Of the man who grew into a boy.

[Kendricke]

Forward: I've been asked to post the complete tale of the origins of Lord Kendricke within this Hall. I certainly hope that this brings some small amount of pleasure to those that read it.

 

Regardless, here it is, reprinted from its original telling within the Stage area of the Tavern of the Morning Rose (www.legion-whiterose.com). I give to you the first installmant of the story of my character's beginnings.

[Kendricke]

Lord Kendricke stands and strides toward the stage, flanked by a Dominion of towering stature. Conversations die out, and laughter stops as all eyes focus now on the young boy that commands the Legion of the White Rose. As he steps toward the small stage in the corner, the minstrels upon it bow deeply and leave. The lad looks out warmly upon those gathered, and a smile sets upon his lips as he speaks:

 

My Lords and Ladies,

 

Allow me to share.

 

Allow me to share with you some personal insight into the youth that you see before you. Though I may look as though merely a boy, I can assure you that is not the case.

 

Years ago - lifetimes it seems, I had grown weary of life. I had grown ever-so weary of my duties as a Knight in the employ of my Lord, whose name is now lost to me for lack of importance. I was a powerful Knight for my Lord, and called "Hero" for my services to my kingdom.

 

Kendricke hunted the "Tribes of the Wind",

those Angels who dwelled in the mountains of yore.

T'was he who enslaved them, and cut of their wings,

that no one who saw them could hope to adore.

 

I grew old and fat on the blood of their Tribe, and my Lord rewarded me well! I was given rank and title, with lands and troops - all in reward for my routing the winged ones.

 

As my Lord's lands grew, so did my fame. It was whispered throughout the kingdom that I would be chosen to succeed our ailing King, instead of his own son. These rumors, you could guess, did not set well with the Prince at that time, and his jealousy seethed over my accomplishments.

 

My name was feared throughout the skies and the Winged Ones knew to run from my flag - that of the Black Rose of Death! Kendricke the Dark-Hearted, they called me - ever afraid to fight back against my Legions. I was death come for them, all for the jealousy of my king. I was their end, because he could not permit any to fly, if he could not.

 

Raid after raid, and battle after battle. Works of art were commissioned in my likeness. Dances and galas were held in my Honour. Children played Knights vs. Angels, with all the young boys fighting to play as Kendricke.

 

I tired of it, and simply wished to return to my farm. I did not relish this life of killing without purpose, but I was duty bound to my king. With every village slaughtered in his name, his faith in me grew. With every pair of wings ripped from a child-angel's back, I was buying his favour with the blood of these beings.

 

His name struck fear amounst the hosts,

his sword was caked with the blood of ghosts.

These gentle angels, lost to fate,

because of Kendricke, Knight of Hate.

 

 

Twas after one such raid, when my army was journeying home that it happened. So quickly that I was unaware of what was actually happening till it was too late. It was near dusk, and we had only a half-hour or so till we camped. One of my captains noticed that the stars ahead were particularly bright. He pointed out that they were beginning to shine even brighter. As I looked, I noticed that the sky seemed to be growing brighter ahead, as if the dawn were approaching. I thought of how odd this was, when the suddenly all was white!

 

When I was able to open my eyes, I looked around to see that my men were being slaughtered around me. Everywhere I looked, they were simply being thrown and rent. Stars of light were falling upon us, as if the heavens had opened up and begun to rain white death.

 

Still unable to even comprehend what was happening, I tried to look up. The brilliance of the light was so intense that I feared I was going blind. That's when I saw them - the most terribly beautiful angels I had ever laid eyes upon. Though their bodies were no different from any other angel I had yet seen, their wings were awe-inspiring in their span. Each of them seemed to simply "float" above us, with wings that moved so slowly and full of grace that they seemed to be as the tail of a contented cat.

 

I watched one in particular, who clasped his hands together in front of himself, and then began to chant. Within moments, his fists glowed with a light so furious that I could not watch without squinting. I watched on with a childlike gaze, as the angel released this light, which shot as a comet to a grouping of archers below. It exploded, and my men were tossed asunder.

 

This was it! I had heard the angels talk of their protectors. They would weep, or curse, or simply stand there as we would rip their wings them with ropes tied to horses, or by tying them to racks we had built for the purpose. I would here them cry out to these "Gods" of the winged ones.

 

These were the Dominion.

 

I looked upon the battle with a new realization. Legions and legions of these "Angels-of-Death" were slaughtering my men, swift as the wind itself and twice as unforgiving. Horses were killed. Men were mortally wounded and left to die, bowels and limbs hanging from their broken forms.

 

I charged into battle, and began shouting commands. I fought as a demon - a frenzied berserker. I grabbed a crossbow, covered in gore, from the hands of a boy, who's head was half gone. Below me, my steed fell, and I was thrown to the ground. Without looking to see, I fired into the sky. I stood and became more beast than man. I screamed out my fury and dared these gods to come get me.

 

The first one went down, impaled by my blade. As I struggled to free my sword from his chest, I saw the light. Instinct took over, and I leaped to the ground. The blast carried me up as my ears sizzled. All went black...

 

I awoke to a hell I was not prepared for. Everywhere about me, there was only death. Swarms of crows and vultures fought over choice pieces of the men and boys I'd lead to their graves. The Dominion had left no survivors save myself. I was left living, though broken and bleeding. No supplies had been spared, and was days from my home. Without anything to do, I walked around in shock.

 

Shedding my Armor I began the long journey. I travelled for weeks through the hostile lands of my Lord's kingdom. I hid from flights of Angels which now flew through the skies, and I foraged for grubs in the dirt left below. For weeks this went on - hiding, foraging, always trudging on to the east - on towards the castle of my Lord and King...

[Wyvern]

A very good story Lord Kendricke, I must have overlooked it when you previously posted it in the Tavern of the Morning Rose. A well crafted tale, made better with a very good usage of the first person perspective and some very striking images (I thought the horrific battles, in particular, had quite a few). I also really liked the way you incorporated the poems in the midst of the story, they fit quite well. I could definitely see this story being expanded, as the reader is left wondering what will become of the good Lord once he reaches the castle of his King...

 

On a side note, for future reference: people usually post stories and poems previously written on seperate boards in the 'Library' section of the guild for archiving, as to not clutter up the more recent works. No big problem, of course, but just remember it for the next time you feel like archiving an older work.

 

Glad to see you contributing your talents to these boards.

 

 

------------------------------

Almost a Dragon...

"My life is one big crime, I try to scheme through it." -Common, "The 6th Sense"

 

Owner of the Decanter of Endless Booze.

Edited by: Wyvern00  at: 6/28/02 8:08:11 pm

[Kendricke]

The boy Guildmaster seems to be most distant as he speaks. His face contorts in pain throughout his story. He did not even seem to realize that he had just allowed his voice to trail off.

 

Behind him, his mighty protector, the Dominion companion which always seemed to be at his side, cleared his throught gently, and placed his massive hand upon the tiny shoulder of the young Guildmaster.

 

At this, Kendricke stirred, and smiled. He continued:

 

 

Finally I arrived home, though it pained me to lay eyes upon it. Great, gaping holes now littered the grand walls of my king's castle, and bodies lay everywhere. My heart skipped a beat as I approached, and I called out to the dead that I recognized! I yelled and wailed for those that I knew.

 

As if in answer to my prayer, a shout was returned. It had come from within the now blackened castle. I ran toward the voices and was let in the shattered gates, by some guardsmen that I recognized as being from my army. I smiled broadly as the realization set in that I was NOT the only survivor. I began to exclaim as much, when I was grabbed and thrown to the ground. The guards began kicking me and hitting me with the blunt end of their polearms. In this way was I beaten, by the very men I once commanded!

 

After some time of this, I was brought to the throne room and faced with surprise! The Prince now sat upon the throne.

 

"He smiled as he read to him each of his "crimes",

then declared him an outcast and traitor.

The King, it seems, had died in the attacks,

and Sir Kendricke was no longer in fav[/i]

 

I was thrown in the prison, in the dungeons below, and held there for time best forgotten. Suffice it to say, that my hair turned to gray, and the light in my mind was the brightest to find. I do not know how long I was kept, nor how old I'd become. I only knew the confines of this prison of stone, and the squeaking of rats and vermin.

 

Several years passed in this way. Sometimes, I would be forgotten for days on end, and my meals would be neglected. Other days, the prince (always looking years older than when last I saw him) would order me tortured and would come to watch for his own amusement.

 

One day, in the morning, the door came apart! Before me, a fully armed Angel was there in its stead. He spoke to me in a singing voice I could barely make out, and said that I was now free from the tyranny of men. With these words, he ripped my chains from the wall, and then sped through the door and out of my sight.

 

I could hear the sounds of attack, till late in the night, as I sat in my cell dumbfounded. Shrieks of men, and the clash of swords. Occasionally a sizzle and explosion. When I was sure that the battle had ended, I crawled out into the Hall.

 

Blood.

 

It was everywhere. It was smeared on the walls, and dripped from the ceiling into pools on the floor. I wretched! Its acrid smell saturated me. It hung in the air so thick I could taste it! Wretching again, I attempted to walk - my chains catching on the dead arms of men. Somehow, I sloshed throught the hall to the stairs, and slipped on the steps leading up.

 

Finally I reached the doors leading out, or rather that which was left of them. I stepped through the splinters that once held me in, and stepped out into the night. I shielded my eyes from the moon's harsh beams - daggers against my sight!

 

All around me - the smell of decay. The overripe stench of rot. Its sickly sweet oder assaulted my nose. Instinctively, I pulled my hands to my face, and stopped in utter revulsion! My hands dripped blood - sticky and dark, like some twisted syrup. Indeed, in the darkness, it looked almost...

 

I ran! My chains flung about wildly and my heart beat as if it would race me. I let the madness consume me and I ran for the gate. The west - the west! I ran to the west! I ran to the west for hours before the darkness reclaimed me.

 

When I awoke, it was to the overpowering brilliance of the sun. I looked at its dawning over the remains of the castle. Even now, it still looked black. I lay there, staring, into the sun. I looked till my eyes grew comfortable. The colors that shifted before me swirled in circles and eddies, as if the light was a river to swim in.

 

I drifted in and out of consciousness a great deal that day, and through the days that followed. I lay there, with none by my misery for comfort, and the squawking of crows that dined on the dead. I was waiting to die - and why not? Wasn't this proper? Wasn't this justice? We killed the Angels for jealousy of their wings, and now they killed us.

 

I watched the blackbirds and laughed at the thought that men had completed the circle. Where once we killed birds for food, they now feasted on us.

 

Wings and circles. Circles and wings.

 

I knew that my time was near when I saw the crows circling.

 

Circles and Wings. Wings and Circles.

 

They flew by my face, and cautiously pecked at my hands.

 

Wings. Circles.

 

I waved them off...for now. I wanted to die, but not without thinking. I'd much more to torture my self with before they could peck out my eyes. No...I would not succumb to their caws...not today...

[Kendricke]

The young Guildmaster takes a moment to compose himself again. His face contorts in physical pain. The Dominion at his side looks concerned, and places his massive hand upon the tiny shoulders of Lord Kendricke. The lad begins again...

 

Two of the crows were now circling each other, instead of me. I watched for some time with interest as they flew is tight circles high overhead. I continued to watch in a daze as they pecked at each other, and only when one fell to the earth did I realize that they were not crows at all!

 

I turned my head sideways to where the "bird" fell and was shocked to find that it was a wounded Dominion! An angel with rank - the highest of the on-high...was laying here now on the ground a few feet from myself.

 

I laughed. Almost inaudible at first, my laugh grew. First a slight giggle. Then a chuckle. Before I knew it, I was laughing the tears from my eyes.

 

The irony of it! The sheer IRONY! I had lain here for days, waiting for a sign from the Gods, and here it dropped, almost in my lap! Still laughing, I stood. At least, I tried to. My days of despondancy had weakened me significantly.

 

I called out to the angel, first with mocking, half-mad tones, and then with anger and rage. My life had been ruined by these creatures. I thought back on the acts of violence these beings had been capable of, and shuddered again at the thought of the pools of warm, sticky blood I had slipped in merely nights ago. My body pathetically tried to spasm and heave with physical illness, but there was nothing left to expel. I was wasting away beneath the sun, more broken than whole...just as the Dominion was.

 

Then I looked at him. I looked at his face. I watched his pain. I watched his suffering. His eyes were still closed, and his features obscured by blood and grime, but I could recognize his expression without trouble at all. Though he was lying on this forsaken ground, bloodied and broken, that was not his true pain I realized. Like me, his pride had been shattered like a mirror upon a stone. Like a mirror, I was looking at myself upon the ground and my contempt turned to pity...pity turned to sympathy...sympathy turned to concern.

 

The Gods had shown me a sign, and I would not ignore it. I must help the creature, but to do that, I knew I would have to help myself. I knew the Dominon's very ego had been destroyed by whatever fight it had just lost. Used to soaring amongst the heavens, this warrior was now a groundwalker, like the rest of us. It was an expression I had seen time after time as I looked into the eyes of the seraphim I had stripped of their own wings. For the first time, however, I was no longer bemused by the look.

 

The Knight of Death lay broken now,

The blood of men upon his brow,

Look now did he upon the beast,

and realized his rage had ceased.

 

Kendricke stood and nobly decreed,

that this God-sent sign he'd surely heed.

He looked upon the angel then,

and realized he must save him.

 

Drawing upon my long lost instincts, I steadied my breathing and lay still again. I waited for the peck-peck-peck from my little winged friends. When it finally came, I snatched at it, and to my suprise, found that it had worked! I quickly killed the bird, and started the circle anew! I ripped at its feathers, and ate it raw. My mind was now thinking with a clarity I hadn't had in years. I was more lucid than I could remember ever being, and I knew now what I had to do.

 

With my newfound energy, I made my way back to the castle, ignoring the death and decay that abounded. I made my way for the kitchens and then to the surgeon's. When I found what I had sought, I hurried back to the downed angel.

 

He was badly hurt - from the fight AND the fall. He was not yet conscious when I began to dress his wounds. I bandaged and cleaned him, and gave him new garments. I made several trips to the ruins of the city for bedding and clothes.

 

When finally he did awaken, several days had passed. He seemed suprisingly calm - at least he did to me. I tried to imagine his thoughts at that moment - waking up in the dark, next to an old wild man and his campfire. I suppose I must have looked slightly mad. After all, I'd not shaven or groomed since the beginning of my imprisonment.

 

I noticed his stirrings, but kept at my stew, refusing to show that I had noticed him. I had no desire to startle this great warrior, and I waited for him to acknowledge me first. I watched from the corner of my eye as he curiously checked his dressings and clothes. He looked around - I assume for his armor and weapon (which I had left next to him for when he awoke). I noticed him watching me for quite some time, and then finally he spoke.

 

His words were...light. I do not know the best way to describe it to those who've not heard it, but the winged ones do not speak so much as...sing? There's an ethereal quality - both soothing and frightning, that gives the angels a command over their speech.

 

He asked me my name, that he could thank me by it. I told him, and then I waited to see if he'd heard of me. The look in his face said he had. I watched as his eyes darted to his polearm and then back to me - some old man stirring a pot of crow stew.

 

Several minutes passed, wordless, as I tended to the evening meal, and he kept his gaze upon me. I considered it a test of the Gods. Either the Dominion would strike me down, or he would not. There was no doubt that even weakened, he could kill me easily. I certainly was not the warrior I had once been, nor was I in a position to handle an armed Dominion in single combat.

 

As should be most obvious, he did not kill me...but instead shared his own name with me. Rather, he tried to. He translated it for me, to speech I could pronounce. He explained that his name meant "The gentle wind before summer storms which smell as if the rains will come". I thanked him for this Honour and offered him food.

 

I watched as the tribesman took heapings of it the stew, practically inhaling his food. Yet, though wounded and obviously famished, the angel would not finish his bowl till he had made sure I had eaten my own fill.

 

When I awoke the next morning, my new friend was now gone. Nothing remained of his stay, save for his empty bowl upon the ground, and a single white feather left where he had lain.

 

I now felt as though I had a purpose. I packed up the small camp and gently wound the feather to a lock of my own hair, which I placed within a small satchel I had found. I then took one last look upon the city which had owned my life for so long and vowed to never willingly lay eyes upon it again.

 

I knew now what I must do, and yet had no idea how to go about doing this. All I knew was that the answer was to the west...