The Demon Gave His Word

((Early 2010 - Based on a Specific Roleplay.  The demons in question were targeting the Village of Ravenscraig to be destroyed, and they chose those of 'pure blood' to be a part of a ritual. Art was the first target.  To encourage the rp, and to bolster my backstory, I created this.))

“Pure of Light ushers in the Dark,” he said.

I am the pure of light now.  The dagger, long and twisted like a tree root, held over my arm; gleaming and harsh.  The eyes of the demon wide and near glowing in anticipation of what comes.  I fought the shackles on my wrists, kicked at the irons on the ankles, but they were too tight, too strong. 

“Pure of Light ushers in the Dark,” his brother repeated.

I closed my eyes, clenched my fists, pressed out my legs; it was all I could to fight this coming doom.  I growled and spat.  The cold stone scraped against my fighting back.  The cold moist air kept hanging the stench of decay coming from these two demons.  As the blade touched my skin and started to cut I can feel the warm liquid begin to flow from my arm to their cup, and I knew my end was near.  I was laid out like a pig for a slaughter; like so many animals I have hunted or farmed that I myself lay out and ended.  I could see them in my mind, the look in their eyes of fear – that guttural fear coming out of me now.  As I bled for these demons.

I am fear, and I am dread.  The pain was light, the blade being sharp and the cut was well calculated.  But that was my life being drained from me now, my end was near.  Recount, they taught us when I was young.  You must recount at your final minutes.

I am a Defender.  Tis just a few brief moments ago.  There was the ravine, where the demons surrounded me.  They said if I went with them they would not harm me, I made them promise to end their attack on the village.  The blue one gave his word.  I thought I was saving the village from harm.  That is why I was laid out.  I was trying to protect, trying to defend.

The cup is half full already, must not dwell on this – there is a whole life to recount; there are blessings I have done, things that I must accept that are good in my life.  Must recount what is good or I can not die in peace.  That is what my teachers taught me.

I am a farmer.  I did good deeds as a farmer.  That is what I do.  I tend the land.  But, I gut pigs and sheep for food or profit.  I am no better than those demons.  NO!  Recount.

They have their cup filled.  They repeat those words.

“Pure of Light ushers in the Dark.”

The blue one speaks, he says that this is a point in the symbol; that it has now begun.  The realization of all this starts to come to me.  It is like the journals, it is like the scroll Maryld showed me.  An army comes, their weapons of fear and dread; and there is little one can do to fight against that.  It starts with my blood.  It is me who has given the first of this.

Recount.  The end is drawing closer.  What was I before … I am a Governor, I tried to be the protector of Port Tarrund.  I tried to bring peace.  All there ever was brought war.  I could not protect it; I ran off the failure, the poor soul.  Tis a fool who thinks I could have protected Tarrund, the same bloody fool that thought one can protect this village.  Now I have doomed it.

NO!! RECOUNT, Bloody Recount.

These demons step away now, they leave me laid out like a lamb on an alter, awaiting its final bloodletting.  They discuss, and I can hear them.  One wants to slaughter me, the one of fire.  He also argues to offer me to the wampry who stood by and let me be bled.  The blue one talks of giving his word to me.  What word can you accept from a demon, my end comes, I know it is true. 

I am the doom to Ravenscraig.  I can only picture the village now, destroyed like these ruins here.  I can see people … friends … gutted like pigs; gutted like I will be soon.  It is at my hands, it is with my blood this happened.  If I can free myself, I must warn them what I saw; but I can not undo what I did.  If I can be free.  But I won’t be free, I will be dead soon.  Must recount.  Must find the good I have done.

I am a boy.  I think back to Kohlbae, and my youth.  Those that turn on the boy then were children themselves.  Those that hate the one that was not pale, was not light haired like a good child of Kohlbae; the boy’s red hair, tanned skin.  How one’s own grandparents made one feel hated, that there was no hope for him in this world.  That they could put hope in him, that he could be an elder some day – was a fool’s belief; as foolish as taking a demon’s word.  What could he be, the son of an outsider, a wild woman – she was no child of Kohlbae, so how could this boy be. 

They end their argument, the demons have made their decision, but I must recount, I have lost my senses.

She is the answer to all of this, isn’t she; the wild woman.  The gods made me think of her.  She is that peace for me.  She is what I should recount.  She is the one to remember when I die.  But I do not remember her face, she was run off before my first season was over.  How can I recount her.

They approach me again, the one with fire looking angry, but he keeps his distance.  The blue one approaches, his claws, his coldness.  This is it.

I close my eyes, and whisper quietly to the gods.  I ask them for this one chance – I can not recount, I am not ready to die.  They free me, I will find her.  They free me then it is the one great thing I could do, to let her see her son before she dies.  I make the promise to the gods.  Let me live, I promise I will tell the village all of this I have seen, and I promise I will find her.  I gave them my word.

The blue one reaches for my ankles.  Tis too late.

The irons are removed.

At my wrists, now, the shackles are free.

I am able to cover the cut, I am able to stop the bleeding, I am free to go.

The demon kept his word.

The demon makes one last demand, to keep this silent, to not tell.  But I am sure it was not the demons that let me live, but the gods.  And I promised them something else.

And I gave them my word.