Vharkas Grey: A Second Chance

"...And for the murder of Lord Gabriel Altigar, Lady Catherin Altigar, and their son Vincent, you have received the sentence of two months at the House of Black Ages, and immediately upon release execution. Having served your sentence to the full, I now sentence you to death by decapitation. Do you have any last words?"

The crowd was only a handful. The sad and lonely townsfolk with nothing better to do on a rainy day than to watch a man get his head cut off. The faces looked in morbid interest. There were women he knew. He had known many women in this town. There were whispers of "Such a shame. So pretty a lad." There was a silence in wait for the mans answer.

The wounds from the school of Torturers still ached across his entire body. He felt like a child under the weight of the ropes that bound him. There, in the rain, on his knees, neck resting heavy against the polished wooden rack, looking down into the basket of white dust, his life flashed before his eyes.

The childhood full of fear. Dark shadows of his cruel mother. The death of his Father in the Northern war. The first time he was caught stealing to feed his hungry sister. The day he learned to play the flute. The strumpets and wandering servants he had taken to bed time and time again. The nights alone at the tavern, drowning in the bottom of his cups. So many deep and forgotten thoughts rushed through his senses like a river of his empty legacy. He was nobody. It all came to a blurry halt as he recalled the blood on his hands and blade. The way the woman and boy cried for their husbands life. He had felt no mercy that night. Lord Altigar had killed his sister. His beloved beautiful sister who had been a ray of light in his empty life. Run down by the Lordlings speeding wagon. She was dead instantly.

Suddenly he was back on the platform, being gawked at by the urchins of his cobblestone burial ground. Tears burned his cheeks and his legs ached from supporting his hunched frame for too long. He suddenly wanted to live. His life had been a waste, and if he was given just one more chance at life he wouldn't be a nobody. He would live on and remember his beloved sister. He would live for her. He knew he could make a difference in the world, but no one would help him now. He was a killer. His life was over.

"I ask for the last time. Any last words before Ilmater guides you to the next life?" The towering axeman hefted his huge weapon in readiness.

There was just a moment of complete silence. His mouth moved and all leaned in to listen. It was so weak and silent in the rain...

"Just give me another chance. I'll do anything...Someone...Please..."

"May the Gods place mercy at your feet, lost one." With a gesture from the priest, the axe plummeted downward, cutting the air and the rain.

Then it stopped. The smoking wooden handle of the axe clanked against the wooden platform as the axeman's huge frame crumbled to sizzling ashes. The priests body caved in on itself like a wilted flower. The onlookers fell to the ground, dead as stone. He could feel the ropes that bound him slither off of his limbs. They felt like snakes. His heart stopped in terror. What in the nine hells had happened?

He hefted himself to his feet and in a panic looked for answers in the heavy downfall. There on the road before him, concealed by fog and shadow stood a thin towering figure. Two hot yellow eyes glared our from under his dark hooded cloak, looking through his soul and taking his mind apart. His voice cut at his ears like a freezing wind, and it echoed as though from miles below ground.

"You have called for help human, and it is I who have answered. You will be granted a second chance at life, and your purpose will be as I tell you. You will forever be my servant, and for this your heart will continue beating. You are to travel North to the Green Wild. You will seek out a young elf named Alkadian Entaris Beldier III. His path will become your path. You will fight for him at all cost, and you will guide him into the shadows he seeks. If you stray from this task you will die, and your soul will be forever mine to consume. The man you were is dead. Go now by the name Vharkas Grey, and lend your life to the goals of my child. So speaks Velsharoon, and so shall it be done."

And all at once he was gone. Vharkas stood there alone on the wooden platform in shock. All those around him were dead, and crumbling in the rain. Embedded into the ground before him was a gleaming black shortsword. He looked around, as though looking through new eyes. He felt...strong. He felt able. Far off in the distance he could hear a wonderful music. He looked to the heavens, and with rain splashing his face he cried out in joy. He had little to no memory of his past life. He looked once more to the sword and decided to turn away from it. He was done with killing.

He took only three steps before he felt his heart seize in pain inside his chest. He took one more step and his head began to swim in agony. Looking back to the blade he felt his heart again flutter lightly. It seemed he had no choice. He would go North. He would serve his new master. Taking what he could carry, including the ebony blade, he set off on what would prove to be lesson in survival.