Post by Mathew Amtrum on Jun 29, 2008 20:39:50 GMT -8
Young child sized hands gripped the blade tightly, knuckles turning white from strain as the young boy panted heavily holding on to the hilt for dear life. Before him stood a thin but muscular man, his body chiseled to perfection over many years of work, movements as swift and fluid as a snakes. Wild blond hair flew in the breeze as he stood opposite of the young child. His breathing showed no sign of strain as his calculating blue eyes seemed to take in every detail of there surroundings. The man also held a small dagger that was dripping with the child's blood. His cold eyes showing no pity or sympathy for the pain that the boy endured.
The boy would try and ignore the pain in his side but each breath was labored and caused him to grunt in pain. Clenching his toes he felt the soft sand that they stood on his own eyes frantically searching for a clue of what he was supposed to do. Time was running out and he knew it, he had to strike and strike soon or it would be over. The boy would launch himself at the man, his knife attempting to plunge deep in to the man's stomach.
The man however would move with the perfect grace of his trade and before the boy could blink the man's hand clutched his wrist preventing him from moving the blade so much as an inch, the already blood soaked blade was pressed against his throat. He could feel a small trickle of his lifeblood dripping down his skin as the cold steel cut through his flesh like silk. With a ragged breath his eyes would look up fearfully at the man that now held his life tightly in his hand. All he had to do was breath and the short life that the boy had lived would be over for good.
"You are lucky Ingemar, it is not yet your time to die. The Raven Queen does not demand your life yet." The man would say in a dull almost emotionless voice as he let the boy's wrist drop and removed the blade from his throat. Wiping the blood on his sleeve the man would make the blade vanish up his sleeve so fast that Ingemar almost had to wonder if it had ever left his sleeve in the first place.
Ingemar would drop down to his knees before pressing his forehead in to the dirt before his mentor in submission. He didn't dare look up and when he spoke his voice still trembled as blood slowly dripped on to the sand, neither man nor boy making any effort to stop the bleeding at the moment.
"My master, I will be a worthy tool for the Raven Queen. I am sorry I failed you today." He would say, a small sob wracking his body from the shame he felt mingled with the pain of his wounds. Tears started to glisten on the young boy's eyes as he chanced a quick look up at his master. He was startled to see that instead of scornful or emotionless blue eyes he say sympathy and understanding which was quickly followed by a small pat on the head.
"Ingemar you are still young and rash, ruled by your emotions. You must learn to control them all lest your hand be stayed by pity, lest your actions be dulled by fear, or pushed by anger." A meaningful glance following these words told Ingemar that his mentor had gone through just that as well, the words and small gesture of kindness made him swallow his tears and nod firmly as he stood up determined to make his mentor proud.
"Now come on lets tend to your wounds. You are still in training and thus the cleric's magic is not available to you. We need to treat you with herbs and bandages. Do you know why?" He would ask, his tone once again returned to that of the mentor and instructor. Quizzing his pupil on the reasons behind practice as the two of them left the training yard on their way to the infirmary.
Ingemar would nod slowly as he followed his mentor trying not to show the pain he felt with each breath. Using every ounce of strength he had to not stumble as he answered with his best effort to sound like his mentor.
"Because as a servant of the Raven Queen it is my duty to perform her will and to end the lives of those who would try and defy her will. Those that create an unbalance in the world by preserving or destroying life thus upsetting the natural balance of life and death. Because we are keepers of balance it is rare for the Raven Queen to grant her power to cure wounds with magic thus preserving life in a most unnatural manner. So we learn to be treated by natural remedies so that we may keep ourselves fit and able to follow her will without perverting the balance ourselves." He would say with a nod and a grin letting on how proud he was of his answer despite his best attempts to remain blank and unreadable.
"Very good Ingemar. But tell me, why is it bad to preserve life. Saving a life is a good deed and most gods honor that deed. Why then does ours scorn both those that save and destroy lives without discretion?" He would ask throwing his young pupil a harder question as they entered the infirmary.
This time Ingemar had to pause to think about his answer. This was a part of the doctrine that he had never understood or agreed with. He assumed it would make more sense when he was older and no longer just a child. But for the life of him he could see no evil in saving or preserving a life. After all they aimed to make the world a better place by eliminating imbalances, and while he understood mentally why it was a necessary evil his heart didn't accept it fully. He still felt that life was precious and that while it was right and just to kill a man for killing indiscriminately to do the same to a man for saving a village from destruction wasn't just. He couldn't accept in to his heart that preserving life could be a sin. Still he knew the answer that his mentor was looking for and he would give it in a dull and cold voice that sounded like it belonged on a man of 20 not a boy of 10.
"Preserving life is a sin because it upsets the balance of life and death. For one creature to live another must die. To save the deer would mean to kill the wolf whether it be by the sword or starvation. Ultimately one life will cancel out that of another. By doing that you are preventing the will of the Raven Queen, the goddess of death and weaver of fate. It is to preserve this balance and ultimately protect the lives of the truly innocent that we implement our Queen's judgment." He would say speaking the words that his heart didn't hold true.
By the time he finished his answer they would have arrived at their destination and his mentor would sit down in a chair watching as the young boy started to go through the supplies picking out the herbs that would help to stop the bleeding and help his body to produce more blood. He would watch as the boy cleaned and dressed his wounds all the while picturing the boy before him ten years from now when his training would be completed. He had high hopes for his pupil. He had potential to be one of the finest their order had produced in centuries.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ingemar would look across from him at his aging mentor, streaks of Gray starting to form in his blond hair, his once chiseled body now starting to wrinkle from the passing years. Ingemar now stood at a proud height with his own body honed to perfection from years under this man's study and training. Green eyes were cold as they stared at his mentor and closest friend. A man that was more of a father to him then anything. He suppressed a pang in his heart as he watched him sensing every movement the man would make before he made them. He felt a small lump in his mind drawing him to the man, if he closed his eyes he knew he would be able to point to him even if he was on the other side of the world. He felt the pulling sensation drawing him to his mentor and the feeling of falling sand as if from an hourglass over his skin.
This was no diffrent from any other day of training that they have had over the last decade, but it was completely diffrent. As always his mentor stood before him with his blade in hand, more of an extension to his body then a weapon. He was a master at the use of the blade, but so was Ingemar. Neither man had drawn blood yet but with a grim determination he knew that all that would change in moments. Ingemar would move at his mentor with the grace and speed of a serpent about to strike his blade deflecting that of his master's as another blade flew from his left sleeve flying toward his old friends throat. He would stop himself from closing his eyes as he watched the blade pierce his friend's throat causing him to drop down to the ground struggling to breath. Ingemar would kneel down next to him, feeling the sands of time slip away as he did so, his hand moving to his friend's face closing his eyes as he watched his life blood drain away.
"The Raven Queen demands your soul old friend. With your death I take your place as a Hand of the Raven Queen." He would say, his tone dead and cold. His hand would pull the blade from the dying man's throat before he plunged it in to his mentor's heart. The man's last breath ending as the last grain of sand seemed to fall. The feeling in his mind drawing him to his mentor vanished and he was left alone with the body of his friend and the grim joy knowing that he finally made his mentor proud.
Looking down at the aged face he found himself surprised to find not sorrow at the end of his life or pain. But a serene joy of one who was finally going home after a long journey. He couldn't help but smile at seeing his friend finally sent to rest. His finger would move across the bloody blade covering his digit in blood which he would then proceed to draw the holy symbol of the Raven Queen on his mentor's forehead completing the ritual of ascension.
"May the Raven Queen welcome you home Father." He would say softly before making both blades vanish up his sleeves leaving the body in the courtyard where the clerics would take it for preparation of the ritual of consumption, a ritual where the soul is sent away and the body is consumed by ravens and dogs so that body and soul could not be turned in to abominations of the walking dead. Ingemar himself would unleash the dogs and ravens upon his body as a final gift to his friend before picking up where he left off as a Hand of the Raven Queen, a dispenser of justice. He would serve the Raven Queen with his life until he too picked a pupil and someday he too would die by the hand of his student passing on the mantel to yet another generation. One life ending as another life begins. It was the way of their order and a fate he had learned to accept a long time ago. A fate that will cause him to toil in life for many years before finally being able to rest in peace with death.
The boy would try and ignore the pain in his side but each breath was labored and caused him to grunt in pain. Clenching his toes he felt the soft sand that they stood on his own eyes frantically searching for a clue of what he was supposed to do. Time was running out and he knew it, he had to strike and strike soon or it would be over. The boy would launch himself at the man, his knife attempting to plunge deep in to the man's stomach.
The man however would move with the perfect grace of his trade and before the boy could blink the man's hand clutched his wrist preventing him from moving the blade so much as an inch, the already blood soaked blade was pressed against his throat. He could feel a small trickle of his lifeblood dripping down his skin as the cold steel cut through his flesh like silk. With a ragged breath his eyes would look up fearfully at the man that now held his life tightly in his hand. All he had to do was breath and the short life that the boy had lived would be over for good.
"You are lucky Ingemar, it is not yet your time to die. The Raven Queen does not demand your life yet." The man would say in a dull almost emotionless voice as he let the boy's wrist drop and removed the blade from his throat. Wiping the blood on his sleeve the man would make the blade vanish up his sleeve so fast that Ingemar almost had to wonder if it had ever left his sleeve in the first place.
Ingemar would drop down to his knees before pressing his forehead in to the dirt before his mentor in submission. He didn't dare look up and when he spoke his voice still trembled as blood slowly dripped on to the sand, neither man nor boy making any effort to stop the bleeding at the moment.
"My master, I will be a worthy tool for the Raven Queen. I am sorry I failed you today." He would say, a small sob wracking his body from the shame he felt mingled with the pain of his wounds. Tears started to glisten on the young boy's eyes as he chanced a quick look up at his master. He was startled to see that instead of scornful or emotionless blue eyes he say sympathy and understanding which was quickly followed by a small pat on the head.
"Ingemar you are still young and rash, ruled by your emotions. You must learn to control them all lest your hand be stayed by pity, lest your actions be dulled by fear, or pushed by anger." A meaningful glance following these words told Ingemar that his mentor had gone through just that as well, the words and small gesture of kindness made him swallow his tears and nod firmly as he stood up determined to make his mentor proud.
"Now come on lets tend to your wounds. You are still in training and thus the cleric's magic is not available to you. We need to treat you with herbs and bandages. Do you know why?" He would ask, his tone once again returned to that of the mentor and instructor. Quizzing his pupil on the reasons behind practice as the two of them left the training yard on their way to the infirmary.
Ingemar would nod slowly as he followed his mentor trying not to show the pain he felt with each breath. Using every ounce of strength he had to not stumble as he answered with his best effort to sound like his mentor.
"Because as a servant of the Raven Queen it is my duty to perform her will and to end the lives of those who would try and defy her will. Those that create an unbalance in the world by preserving or destroying life thus upsetting the natural balance of life and death. Because we are keepers of balance it is rare for the Raven Queen to grant her power to cure wounds with magic thus preserving life in a most unnatural manner. So we learn to be treated by natural remedies so that we may keep ourselves fit and able to follow her will without perverting the balance ourselves." He would say with a nod and a grin letting on how proud he was of his answer despite his best attempts to remain blank and unreadable.
"Very good Ingemar. But tell me, why is it bad to preserve life. Saving a life is a good deed and most gods honor that deed. Why then does ours scorn both those that save and destroy lives without discretion?" He would ask throwing his young pupil a harder question as they entered the infirmary.
This time Ingemar had to pause to think about his answer. This was a part of the doctrine that he had never understood or agreed with. He assumed it would make more sense when he was older and no longer just a child. But for the life of him he could see no evil in saving or preserving a life. After all they aimed to make the world a better place by eliminating imbalances, and while he understood mentally why it was a necessary evil his heart didn't accept it fully. He still felt that life was precious and that while it was right and just to kill a man for killing indiscriminately to do the same to a man for saving a village from destruction wasn't just. He couldn't accept in to his heart that preserving life could be a sin. Still he knew the answer that his mentor was looking for and he would give it in a dull and cold voice that sounded like it belonged on a man of 20 not a boy of 10.
"Preserving life is a sin because it upsets the balance of life and death. For one creature to live another must die. To save the deer would mean to kill the wolf whether it be by the sword or starvation. Ultimately one life will cancel out that of another. By doing that you are preventing the will of the Raven Queen, the goddess of death and weaver of fate. It is to preserve this balance and ultimately protect the lives of the truly innocent that we implement our Queen's judgment." He would say speaking the words that his heart didn't hold true.
By the time he finished his answer they would have arrived at their destination and his mentor would sit down in a chair watching as the young boy started to go through the supplies picking out the herbs that would help to stop the bleeding and help his body to produce more blood. He would watch as the boy cleaned and dressed his wounds all the while picturing the boy before him ten years from now when his training would be completed. He had high hopes for his pupil. He had potential to be one of the finest their order had produced in centuries.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ingemar would look across from him at his aging mentor, streaks of Gray starting to form in his blond hair, his once chiseled body now starting to wrinkle from the passing years. Ingemar now stood at a proud height with his own body honed to perfection from years under this man's study and training. Green eyes were cold as they stared at his mentor and closest friend. A man that was more of a father to him then anything. He suppressed a pang in his heart as he watched him sensing every movement the man would make before he made them. He felt a small lump in his mind drawing him to the man, if he closed his eyes he knew he would be able to point to him even if he was on the other side of the world. He felt the pulling sensation drawing him to his mentor and the feeling of falling sand as if from an hourglass over his skin.
This was no diffrent from any other day of training that they have had over the last decade, but it was completely diffrent. As always his mentor stood before him with his blade in hand, more of an extension to his body then a weapon. He was a master at the use of the blade, but so was Ingemar. Neither man had drawn blood yet but with a grim determination he knew that all that would change in moments. Ingemar would move at his mentor with the grace and speed of a serpent about to strike his blade deflecting that of his master's as another blade flew from his left sleeve flying toward his old friends throat. He would stop himself from closing his eyes as he watched the blade pierce his friend's throat causing him to drop down to the ground struggling to breath. Ingemar would kneel down next to him, feeling the sands of time slip away as he did so, his hand moving to his friend's face closing his eyes as he watched his life blood drain away.
"The Raven Queen demands your soul old friend. With your death I take your place as a Hand of the Raven Queen." He would say, his tone dead and cold. His hand would pull the blade from the dying man's throat before he plunged it in to his mentor's heart. The man's last breath ending as the last grain of sand seemed to fall. The feeling in his mind drawing him to his mentor vanished and he was left alone with the body of his friend and the grim joy knowing that he finally made his mentor proud.
Looking down at the aged face he found himself surprised to find not sorrow at the end of his life or pain. But a serene joy of one who was finally going home after a long journey. He couldn't help but smile at seeing his friend finally sent to rest. His finger would move across the bloody blade covering his digit in blood which he would then proceed to draw the holy symbol of the Raven Queen on his mentor's forehead completing the ritual of ascension.
"May the Raven Queen welcome you home Father." He would say softly before making both blades vanish up his sleeves leaving the body in the courtyard where the clerics would take it for preparation of the ritual of consumption, a ritual where the soul is sent away and the body is consumed by ravens and dogs so that body and soul could not be turned in to abominations of the walking dead. Ingemar himself would unleash the dogs and ravens upon his body as a final gift to his friend before picking up where he left off as a Hand of the Raven Queen, a dispenser of justice. He would serve the Raven Queen with his life until he too picked a pupil and someday he too would die by the hand of his student passing on the mantel to yet another generation. One life ending as another life begins. It was the way of their order and a fate he had learned to accept a long time ago. A fate that will cause him to toil in life for many years before finally being able to rest in peace with death.
