle, tis only fer life an...Fightin' ain't th' ferst answe...An 'eres 'nother thang..." He stopped using words that are proper for use in front of children at that point, and began a expansive lecture detailing many of his past exploits, and a rather stirring (if slightly, uncomplimentary) commentary on the Voraxite church that any Battlepriest would infinitely fascinating.  

For hours this continued, Daren growing ever more agitated. Sharyn' countering his arguments with passages out of the book.  Daren drawing upon his years of learning the teachings of Az'atta, and all the wisdom he has obtained during his life, both the joys and the sorrows.  It ended with him red faced and breathing hard, his daughter looking cooliy at him, and just proclaiming "Fine, I still like the dwarf's version better." Before making a grand escape into her bedroom.  Daren was at a total loss for words, looking about the house for something that needed breaking, and finding his old suit of armor, bundled up in a closet in dire need of repair.  Snatching it up, along with some tools, and managing to slam every door he could in the house without breaking anything, he went to the smithy to vent some frustration.

Coming back at nearly nightfall, sweating and slightly burned from the heat of the forge, Daren stomped into the house ready to continue the discussion with his daughter, only to find her putting the finishing touches on a kingly dinner.  Greeting him with a kiss on the cheek and a quick hug,  She flashed him a quirky half smile that was a mirror image of an expression only few had ever seen from him and simply saying, "The suit looks good Dad, go wash up, dinner's almost done.  And I love you too."

Daren stood there for moments that seemed like minutes before the realization hit him.  He sighed wearily, then smiled with such a joy, that would light up a room.  And in that way, the foundation for the relationship between father and daughter was begun.

It should be said, they tried very hard, for the sake of Jil's nerves to modulate their voices whenever she was around.  In every kiss goodnight, they both hoped that she wouldn't see the smirks and the steely glints in their eyes that were the forshadow of the next argument of their love.

This was a high point in Daren's life, and he felt more alive now then he had in months.  Then why was he afraid of something large, dark, and hidden, looming on the horizon, just waiting to engulf him?