I'll be releasing this in parts, or chapters.. Please enjoy. Constructive critisism appriciated, Raving ranting and telling me how awesome i am are also.. (j/k)
Part 1
My name, at least my Elven name, is Tulanacor. But you can call me Tradion. This⦠This is my story, at least the parts that truly matter.
I always knew I was different from the other kids. They all enjoyed the daily routine, wake up, go to class, go home, study. What a bore. The only class I was interested in was swordsmanship.
I was born in a small town, just south of Kray Eldorad, right next to the Temple of Felewyn actually. Years came, years went, and it wasnât until the night before my fourteenth birthday that life got truly⦠Exciting.
I donât remember the grandeur details of the day, but, I do remember when I got home. Slowly walking through the door, I crept up to my parentâs bedroom, they were asleep. My fatherâs blade hung in its sheath on the wall. Gently I walked across the floor, quietly I lifted the sheath from its hook. I snuck away from the room, just as carefully as I had snuck in.
I recall having a face filled with glee as I ran into the forest. My father never let me touch his blade. âNo son, youâll hurt yourself.â Or âSwords are not toys to be played around with.â Maybe he was right.
I recall wanting some real practice with a blade, not the wooden ones we used in class. Sadly, there just wasnât enough excitement in the forest. I grumbled my way home, pissed off at the world. I should have known before hand. Nothing worth killing ever comes into the forest⦠Nothing at all.
I donât remember why, but I decided that I was going to sleep with my fatherâs blade that night. Maybe it was fate. The vivid dream, the screams, the moans⦠The blood.
Iâm not sure what happened, but when I regained consciousness my father and mother were dead on the floor. I was still holding the blade, and it was hilt deep in my fatherâs chest. Mother had been slit at the throat.
Violent, angrily violent, I ran out of the house, rushed to the Temple of Felewyn. Why did she make me do it? How did it happen? What cruel twist was this?
I began slashing at the statue, not paying any mind to my surroundings. I must have awoken the temple Priests. Three of the Priests came stumbling out, still in their night clothing. âTulanacor, what is this.â
âWhy did she make me do it! Why!â I cried out, furious.
âCome child, please. Drop your weapon come with us.â They replied.
âNo! I.. I⦠I know what must be done.â I said with as stutter, my voice growing ever deeper.
"Felewyn will pay for this hurt, she will pay for this pain she has put me through.â I shouted, charging the priests, blade held high above my head. A downward stroke, the first Priest falling lifelessly to the ground. A second slash and the Priest who stood next to him was beheaded.
I pointed the sword at the third Priest. âLet them know⦠Let them all know. Tradion did this. Tradion killed your head Priest. Tradion will make Felewyn suffer.â
Part 1
My name, at least my Elven name, is Tulanacor. But you can call me Tradion. This⦠This is my story, at least the parts that truly matter.
I always knew I was different from the other kids. They all enjoyed the daily routine, wake up, go to class, go home, study. What a bore. The only class I was interested in was swordsmanship.
I was born in a small town, just south of Kray Eldorad, right next to the Temple of Felewyn actually. Years came, years went, and it wasnât until the night before my fourteenth birthday that life got truly⦠Exciting.
I donât remember the grandeur details of the day, but, I do remember when I got home. Slowly walking through the door, I crept up to my parentâs bedroom, they were asleep. My fatherâs blade hung in its sheath on the wall. Gently I walked across the floor, quietly I lifted the sheath from its hook. I snuck away from the room, just as carefully as I had snuck in.
I recall having a face filled with glee as I ran into the forest. My father never let me touch his blade. âNo son, youâll hurt yourself.â Or âSwords are not toys to be played around with.â Maybe he was right.
I recall wanting some real practice with a blade, not the wooden ones we used in class. Sadly, there just wasnât enough excitement in the forest. I grumbled my way home, pissed off at the world. I should have known before hand. Nothing worth killing ever comes into the forest⦠Nothing at all.
I donât remember why, but I decided that I was going to sleep with my fatherâs blade that night. Maybe it was fate. The vivid dream, the screams, the moans⦠The blood.
Iâm not sure what happened, but when I regained consciousness my father and mother were dead on the floor. I was still holding the blade, and it was hilt deep in my fatherâs chest. Mother had been slit at the throat.
Violent, angrily violent, I ran out of the house, rushed to the Temple of Felewyn. Why did she make me do it? How did it happen? What cruel twist was this?
I began slashing at the statue, not paying any mind to my surroundings. I must have awoken the temple Priests. Three of the Priests came stumbling out, still in their night clothing. âTulanacor, what is this.â
âWhy did she make me do it! Why!â I cried out, furious.
âCome child, please. Drop your weapon come with us.â They replied.
âNo! I.. I⦠I know what must be done.â I said with as stutter, my voice growing ever deeper.
"Felewyn will pay for this hurt, she will pay for this pain she has put me through.â I shouted, charging the priests, blade held high above my head. A downward stroke, the first Priest falling lifelessly to the ground. A second slash and the Priest who stood next to him was beheaded.
I pointed the sword at the third Priest. âLet them know⦠Let them all know. Tradion did this. Tradion killed your head Priest. Tradion will make Felewyn suffer.â