A cold darkness now surrounded Darkmane and strange noises came from all directions of the forest, a symphony of nocturnal wildlife. Since waking up this morning, he felt something was wrong, his mind had been racing, unable to to focus on one thing for more than a few minutes. A vague recollection of packing his things and leaving the city, sunset seemed like a distant memory, mixed into the soup of his thoughts.
The scream of a fox snaps Darkmane back to reality.
The forest road was unfamiliar and the soft glow of Drokburg had vanished from sight. How far had he walked? In this brief moment of clarity, weariness took its opportunity to sink in and Darkmane found himself barely able to move. "I need to rest," he thought, sliding himself down against a tree, barely touching the ground before sinking into blackness.
"Valentis!" A beautiful young woman stands in a green field, a small farmhouse behind her. "Valentis!" She calls out, the sun bathing her lightly tanned skin. A young boy, no more than 8, runs out from the tree line towards the woman, his face beaming. He giggles as she catches him and spins on the spot, his legs gliding through the air. "Now where have you been?" Her voice is warm and soothing, with a soft accent. This beautiful, watercolour moment suddenly comes crashing down as riders approach from the road towards the farm. "Andru!" She shouts running towards the house, but the riders are too fast and she is struck down with a club. The young boy can see a man appear in the doorway moments before a bolt hits him in the chest, Valentis screams as a black-clad arm scoops him up. Through tears, he can make out his mother crawling towards her husband as the farm disappears into the distance.
In a foul smelling, Port Blacksand tannery, a 12 year old Valentis goes about his duties. Life here is hard, with work running from dawn to dusk and the knowledge that no one is your friend. "Come here boy!" Shouts a rough looking man, dressed in a black leather armour that had seen better days. Valentis walk over, knowing to stay silent and keep his eyes on the ground. "It´s time to begin your training lad. Gonna learn to earn your keep". He leads the skinny boy, dressed in ragged clothing, down below the tannery to the headquarters of Blacksand´s Assassin´s Guild. 'The Brotherhood of the Knife' serviced many of the city´s wealthy and influential people, including it´s tyrannical ruler Lord Varek Azzur, who often sent a lot of work their way. This was to be Valentis´family, his home, his entire life for the next 26 years, until something happened that would change his world forever.
Off the hall of the merchant´s fancy town-house, Valentis hid behind a curtain, one of many small alcoves lining the marbled hall. An hour passes, maybe two, when Valentis hears footsteps on the marble approaching him. He peeks through, hand sliding down to his dagger, when suddenly a young girl runs from one of the side rooms, whom the merchant scoops up in his arms. Valentis watches them spin and play and suddenly it´s not them but him in the arms of his mother. Lush green fields and laughter, as he is spun in circles by a lady with flowing black hair. The memory fades and the merchant disappears down the hall with his daughter. For the first time in his life, the life-long assassin can´t do it, he leaves the house via the rooftop and off into the night. Valentis heads to an Inn on the other side of town, there´s no going back to the Brotherhood now, he will have to lay low.
A few days pass, everything is prepared, he has passage booked on a ship leaving the city just before dawn. Valentis lays back on his pillow, one last night, and slowly drifts off to sleep. There´s a creak and in a split second from waking, Valentis´dagger finds the heart of an assassin sent to kill him. It was Sam, someone he had grown up with in the tannery and trained with at the Brotherhood. Sam stares at him, shocked and confused before crumpling to the ground. An unexpected tear rolls down Valentis´cheek, there´s more noise in the hall, he didn´t come alone. Making his way through the window, Valentis drops down into a small yard and runs off into the misty night. “There´s bound to be a few small boats tied up along river,” he thinks, turning into a small alley and up a flight of steps onto the street above. “There it is, almost made it,” there´s a sharp pain as a crossbow bolt sinks into his back.
Valentis lay there close to death and oblivious to the cloaked figure that approached and began to drag him off the street. “It´s not time for you yet,” the figure says softly and smiles.
He wakes suddenly, his past had come rushing back to him, bringing with it a flood of emotions. Memories of Blacksand, The Brotherhood and that fateful night were all clear to him now. "Did he die? Or was he saved by a strange old man in the night?" Images of his mother and a life before Blacksand flow in, Darkmane begins to sob into his hands, these memories where the most painful to bear, he had suppressed them well since he was a child.
Hours pass in which Darkmane cries, rages at the sky and for a long time, just stares into the distance.
He pulls himself up from the tree and takes in his surroundings, still shaking but much calmer. He hasn´t a clue where he might be, but notices a sign on the road pointing towards Karrandal and decides to follow it. After many days walking, stopping to make camp and every so often, an emotional breakdown, Darkmane spies the walls of an old keep up the track, through the woods. The gates are covered in vines and left ajar, making his way into the moss covered courtyard, he realises this place must have been abandoned a long time ago. A thought strikes him, he will repair it, restore this once proud structure and finally have a place to call home. "I saw a village back down the road, I shall head there and make inquiries," he thinks, a slight weight lifted off his soul at this new found purpose.
The scream of a fox snaps Darkmane back to reality.
The forest road was unfamiliar and the soft glow of Drokburg had vanished from sight. How far had he walked? In this brief moment of clarity, weariness took its opportunity to sink in and Darkmane found himself barely able to move. "I need to rest," he thought, sliding himself down against a tree, barely touching the ground before sinking into blackness.
"Valentis!" A beautiful young woman stands in a green field, a small farmhouse behind her. "Valentis!" She calls out, the sun bathing her lightly tanned skin. A young boy, no more than 8, runs out from the tree line towards the woman, his face beaming. He giggles as she catches him and spins on the spot, his legs gliding through the air. "Now where have you been?" Her voice is warm and soothing, with a soft accent. This beautiful, watercolour moment suddenly comes crashing down as riders approach from the road towards the farm. "Andru!" She shouts running towards the house, but the riders are too fast and she is struck down with a club. The young boy can see a man appear in the doorway moments before a bolt hits him in the chest, Valentis screams as a black-clad arm scoops him up. Through tears, he can make out his mother crawling towards her husband as the farm disappears into the distance.
In a foul smelling, Port Blacksand tannery, a 12 year old Valentis goes about his duties. Life here is hard, with work running from dawn to dusk and the knowledge that no one is your friend. "Come here boy!" Shouts a rough looking man, dressed in a black leather armour that had seen better days. Valentis walk over, knowing to stay silent and keep his eyes on the ground. "It´s time to begin your training lad. Gonna learn to earn your keep". He leads the skinny boy, dressed in ragged clothing, down below the tannery to the headquarters of Blacksand´s Assassin´s Guild. 'The Brotherhood of the Knife' serviced many of the city´s wealthy and influential people, including it´s tyrannical ruler Lord Varek Azzur, who often sent a lot of work their way. This was to be Valentis´family, his home, his entire life for the next 26 years, until something happened that would change his world forever.
Off the hall of the merchant´s fancy town-house, Valentis hid behind a curtain, one of many small alcoves lining the marbled hall. An hour passes, maybe two, when Valentis hears footsteps on the marble approaching him. He peeks through, hand sliding down to his dagger, when suddenly a young girl runs from one of the side rooms, whom the merchant scoops up in his arms. Valentis watches them spin and play and suddenly it´s not them but him in the arms of his mother. Lush green fields and laughter, as he is spun in circles by a lady with flowing black hair. The memory fades and the merchant disappears down the hall with his daughter. For the first time in his life, the life-long assassin can´t do it, he leaves the house via the rooftop and off into the night. Valentis heads to an Inn on the other side of town, there´s no going back to the Brotherhood now, he will have to lay low.
A few days pass, everything is prepared, he has passage booked on a ship leaving the city just before dawn. Valentis lays back on his pillow, one last night, and slowly drifts off to sleep. There´s a creak and in a split second from waking, Valentis´dagger finds the heart of an assassin sent to kill him. It was Sam, someone he had grown up with in the tannery and trained with at the Brotherhood. Sam stares at him, shocked and confused before crumpling to the ground. An unexpected tear rolls down Valentis´cheek, there´s more noise in the hall, he didn´t come alone. Making his way through the window, Valentis drops down into a small yard and runs off into the misty night. “There´s bound to be a few small boats tied up along river,” he thinks, turning into a small alley and up a flight of steps onto the street above. “There it is, almost made it,” there´s a sharp pain as a crossbow bolt sinks into his back.
Valentis lay there close to death and oblivious to the cloaked figure that approached and began to drag him off the street. “It´s not time for you yet,” the figure says softly and smiles.
He wakes suddenly, his past had come rushing back to him, bringing with it a flood of emotions. Memories of Blacksand, The Brotherhood and that fateful night were all clear to him now. "Did he die? Or was he saved by a strange old man in the night?" Images of his mother and a life before Blacksand flow in, Darkmane begins to sob into his hands, these memories where the most painful to bear, he had suppressed them well since he was a child.
Hours pass in which Darkmane cries, rages at the sky and for a long time, just stares into the distance.
He pulls himself up from the tree and takes in his surroundings, still shaking but much calmer. He hasn´t a clue where he might be, but notices a sign on the road pointing towards Karrandal and decides to follow it. After many days walking, stopping to make camp and every so often, an emotional breakdown, Darkmane spies the walls of an old keep up the track, through the woods. The gates are covered in vines and left ajar, making his way into the moss covered courtyard, he realises this place must have been abandoned a long time ago. A thought strikes him, he will repair it, restore this once proud structure and finally have a place to call home. "I saw a village back down the road, I shall head there and make inquiries," he thinks, a slight weight lifted off his soul at this new found purpose.