The Mentor

‘Is he dead?’ the little one asked.

“No little one. It will take more than that to kill his spirit.”

The two figures, one ghostly, the other ragged, looked down over the unconscious husk of a man. The old man spoke up again with one withered hand resting on the hilt of his great sword and the other clasping a pipe. “Fate seems to have a different path for him, one that may bring balance towards the side of hope. I remember that day I found him in the mud.” The little ghost stood there as the elder recalled his journeys from long ago.

The day was dark from the storms that had filled the lands of the Western Empire. I was on my way to seek out stories of a vampire lord who terrorized the lands. It was only a few weeks into my long journey when I stumbled upon the sacked farm. The stench of burnt flesh could be smelt as one approached. After investigating the scorched land it was easy to determine that this malice was not the work of a vampire lord. No, it was that of some marauding rapscallions who wished to fill the already torn world with more pain and death. I found the remains of an adult and a child. Their souls were put to ease by my magic. They moved on. If only I had known. As I investigated the fields, divining for any other clues I came across the man buried in the mud, except for his upper portion of his face and a hand. I began to prepare the process of joining this soul to its deity. When the Shard of Nes’ Yarg began to glow through my robes. It was immediately apparent that this soul strong. However, when I pulled it out of my robes it shined so bright that the gloomy day around me appeared as if it was high noon on a summer’s day in the desert. I dropped the gem from being blinded and quickly put it back on my person after recovering my composure. After excavating the man from his muddy grave, I peered into his final moments. It was after seeing this that I knew he must come back. The rituals were prepared, the spell was cast, and I waited.

His rigid body cracked as his joints jolted forth as if being struck by a bolt of lightning. I reached out with one hand and spoke, “Get up and get your vengeance!” His grasp was firm. This farmer would definitely be strong. With that I toke him with me and began our training as he was about to meet his first real challenge. The vampire lord that I was seeking out. It looks like the odds were back in my favor.

Through his training though he did keep a list in that black book you have seen him read every night. That list contains the names and research he has done for all those who wronged him that night. The old man looked at the little spirit. “He has never forgiven me for releasing his family that day, and to be honest neither have I forgiven myself. If only I had been less quick to act.”

The man with No Name gasps for air as he props himself onto all fours. He has awakened.

Insight into the aftermath of the battle with The Terror and No Names survival.

Image from 1MS.net.

 

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