A Story Long Ago

From Reydala

This is the story of one man's death.

There was once a boy thought born to be elven blood. He knew otherwise, however. It was not pure blood that flowed in his veins, rather a mixture of both elf and devil. A tiefling with lineage thought to trace back to one of the seven archdevils. This boy knew how different he was from those around him, and knew how possible it was to achieve more then a mediocre life. Before he even entered his teens, the boy had started to train to serve among the ranks of the Haldian Knights.

As he grew older, he grew more devout. It was through strength that order would be found, so all that had to be done was gain more power. From there, control and stability would follow. The boy trained himself by every means necessary to get more powerful, absorbing any and all knowledge he could find. Those from his hometown shunned the boy for his beliefs, but his will was unshakable. He grew into a powerful cleric, and for his patience and faith he found himself rewarded.

In his later teenage years, the boy was witness to Hald's Crusade. Lands were ravaged, lives were lost, and the balance of power among both gods and mortals shifted daily. The boy simply laughed as he stood in the flames that were once his village, eager to join those who would faithfully follow the will of Hald – the one who followed will of this world.

Yet despite all his gains, the boy also experienced the ultimate loss. As quickly as it had started, the crusade had been stopped. The world had rejected Hald's order, and instead embraced the chaos that filled the void left by Hald's departure.

Everything the young man had believed in had turned out to be a lie. Those who he had joined for the crusade were crumbling apart. With the absence of the powerful figure of Hald, the remnants of the crusade could not keep itself together. Everything about the world, everything about order, everything that the young man believed was false. His faith was gone, his belief in his lord Hald was shattered. The world rejected its path to order and sanity, so the young man rejected the world. He left what few companions he had, murdering any of them who would try and stop him.

He left with no goal, with no destination, and barely any purpose for his existence. He only continued to live with only the small hope to some day find a single answer. He only wanted to know why the world rejected what would have been its salvation.

For years he aimlessly traveled. When he would run into hostilities, he slaughtered whatever stood before him. Having abandoned his god, the man did not know where his power had been coming from, but he also did not care. What he did was natural to him, he did not think about it, he just traveled the world, over and over.

For two decades the dead shell of a man moved from place to place...

He found himself in an eatery in Walstad as evening began to fall. The area was still in the middle of recovering from the disaster of twenty years prior. The man sat by himself at a table in the corner. He wore dark robes and carried a staff, fitting for a figure that traveled without purpose. The rest of the occupants left him alone, be it families, adventurers, merchants, or anyone else from any walk of life. Then, the doors burst open and an unusual occupant walked in.

This half elven man walked in quietly, closed the door behind him, then began to utter words that were clearly for a magical spell. Immediately all entrances and exits to the building were sealed by a dark purple force.

The half elf smiled. “Alright, I'll be taking everything you've got. If you don't cooperate...”

Within this half elf's hand shined a bright light. As one man reached for his sword, this hand was opened in his direction. A pillar of flame covered the swordsman, ending his life quickly. The former cleric watched this from his corner. He made no move, he had nothing to fear. He had died twenty years ago, after all.

“That is the power of the dark witch Laviege. If you want a chance at making it out of here, better give up all of your possessions... NOW.”

People started to move, taking out sacks of coin and remove whatever valuables were on their person. A few children began to cry and a nervous panic covered the room. The half elven man began to walk to the nearest table, a bag ready to hold what treasures people would forfeit. However, before he got there, laughter burst from the corner that the tiefling sat at. It was not humorous, nor was it panicked or fearful. Rather, it was a sound that brought even more fright into the tense room.

“What the hell are you laughing about!”

“You? A follower of the Witch?!”

The half elven man drew a dagger out and marched towards the former cleric. “What of it? Mistress Laviege gives her followers the power to control. Look at the obedience of this room, all because of a simple display.”

Still, the devil laughed. “My goodness, you think to use power to control people! How... how delightfully hilarious. How impossibly pointless. How dreadfully fruitless! Hahahahaha!”

“The hell is wrong with you!? Shut up or I will kill you.”

“It all makes sense. What a waste this time's been...” The robed man stood up and grabbed his staff. “For fifteen years I've been looking for my answer, and to think it was so fucking simple! Heheheheheh... I should be thanking you.”

“D-Don't move!” The half elf opened his palm towards the laughing man, ready to attack. However he was too slow.

A single tap of the staff on the ground and the entire room distorted. Sturdy chains burst through the floor, ceiling, and walls. Not a single person was safe from the sheer number of them. Those who were lucky were impaled and died instantly, their bodies strung up by the chains. Those unlucky had their entire bodies crushed or suffocated. Only two people were left alive in the room after the attacks. One was the devil of a man, who laughed madly at the blood pooling on the floor. The other was the half elf, who was hanging; bound by his neck and limbs.

The would be robber struggled, but no matter what could not break the chains that bound him. “S-stop it!”

“So clear. It's so fucking clear! It was just the inverse! I guess faith does make people blind, after all. I refused to accept that the will of the world was anything other then what I had wanted it to be. But it's just the exact fucking opposite!”

“What are you talking about!? LET ME GO!”

“You see, the will of the world isn't to strive for order, that's not the proper use of power at all! Now think about it. You're a cultist, you should understand. What do you think that power should be used for!”

The half elf did not answer; rather he struggled with a further justified panic.

“That's exactly right! The world asks that those with power push it closer and closer into chaos! That's why Hald's crusade was crushed. The world didn't want a ruler, it just wanted the madness and terror that would be caused by such a battle!”

“Who the hell are you!?”

“Manners manners, boy.” The devil had a calm grin on his face, as though he was talking to an old friend. “It's always polite to introduce yourself fir-”

“Ralaene Taveon! That's my name! Let me go!”

“And I am a simple holy man. One who works the will of this world by serving the gods. Somewhere over the past two decades of looking for an answer in front of my face, I lost my name. I should have lost my talents as well, but as I said, I serve all the gods. I guess for all these years it was the Dark Witch who had aided me... But it's Ralaene, you say?”

The man moved his staff and pointed it at Ralaene. Radiant energy crackled right above the staff and formed into the shape of a violet spear, level with the half elf’s eyes. “That's a good name. I think I'll be using it from now on.”

The last sight witnessed by Ralaene Taveon was the man who would forever more be known by his own name. The man laughed insanely as he plunged a spear of energy through Ralaene’s head.