11-03-2008, 06:32 AM
[Unmarked dirt road, middle of nowhere]
Brandon trudged on, his heavy smithing maul slung over his shoulder, his meager possessions in a worn leather bag on his back. Three days he's walked, without food or water, yet he pressed on. As he did so, the events that drove him on ran through his mind.
****
He was a simple smith, running a forge with his brother and father on the outskirts of a small village. Even at a young age, he was as strong as an oxen, and as fast as a wolf. No one knew why, but no one asked. Even at seventeen, he was the strongest at his family forge. Also being the fastest, he often delivered the weapons they made to the purchasers, and that day was no exception.
He ran there, delivered the weapon, and was running back, when he noticed smoke on the horizon. Worried, he pushed on, hoping everything was okay. When he got there, his jaw dropped.
The forge that him, his father and his brother built with their own hands, was nothing more than smouldering bits of wood. The mighty stone hearth which pumped out some of the finest weapons ever seen was smashed to rubble. He dropped to his knees, shocked at seeing his entire life's work gone.
After locating what was left of his family, he gave them a sad, quiet burial. At a loss, he began to look around, for anything. A few demon bodies indicated who did it, but, he was too saddened to care. Then, he saw it, written in the ashes, next to his smithing hammer, a lone word.
Villnore.
He picked up his maul, and gathered what he could, thankful that the demons didn't find their hidden stash of gold coins. Stuffing his smithing equipment, a few unburnt pieces of clothing, and what gold he could into a leather bag, he headed into town, to purchase more supplies.
Something told him to go to Villnore. Something urged him on.
****
Once in town, he saw that his home wasn't the only building hit by the demons. Several stores, homes, even the village orphanage was hit. There, he met the spastic but likeable Street Magician, which he came to know as a good friend. The scale of the destruction and murder was bordering on massive, as he walked up to the magician.
"Looks like the Gods didn't spare anyone." He said sadly, as he stepped up behind Ray.
OOC: me and Ray planned this part out last night.
Brandon trudged on, his heavy smithing maul slung over his shoulder, his meager possessions in a worn leather bag on his back. Three days he's walked, without food or water, yet he pressed on. As he did so, the events that drove him on ran through his mind.
****
He was a simple smith, running a forge with his brother and father on the outskirts of a small village. Even at a young age, he was as strong as an oxen, and as fast as a wolf. No one knew why, but no one asked. Even at seventeen, he was the strongest at his family forge. Also being the fastest, he often delivered the weapons they made to the purchasers, and that day was no exception.
He ran there, delivered the weapon, and was running back, when he noticed smoke on the horizon. Worried, he pushed on, hoping everything was okay. When he got there, his jaw dropped.
The forge that him, his father and his brother built with their own hands, was nothing more than smouldering bits of wood. The mighty stone hearth which pumped out some of the finest weapons ever seen was smashed to rubble. He dropped to his knees, shocked at seeing his entire life's work gone.
After locating what was left of his family, he gave them a sad, quiet burial. At a loss, he began to look around, for anything. A few demon bodies indicated who did it, but, he was too saddened to care. Then, he saw it, written in the ashes, next to his smithing hammer, a lone word.
Villnore.
He picked up his maul, and gathered what he could, thankful that the demons didn't find their hidden stash of gold coins. Stuffing his smithing equipment, a few unburnt pieces of clothing, and what gold he could into a leather bag, he headed into town, to purchase more supplies.
Something told him to go to Villnore. Something urged him on.
****
Once in town, he saw that his home wasn't the only building hit by the demons. Several stores, homes, even the village orphanage was hit. There, he met the spastic but likeable Street Magician, which he came to know as a good friend. The scale of the destruction and murder was bordering on massive, as he walked up to the magician.
"Looks like the Gods didn't spare anyone." He said sadly, as he stepped up behind Ray.
OOC: me and Ray planned this part out last night.
The last mutt standing.
The one and only, Cowboy from Hell.
******
Bury me with my guns on,
So when I reach the other side,
I can show him what it feels like to die.
I can show him what it feels like to die.
Bury me with my guns on,
So when I'm cast out of the skies,
I can shoot the Devil right between the eyes.
