(Author's Note - This is very much a work in progress and the first creative writing I've tried in a long time. I apologize for any errors and the current lack of length. I am posting what little I have to see if it would interest anyone and if so, to help motivate me. Critique, good or bad, is welcomed. Should I find the willpower to write on, I will update this first post as the story continues. Thank you.)
“My hands are stained with the blood of my brothers. A furious storm of rage erupted inside me. An uncontrollable hatred consumed my very being, eating away at me, that my blade cut into flesh and bone and life. Only moments passed between serenity and chaos, but that was more than enough time to steal away the lives of those I loved. My people have been shamed and my family dishonored. May the Gods curse my existence and allow me no peace in death. Henceforth, I am no longer known as K’avar the Redguard. I am now K’avar the Kin-slayer.”
K’avar closed his eyes, allowing his mind to clear and his hands to steady, taking deep breaths in between. Having had taken refuge as a passenger of the Skinny Horker, he found the constant rocking of the ship soothing. A superficial bandage on an ailing wound. One time could not heal.
It had been days since he fled from his homeland. Days since he turned his back on the punishment he deserved. He was born of the sand... of the desert. Hammerfell. Home. A land he did not expect to ever see again. Alive anyway. Death would embrace him but not today. Not until his questions had answers. And revenge. Should that day arrive he would gladly take his own life. K’avar patted the small pouch of coin on his belt. He would make sure his head is delivered to his father.
“Oi, you there! Up and about now will you. Supper is being served and you best not lout about, else you’ll be having none of it!” There it is again. That high-pitched voice. K’avar had no need to open his eyes to see who spoke. He knew. Bovkin. A Breton past childhood yet still a few years from manhood. A scrawny, dirty, and unrealistic youth filled with disillusioned dreams of grandeur and ragged clothing to match. ‘Such bliss to be young and ignorant...’, K’avar thought to himself as memories of better days washed over him. Nostalgia momentarily rinsing some of his pain away. It would not last.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Bovkin was standing next to him now, impatiently tapping his foot. K’avar opened his good eye, slowly glancing at the boy and his comical attempt at a scowl. The Redguard sighed, motioning the boy away with a flick on his hand. He was in no mood for feigned bravado. Or company. The whelp would need to learn when someone sought his company and when it was unwanted. Unfortunately for K’avar, Bovkin lacked common sense as well.
“Oi! Did you hear what I said?” The boy spoke louder now, stomping his feet as hard as he could in the process. “Don’t tell me you be deaf? Just my luck is it!”He forced a sigh, shaking his head slightly. “I SAID... DID... YOU... HEAR... WHAT... I... SAI-URGH!” Bovkins mouth snapped shut, the sound loud enough to echo throughout the lower deck, as K’avar snatched the boy up by a handful of shirt and held him firmly in the air. The speed in which he was yanked from the ground as well as the intense look of the Redguards eye, silenced any objections he might have spoken otherwise.
“Good.” K’avar spoke slowly. “You realize your mistake. Only the Gods pass judgment and suffer no man a fool. Learn from this. Understood?”
The boy swallowed. Hard. His face the image of fear. His legs frantically searching for the ground, a desperate struggle to get free. To no avail. Still, he managed enough courage to nod his head. K’avar granted his wish, easing him back to the floor and releasing the iron grip he commanded.
“Go child. I will not be joining the others.” Bovkin made his escape, fleeing back up deck as K’avar returned to his seat. He closed his eyes once more, pondering if he himself believed the words that he spoke. Gods. Judgment. Revenge. Destiny. Salvation. Redemption. What did Fate have in store for him? His journey was just beginning.
Prologue
“My hands are stained with the blood of my brothers. A furious storm of rage erupted inside me. An uncontrollable hatred consumed my very being, eating away at me, that my blade cut into flesh and bone and life. Only moments passed between serenity and chaos, but that was more than enough time to steal away the lives of those I loved. My people have been shamed and my family dishonored. May the Gods curse my existence and allow me no peace in death. Henceforth, I am no longer known as K’avar the Redguard. I am now K’avar the Kin-slayer.”
***
K’avar closed his eyes, allowing his mind to clear and his hands to steady, taking deep breaths in between. Having had taken refuge as a passenger of the Skinny Horker, he found the constant rocking of the ship soothing. A superficial bandage on an ailing wound. One time could not heal.
It had been days since he fled from his homeland. Days since he turned his back on the punishment he deserved. He was born of the sand... of the desert. Hammerfell. Home. A land he did not expect to ever see again. Alive anyway. Death would embrace him but not today. Not until his questions had answers. And revenge. Should that day arrive he would gladly take his own life. K’avar patted the small pouch of coin on his belt. He would make sure his head is delivered to his father.
“Oi, you there! Up and about now will you. Supper is being served and you best not lout about, else you’ll be having none of it!” There it is again. That high-pitched voice. K’avar had no need to open his eyes to see who spoke. He knew. Bovkin. A Breton past childhood yet still a few years from manhood. A scrawny, dirty, and unrealistic youth filled with disillusioned dreams of grandeur and ragged clothing to match. ‘Such bliss to be young and ignorant...’, K’avar thought to himself as memories of better days washed over him. Nostalgia momentarily rinsing some of his pain away. It would not last.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Bovkin was standing next to him now, impatiently tapping his foot. K’avar opened his good eye, slowly glancing at the boy and his comical attempt at a scowl. The Redguard sighed, motioning the boy away with a flick on his hand. He was in no mood for feigned bravado. Or company. The whelp would need to learn when someone sought his company and when it was unwanted. Unfortunately for K’avar, Bovkin lacked common sense as well.
“Oi! Did you hear what I said?” The boy spoke louder now, stomping his feet as hard as he could in the process. “Don’t tell me you be deaf? Just my luck is it!”He forced a sigh, shaking his head slightly. “I SAID... DID... YOU... HEAR... WHAT... I... SAI-URGH!” Bovkins mouth snapped shut, the sound loud enough to echo throughout the lower deck, as K’avar snatched the boy up by a handful of shirt and held him firmly in the air. The speed in which he was yanked from the ground as well as the intense look of the Redguards eye, silenced any objections he might have spoken otherwise.
“Good.” K’avar spoke slowly. “You realize your mistake. Only the Gods pass judgment and suffer no man a fool. Learn from this. Understood?”
The boy swallowed. Hard. His face the image of fear. His legs frantically searching for the ground, a desperate struggle to get free. To no avail. Still, he managed enough courage to nod his head. K’avar granted his wish, easing him back to the floor and releasing the iron grip he commanded.
“Go child. I will not be joining the others.” Bovkin made his escape, fleeing back up deck as K’avar returned to his seat. He closed his eyes once more, pondering if he himself believed the words that he spoke. Gods. Judgment. Revenge. Destiny. Salvation. Redemption. What did Fate have in store for him? His journey was just beginning.
