2
54 years ago
A young Demetrius Leonidas sat in an alley between two corner stores in the town center of Dark tow. The now-closed plaza was lit only by the moon and a single torch held by another person he couldn't quite see. Dirt covered his pure and innocent face along with the rest of his body. The 8-year-old boy wore a blue shirt three sizes too big, covered in holes big enough to be extra sleeves.
As the torch swayed and moved, giving him a better view of its holder, he made out a massive goliath dressed in a black jacket mounted on top of a man in peasant's clothes as he came down on him with a steel pole. The man on the bottom screamed in pain, pleading for his life as blow after blow descended the man further into unconsciousness.
When he finished the act, the towering figure stood up and tossed the pole at his dead adversary, a muffled clang ringing across the street as it bounced across the stone.
"That'll send your boys a lesson. Never screw with the trade union again!"
The man then looked around frantically, searching for witnesses, before locking eyes with Demetrius. They stared momentarily at each other, agreeing on what must be done next. No words were spoken between them. There was nothing either of them could do.
"Sorry about this, kid, but at least you won't have to live with this on your mind anymore," the man said as he walked over to the pole and picked it up.
"I got mouths to feed, just like your parents did. And I can't afford anybody talking to the concord about this one…"
He flicked some blood from the pipe and ran his hand up it one good time, wiping the rest off on his jacket as he slowly advanced toward the child.
Demetrius didn't scream or try to run. He was too hungry to gather the energy to do those things. He stared at the pole and sobbed.
But suddenly, as the man was upon Demetrius and the light from his torch revealed his pale blue face, he felt something calling him. He didn't feel hungry or tired or alone anymore. For the first time, he didn't feel those things. All he felt was anger. Anger that overrode hunger. Anger that overrode sadness. Anger that overrode weakness.
Demetrius went into a rage, picking up the nearest thing that looked like it could be held and swung like a weapon. He grabbed a thick, wooden stick from beside a trashcan and attacked the goliath with all his might.
The goliath toppled over from the inhumanly hard strike to his right leg as the wood broke over his knee, forcing him to drop the torch and giving way to a scramble between the 2, with Demetrius somehow overpowering the humanoid behemoth.
"S-somebody get this kid off me!" screamed the man as Demetrius bit into his leg with the ferocity of a rabid wolf, forcing a pain-filled scream.
He sunk his teeth as far as they would go, tasting the man's tightening, salty skin as it gave way to bare flesh under his jaws. He removed his teeth from the man's calf muscle, slowly climbed up to his face, and began clawing until he felt a wet mass under his nails.
The man threw him off, stumbling upwards and breaking into a half-jog towards the dying torch as quickly as possible, grabbing his face as blood leaked through his fingers. But as soon as he put weight on his right leg, it gave out, and he collapsed to the ground again.
Fueled by rage and instinct, Demetrius lunged towards the man again, but a sudden arm around his chest held him back like a barrier, the cold from the steel of the silver gauntlet around it sending a soft shock through his body.
"That's enough," came the solid, authoritative voice of the man in front of him.
The sturdy, masked human moved quickly in his armor, holding Demetrius in place with unwavering strength. Though the cold steel shoulder plates and chest pieces over iron plate mail would cause most to move encumbered, this man seemed to be moving with unencumbered freedom. Across his back was a 3-foot slender black sheath, the long handle wrapped in shining gold and marked with a seal depicting an eye protruding from his shoulder.
"Dammit, the Blade's here. Stay sharp," said the man in black under his breath as if speaking to someone else in the darkness.
"Wyatt Moranos, you are under arrest for the murder of Merigold and Geraldter Leonidas," the man said, his voice as solid as his armor.
"I should've known the Crownsguard reject would show up to play hero!" Wyatt screamed, stumbling upwards again.
"Get 'em, boys! Kill the kid first!"
At the will of Wyatt's voice, the darkness filled with the spark of torches in every direction, revealing a group of 10 humans wearing the same black jacket as Wyatt, charging towards the Blade with steel cutlasses.
The Blade swiftly grabbed Demitrius and began running, the trade union mob struggling to keep up despite the combined weight of his armor and the boy's body.
As they neared another empty ally further down the street between the blacksmith and the tannery, the Blade sat Demetrius down and kneeled before him.
"Are you ok?" He asked as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of jerky.
Without answering, Demetrius swiftly grabbed the jerky and began eating it like a rabid animal, taking deep breaths between each flurry of bites while shoving it into his mouth with both hands. As he ate, the Blade put a hand on his shoulder, a slight, sincere smile creeping across his half-visible face.
He unbuckled the water canteen from his belt and placed it on the ground before Demetrius.
"Stay here. I'll deal with those thugs, and then we can figure it out—" he said as he began to walk away, but a shockingly strong hand wrapped around his ankle interrupted him.
"Don't go," said Demetrius, the anger in his watering eyes replaced with a childlike sadness.
"I'll be right back. I promise. You need to drink some water and rest," the Blade said, prying the boy's fingers off him.
For a moment, the Blade stood with his back turned to Demetrius as he drew the long Yamato from its sheath, a song of metal softly ringing out into the night as the gleaming steel slid out.
As the Blade held the Yamato, cracks of dark energy began to flow through the golden-wrapped handle, creeping up his arm and engulfing his entire body before disappearing into the night.
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It had been two days since Demetrius killed Veris and his crew. The remains of his ship floated down the menagerie coast, past the southern Quoraska region, and eastward beyond the Ashkeeper peaks, its husk kept alive only by Demetrius's naval skill and determination.
His journey led him to the shore of the wild and sparsely populated southern plains, a meticulously selected landing point he was sure would escape the attention of local authorities.
Demetrius stood at the helm as the vast green expanse became fully visible, and the silhouettes of the distant forests' treeline surrounding the pains came into view.
His eyes scanned the feint, distant city lights beyond the treeline with a determined glare as if searching for the plank king within them.
As the ship approached the shore, Demetrius swept the desecrated wooden frigate one last time. He Sheathed his sword in the sheath over his shoulder, then made his way through the ravaged ship, stepping over and around piles of mangled bodies and heaps of broken wood, desensitized to his surroundings as he looted each room for potions and weapons, coming away with a new utility belt fitted with two small handaxes sheathed on each side that he put on immediately as well as a Greater healing potion and a potion of speed that he tucked into the many pockets in the inside of his cloak.
He then returned to the helm, guiding the ship as its carcass gracefully slid onto the shore, pinching the dirt around the bottom, and the splintered wood groaned to a slow stop. Moments of relative silence he followed as waves crashed and swaying trees moved in peace, bringing the moon above him in and out of sight at the will of the winds.
He jumped from the ship's helm, his large body making a heavy thud and kicking up sand as he landed in a kneel, using one arm to brace his fall.
He stood up, looked at his surroundings, and calculated the distance to the closest village. He looked into the sky closely, searching for a trail of smoke from a chimney or campfire, and found one towering over the forest to the north, no more than five miles away.
The southern and eastern lands were the most familiar parts of Xhorhas to Demetrius but were still foreign in many ways. For 40 years, he'd made a living patrolling the streets of Nicodranas, hunting pirates and putting their heads on pikes. Though only a human, his timeless and resilient body was a miracle. He was the most feared man on the entire menagerie coast, considered a myth by many and a deterrent to anyone who thought about turning crime.
But Xhorhas was not a place rife with crime and corruption like the cities of the Menagerie Coast. It was a place of magic beings, demons, and beasts. Mortals and immortals of all kinds fought wars with inconceivable weapons, and dark gods attempted to manipulate the state of the material plane.
He was a martial warrior in heart and mind; it was all he'd ever known. Thus, his knowledge of the magic, gods, and interplanar affairs in Xhorhas was minimal, but one thing he was sure of was that the foes he was bound to encounter would fall with less ease here than they did in his home region.
He walked cautiously along a dirt path through the moonlit wilderness, his body tense and ready to move at a second's notice. As he marched, the dark, sprawling planes offered an eerie atmosphere.
The night was quiet, and the breeze was soft and refreshing, but there was an ominous feeling in the air, like a silent dread looming over the horizon. As Demetrius pressed on and descended into the forest, his gate slowed, and he instinctively drew his broadsword. The night air was still silent, but his instincts told him someone or something was watching him. His head swiveled side to side as he gripped the hilt of his greatsword in a defensive stance. Just as his instincts told him, his keen ears detected the faint sound of movement nearby.
He turned to face his potential assailant and was met only with darkness. He stood still for a moment, his eyes darting around the forest.
Suddenly, in less than a second, the acoustic slap of 3 bow shots rang out from the brush infront of him, and three arrows flew toward him, whistling as they cut the air.
In the time before the arrows connected, Demetrius spotted them and swung his heavy broadsword upward, batting the arrows away with quick ease.
As he was momentarily distracted by the projectiles, a shadowed figure appeared behind him and attempted to swipe a cutlass across his neck, but his reflexes were too quick.
He turned and grabbed the attacker by the wrist with his free hand, feeling the bone in their forearm snap under his grip and forcing them to drop the Blade before headbutting the figure with ungodly force, throwing them to the ground.
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As the dazed assailant reeled in the grass between grunts of pain, Demetrius walked up to the discarded cutlass and kicked it away, sending it several feet.
Realizing he outmatched whoever his opponent was, he sheathed his sword, bloodlust quickly turning to curiosity as he got a better look at the figure and recognized him as a drow.
He knew little about the drow as a people. It was common knowledge that the ancient drow inhabited Xhorhas and how their society was split into noble houses, constantly at war for dominance. Demetrius looked at the drow, trying to decipher his intentions. The last drow he encountered was the leader of a small pirate crew, but Demetrius could tell by the way he moved that this one was no criminal. The drow slowly got up to his feet and looked up at Demetrius with fear, clutching his left arm.
He was a slim male wearing a simple tan cloth tunic and brown cloth pants tied to his waist with rope; a quiver and a bow were slung over his back. His feet were covered in worn hunting boots, parts of each foot visible through tears and holes.
"T-the Blade...?" Said the drow, his voice shaking as Demetrius towered over him.
"This... This can't be real! You're a myth!"
"and you're in my way. Step aside, or I'll kill you," Demetrius said in an intimidating voice.
"Please! Y-you don't understand! I-I thought... I thought you were..." replied the drow, stuttering and stumbling over his words as he slowly stood up.
Demetrius gave the drow an annoyed glare, watching him lean against a tree, clutching his arms as he struggled to speak briefly before rolling his eyes and shaking his head.
"I have more important battles to fight. Be glad I spared your life," Demetrius said, his large hand gripping the drow's shoulder as he pushed past him and began walking away.
The drow remained still, his eyes locked forward as Demetrius' heavy steps slowly began trailing off.
"wait... But if he's the Blade, then..." the drow said under his breath, snapping out of his trance of fear and turning toward Demetrius.
He racked his brain, furrowing his brow, as he merged two and two together in his mind and spawned an idea.
"Wait!" cried the drow as he started towards Demetrius.
Demetrius stopped walking and closed his eyes in annoyance, taking a deep breath and waiting for the drow to catch up to him.
"Please! You have to help!" Exclaimed the drow between labored breaths as he approached Demetrius.
"The demons have been coming out of the Ashkeeper peaks in droves, slaughtering our people! When I saw you, I thought you were one of them. But now I see the legendary Blade has come to Xhorhas. Please, I beg of you, help us defeat these foul creatures! They have the blood of hundreds on their hands!"
Demetrius slowly opened his eyes and looked up at the moon. Ever since the death of his master years ago, his identity as a hero had begun to transition to that of an avenger, a ruthless and undeniable avatar of vengeance. It had been many years since anyone had asked him for help, and he was now used to solving problems with his methods, judging and executing with no remorse.
It was refreshing. Though Demetrius was focused on killing the Plank King, he felt victory would mean nothing if he let him take his morals away and control his actions.
"These demons… Where were they last seen?" He asked, meeting the drow's eyes.
"T-thornbrook... It's just a few miles north of here," the drow replied, pointing in the direction with his good arm.
"I will slay them. Lead the way," Demetrius ordered as he took out the Greater healing potion from his cloak and tossed it to the drow before walking towards the direction he pointed.
The man ran to catch up with the intimidating figure, flashing a bright smile that drowned out his pain and fear.
"Y-you mean you'll help us?" the man asked excitedly, walking ahead of Demetrius and turning around.
"The Plank King now operates within Xhorhas, which means so do I. And wherever I operate, evil fears me. There can be no exceptions," Demetrius said, his voice trailing off into thought as he walked down the path.
"The Plank King?! Do you mean to say that he's real as well?!" The drow asked, his eyes wide with fear as he walked backward infront of Demetrius.
"It seems my lands are as foreign to you as your lands are to me. The Plank King exists and is a terrorizing force on the menagerie coast. For the last 50 years, he has controlled our people through crime, corruption, and murder, and I have hunted him throughout it all, losing everything in the process. With my region more or less under his control, the Plank King plans to expand his reach to Xhorhas. I plan to kill him before he does," Demetrius explained in more detail, his voice laced with fatigue that was born not from physical exhaustion but the mental energy exerted to break out of his inner thoughts and engage in conversation once again.
The drow stood still and let Demetrius pass him, staring at him in awe.
"You're over 60 years old?!" exclaimed the drow in a hushed, amazed tone.
"And you plan to kill one of the strongest hill giants ever?"
"He and everyone that comes between us," murmured Demetrius as he continued walking, gaining distance from the drow.
"Well, that's a goal I certainly won't be getting in the way of. The people of my village will be happy to do anything they can to assist you if you truly can defeat a demon," the drow said, speed-walking to catch up to Demetrius again.
"by the way, I've not introduced myself properly. I am Ky'vorn Despana, guardian of thronbrook village.I am known as the black tempest of death among my people, but you can call me Ky-"
"Silence!" Demetrius interrupted in a low tone that shook Ky'vorn to his core, turning around and eyeing the drow with a hunter's stare.
Ky'vorn went utterly silent and still as Demetrius glared at him momentarily before looking upward. Ky followed Demtrius' line of sight but saw nothing unusual.
The trees slowly swayed in soft waves over the moonlight, just as before. The full moon's bright light was almost too much to see directly.
However, as he marveled at its beauty, a shadow rushed across the forest canopy, slicing through the moon's light.
Ky'vorn's eyes grew wide with fear, and realization quickly set in. He then felt Demtrius's large hand push him aside, and he stumbled from the force before his eyes returned to ground level.
"Stay behind me!" Demetrius ordered as he yanked his large, crude broadsword from the sheath on his back and gripped it firmly with both hands, pulling it to his waist so the edge lined up with his right shoulder. He set his feet wide, planted them firmly, and braced his knees.
The night sky began to fill with flying dark figures, countless sets of glowing red eyes illuminating the canopy, followed by progressively louder laughter.
"no... T-they've found us! There's too many!" cried Ky'vorn, his eyes frantically moving back and forth, his dark vision providing him with every detail of the countless demons lurking in the trees.
"The Blade's protege still lives?" came from above a mocking, high-pitched voice.
"I thought he was a samurai. What is doing wielding such crude weapons?" came another deeper male voice from the other direction.
"I see my influence has spread further than I was aware!" Demetrius roared, his tone filled with a confident energy that Ky had not yet seen.
"Come and face me! See the legend for yourselves, you cowards!"
The laughter stopped in response, transitioning to low, angry growls that nearly drowned out the sounds of the swaying trees as a humanoid demon jumped down to face Demetrius, illuminated by the moonlight and the soft red glow of the malicious eyes above them.
The dark-skinned half-demon was only inches shorter than Demetrius, standing nearly 7 feet tall with long, short hair and a smooth face. But that was where his human traits ended. His forearms were necrotic, leading to two large sets of three razor-sharp claws for his hands. He was shirtless, revealing a humanoid torso, his heart flowing with dark energy bright enough for all to see its purple glow peaking from inside his chest. He wore a pair of fitted cloth pants with no shoes.
"You speak as if you'll survive the night. Interesting," the demon said in a distorted voice, flourishing his claws outward as dark energy flowed through them, cracking in small bursts around his body.
Demetrius maintained his position in silence, gripping his sword tightly. He eyed the demon with calculated eyes, determining the best moment to strike.
The demon scoffed at Demtrius' determination and lunged forward with blinding speed, swiping across Demtruis' face.
In one quick motion, Demetrius held his sword out infront of him, sprung forward off of his back foot, and met the demon's claw with a powerful overhead strike that produced a metallic boom, sending sparks and dark energy flying in all directions as he swatted the demon's attack away.
The clash threw the demon backward, landing on his feet, his heels digging into the dirt.
Ky'vorn was almost knocked off his feet from the shockwave, putting his good arm over his face as dirt and rocks flew toward him.
"By Lolth's webs..." He said under his breath. His vision became clear again, and he could see the two locked in combat, in awe at the strength of the mortal human.
"How dare a worthless mortal man raise a weapon against me?!" Cried the demon as he planted his feet and lunged forward again, this time swiping in a horizontal path across Demetrius' midsection, his arm outstretched just behind him as he unleashed and stretched his body, gathering recoil for a powerful strike.
Demetrius quickly stepped to the side with his lead foot, resetting his posture as the demon flew past him and cut a nearby tree in half. Wood splinters spread through the air as the tree tumbled to the ground with a loud thud that shook the ground.
The demon turned around with an angry expression that quickly turned to one of surprise as he saw Demetrius in the air, coming down on him with his sword held in a reverse position above his head so that he was looking up at the tip.
The demon held his arms defensively across his face. Still, Demetrius' sword went through the gap and jammed into the space just under his nostril, smashing through his face and implanting itself inches into the roof of his mouth, the large body of the human crashing down on him.
Demetrius landed on top of the demon, postured up as he yanked the foible of his sword from the demon's broken face before coming down on him again, roaring as he gathered the strength to end the demon's life.
The demon tried to strike Demetrius from the bottom, cursing at him in intelligible, bloody gargles that were cut short as the tip of the fighter's sword went through his eye and deep into his skull before his claw connected with anything, causing him to go limp.
He yanked the sword from the demon's face again, this time standing up fully and looking down at the unrecognizable pile of mangled flesh where the demon's smug face once was, mentally confirming he had killed him.
Ky'vorn was awestruck at the violent display, silently watching with his mouth agape, softly mouthing the words "abyssal spawn... Felled in one attack."
Fear, amazement, and the effort to comprehend the events before him took over his mind, leaving no room to form total words or move as he observed Demetrius.
He had never felt such a unique fear before. Demetrius appeared to fight with a rage that looked like it had no end. A rage that struck more fear into him than the demons he faced. And yet, he could sense under that rage the desire to protect. Demetrius wasn't enraged at the Demons for the thrill of the fight. He was avenging the suffering of those lost to crime everywhere, taking on the pain of the mothers and fathers of those killed in cold blood, the innocent people who begged for their lives as they were cut down by pirates, burned by demons, stabbed by thugs, or killed in conquest.
Though Ky'vorn was hesitant to gain hope, he almost began to feel pity for the demons above. They only contributed to a small part of the hundreds of thousands of lives that Demetrius fought to avenge. But win or lose, he knew Demetrius would make them pay for everyone.
Three demonic dretches jumped down from the trees as Demetrius flicked the abyssal spawn's blood from his sword, landing behind Demetrius with three soft crashes that he counted in his head briefly before turning to face them.
They were large, monstrous, and vile bipedal creatures with oversized arms that acted as legs when they landed. Their faces were grotesque; the flesh exposed, and the features of their snout noses and sharp, rigid fangs obscured by the puss and blood that secreted from every crevasse and dripped down their chins, pooled on the ground below them. Their eyes were barely visible, but Demetrius could still make out the sparkle of sadistic excitement within them. They were much more menacing than normal Deretches, rivaling Demetrius' height. They stood six and a half feet tall, flexing muscular bodies that stretched their rough grey skin with every movement.
The demons' wet growls and foul smell partially snapped Ky'vorn out of his trance. He sprinted off the path about 15 feet away, up a slight incline toward a tall boulder, and hid behind it, peeking from the side as he watched in awe and anticipation. The chaotic situation suspended his reality, the very logic with which he lived his life thrown in his face and made useless as he watched the living myth in action. He could no longer even hope to predict how anything would play out. All he could do was watch and hope.
The dretches slowly circled Demetrius, walking on their arms and spreading out.
Demetrius' eyes flickered between them, his sword held by his side with one hand.
"you worthless creatures bore me," He said as they surrounded him, flanking him on both sides.
He grabbed his sword with two hands and planted his feet once again, this time lunging forward off of his back foot toward the dretch infront of him, kicking up dirt with such force that the two dretches flanking him were knocked backward from the wind that was generated by his large mass moving so quickly.
He held his sword low and pointed it towards his target, impaling it quickly, the fuller of his sword extending out of its back.
Though mortally wounded, the dretch had no instinct other than bloodlust with no regard for life or death. Instead of grabbing the sword or reeling in pain, it swiped its claws across Demtrius' face, forcing his jaw to turn nearly 90 degrees from the force and leaving three distinct trails of blood across the left side of his face.
The strike dazed Demetrius but only allowed his ferocious instincts to take over even more.
With a low grunt of pain that turned into a cry of effort, he turned his sword to the side, ravaging through the dretch's insides before pushing through the rest of its body for a powerful horizontal strike that cut through the left side of its torso, freeing his sword in a splash of flesh and blood.
The dretch was thrown into the air from the force of the strike alone, smashing into the ground 5 feet away in a heap of blood.
Demetrius turned his back foot 180 degrees to face the two dretches behind him, ignoring the blood dripping from his cheek.
They wasted no more time, charging at him with wild slashes
He quickly stepped toward them, targeting the closest attacker. In a quick motion, he held his sword outward to meet the first wild strike, parrying it in a metal clang before turning his sword downward and unleashing an overhead attack that cut into the dretch's shoulder, smashing through its collar bone and embedding itself deep in its chest.
As he attempted to free his sword from the dretch's mortally wounded body, the other dretch slashed him across the body, cutting into the leather armor he wore under his cloak and knocking the wind out of him, forcing him to drop his sword and let it crumble to the ground with the body of the dretch it slew.
He stumbled backward, clutching his stomach to see if the attack drew blood, and was relieved when he only felt the marred leather and broken plates where the strike landed.
The remaining dretch was upon him before he regained his footing, throwing a wild strike that Demetrius stumbled out of the way of.
Demetrius' hand then reached across his body to his waist, and he wrapped it around the short handle of a steel axe, pulling it from the small sheath and unleashing a backhanded slashing attack against the dretch's stomach that opened it up and gave way to a cascade of blood.
The dretch ignored the fatal strike and swung again, but Demetrius was quicker. He stepped in closer and brought the axe down across the dretch's neck, implanting nearly half of the axe's head into its arteries.
The dretch's growls became fleeting and choked as it grabbed Demetruis' arm in a futile attempt to defend itself.
Demetrius yanked the axe out of the dretch's neck, breaking out its grip, and then came down on the same spot again with a furious cry of anger, following through on a powerful strike, his axe gliding into the previous gash and cutting the dretch's head clean off in a wave of blood and bone.
The dretch's body collapsed beside its head, the contents of its stomach spilling out its wound and into the dirt.
Demetrius looked upward, expecting to face more opponents, but instead, the three remaining sets of red eyes looked down at him, unmoving in silence.
"Leave them. They have nothing to offer us," came the smug voice of one of them in the same tone as the abyssal spawn killed moments ago.
"We still have plenty to feed on in the village," came another humanoid voice.
With a deep audible wave, the sets of eyes trailed off into the night, the dark silhouette of their wings gliding across the moon once more, leaving Demetrius and Ky with the sounds of the idle forest.
"you did it! You killed them all! I've never seen anything like it!" Exclaimed Ky'vorn, his excited, relieved cries ringing out across the forest as he strumbled over the brush toward the path.
Demetrius ignored Ky'vorn's cries, sheathing his axe, stepping over the headless body, and wrenching his sword from the chest of the other dretch he killed.
"We can't waste any more time," Demetrius said, observing his now bent and chipped sword.
"I won't let these cowards escape their fates, no matter how high they can fly," Demetrius said as he tossed the totaled sword back to the ground and began walking down the path again.
Ky'vorn ran to catch up with him, slowing to catch his breath while he was beside him.
"yes, we have to keep moving. We have to make it to Thornebrook before them," he said.
"with a warrior like you at our side, we can finally fight back!"
Demetrius silently walked in response; the feint echoes a smile creeping across his lips.
"We'll do more than fight back," he thought as they walked hastily along the path, winding between switchbacks and scaling small hills.
"We're going to make them pay for it all."