A Tale Of Blood, Sand And Vengeance - Prologue.

• Posted by Tom June 18, 2014 - 1,252 views

  A Tale of Blood, Sand And Vengeance.

  Prologue

   

  'Juncan hide!' Screamed father. I was still too young to fully understand what was happening, but I did exactly as father asked, I lifted a few of our houses creaking floorboards and lowered myself into the crawlspace cowering. Then knocking came at the door, it wasn't the kind of knock one would Perceive as threatening, it was a calm knock, one that called out friend rather than foe. Father didn't let them in though, I heard him rummaging through his chest, the clunking and clattering of his different tools echoed through the house, finally finding what he was looking for, his sword. He told me this blade once belonged to a member of an ancient order of dragon hunters, that when wielded became an extension of your own body, and if you truly were one with the blade it would always strike true. He stopped said some words, it sounded like prayer, why was father praying? 'Knock knock knock' This time the knocking heavy, accompanied by a voice, "let me in jaran, you shouldn't put your death off even longer!" My blood ran cold, death? Why would anyone want to kill my father? He is a simple merchant, a kind man and a great father. 'Knock knock knock' this time harder than the last. "I'll knock one last time Jaran, then I'm coming for you, face your end like a man!" father drew the blade, and hid behind the door. He was shaking with fear, and while every instinct in my body told me to close my eyes and hide away, I could not, I was fixated on what was going on, I crawled closer to the doorway, and peered through the splintered floorboards. 'Knock knock knock'

  The door burst open, revealing my fathers assailant. A tall slim Redguard, wearing a red hood, and garb, with a long tattered brown cloak. He had a beard, tied in a knot at the bottom, a rugged face, his deep brown eyes filled with bloodlust. That face still haunts my nightmares to this very day. “Where are you hiding Jaran? Come and face me, The dread father requires your soul.” The man drew his sword, A curved scimitar with intricate engravings along the hilt, he walked further into the house, standing right above me now, he stopped. Then I saw my father lunge at him with his blade, the assassin already knew he was there, he side stepped the lunge and followed it through with a kick to my fathers shin. Father let out a yelp of pain, The assassin could have finished father there and then but didn't. Was he toying with him? Or giving my father a fair chance?

  “You'll not take me today assassin, today is not the day I die!” 

  “Today, tomorrow, what difference does it make? Why prolong the inevitable Jaran?”

  "ENOUGH TALKING! Die assassin!" 

  My father swung his blade, the assassin parried and returned with an upward thrust, father stepped back, but the blade glanced his chest, cutting through his robes, he quickly composed himself, and grabbed a nearby bowl of salt, throwing it into the assassins face then following up with a flurry of blows. Even blinded the assassin managed to block each attack, he didn't even seem to grow tired. He kicked father In the shin again this time with even greater force than last time, followed by a blow to the head with the hilt of his sword. Father tried to make another swing, but the assassin simply side-stepped away and knocked fathers sword from his hand. “Are you ready to die now Jaran?” Father didn't reply, simply spat at the assassin. “Sithis take you Jaran.” With that he plunged his blade directly into fathers chest. I felt blood dripping on my head, it was over. My father was dead. The assassin walked towards my fathers dripping body and looked down on him, and I could have sworn he was looking directly at me with his cold, dead eyes. He removed his sword from father, and wiped the blade on one of our cloths, then departed, slamming the door behind him. Leaving my life in tatters, I Stayed there under the floorboards for an hour after the assassins departure, not knowing how to cope I simply just stared at my fathers limp corpse above, hoping he'd get up and tell me it was safe to come out. When I eventually developed the courage to leave my hiding place I still did not know what to do. I simply dropped to the floor and cuddled my fathers lifeless corpse. I let out a scream, clinging to him, hoping that if I gripped tight enough he'd come back to me. I began to cry, between sobs and the flurry of tears I didn't notice the city guardsman enter the room. 

  "What has happened here?!" Exclaimed the guard. 

  "H-h-He killed my father! He broke into our home, and th-there was a fight, and shouting! then he just, he just killed him" I could barely speak between my sobs, I didn't want to answer questions, I wanted my father back. At my young age I couldn't truly comprehend that I wouldn't be seeing him again, and at such a moment all logical thought was out the window. 

  
  The Guard pondered for a moment, carefully thinking through his reply,he ended up taking me to the guards barracks. He was a kind man, I never managed to catch his name but he fed me, and gave me a bed for the night, between lengthy questioning and my constant outbursts of crying I'm surprised anyone had any time for a merchant's child like me, but this particular guard seemed to pity me. Unfortunately there was not much else he could do for me in the situation, with no other immediate family I ended up on the streets. This is where my struggle began.

   

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