—Official Submission— FROM: General Debinani Rahl RE: Chapter Nine - Sandoval”s Story
***The story of Lord Sandoval***
Pain…
Blood…
Death…
Madness…
The evil is everywhere…
Like a cancer it eats away at our souls. The gates of Hell stand open,
spewing forth it’s venomous, disease ridden filth upon the land.
Britania, my home, stands chest deep in the blood of the righteous.
The evil feeds and grows with each passing second.
I must stop it.
It started so long ago…
A thousand years past, a stranger from the stars defeated Mondain,
shattering the gem of immortality and freed our land from the
darkness. He left our world, never to return. Years later, a
darker evil struck. Minax, the enchantress took hold on Sosaria.
Her rule lasted hundreds of years. Again, one man stood against
the evil. The Great Lord Sandoval struck her down in a battle that
cost him his life. The martyred warrior lives on only in stories
and the songs of Bards, and few at that. The stories were told to
me by my mother when I was a young child.
I was born Gabriel Ki Kalendeen, in what was once the town of Paws,
which used to lie to the southwest of the great city of Britain.
Paws has since been swallowed by the great city and is now under
the protection of Lord British’s guards. This was not always the
case, however. Back in the days of my youth, we lived apart from
the city, making and enforcing our own laws.
As I stated previously, my mother, Aryana Ki Kalendeen, was a master
Bard, well traveled and very knowledgable about our land and it’s
people. With her words, she painted beautiful pictures of our world,
full of color and life in every detail. My father, Alexander Ki
Kalendeen, was a miner. During the long days of summer, he would
take me with him to the west, at Miner’s Pass. While digging for
the precious ore that sustained our family, I would watch the caravans
traverse the narrow valley, filled with items from Yew and Skara Brae.
In the evening, my mother would tell us the stories of old, and instruct
me in the art of archery. I can still hear her voice this day.
“If you ever travel the lands, you will meet many an opponent who
desires what you carry. The world is full of rouges, bandits, and
murderers. If they catch you, they will kill you. But first, they
must catch you. Keep you distance, and you will keep your life.”
How right she was, about everything. The night I returned from the
pass and found their bloodied and broken bodies among the ransacked
remains of our house shall stay with me forever. Everything I knew
was destroyed, and for what? An old bow? A few ingots? Or just
for the thrill of killing? I may never know. Had I been there, I
may have stopped them. Had I been there, the killers may have been
brought to justice. Had I been there… If only I could have been
there…
When I burried their bodies by the sea, a part of me was burried
with them… Who I was, where I came from, and all that I had in
life. Gabriel Ki Kalendeen was burried that day with his beloved
parents. Crying softly, I swore by my blood that they would be
avenged. But how? I was but a simple miner’s apprentice with small
skills in archery. I had but 100 gold pieces to my name and the
mining equipment and practice bow I had taken with me to the pass?
I prayed to God for answers.
Kneeling by the grave on that cold, rainy night, a transformation
took place. My hands trembled and every muscle in my body
clenched so tightly that blood began to pour from my eyes, ears
and nose. I let out an anguished scream that tore from my throat
and rang across the land. When I came to my senses, something
had changed. Physically, I was the same, but when I walked to the
water and saw my moon-lit reflection, someone else’s eyes looked
back at me.
Laughter echoed through the night, along with several mocking
immitations of my scream. I stalked closer, the scent of evil
filling my nostrils. It was so strong, like decaying meat on
a hot summer’s day. I followed. Soon, I came upon a small camp.
Three men sat around a fire, laughing. One of them poked the
fire with his sword, another was making a poor attempt at playing
a lute, while the third sat in a drunken stupor. I gazed at the
lute, illuminated by the amber glow of the fire. It was my mother’s!
Fear should have filled me, but it didn’t. I wanted to rip their
throats out and be sprayed by their spewing blood. I waited…
After a time, the drunken man stood up. “I’s got ta go make water,
lads. Be back in a shake,” he said. He staggered in my direction.
I held still, not daring to breath. He picked the tree next to me
and began to relieve himself, setting down his heavy crossbow.
Reaching into my pack, I pulled out my dagger.
There was a quick flash of steel across his throat, reflecting in the
moon light. He let out a gurgling scream and fell to his knees, blood
and urine spraying the tree. The sounds from the camp stopped.
“Trevor? You okay?” asked one of the men. The wooden clack of my
newly acquired cross bow echoed through the night, and the man dropped,
a bolt protruding from his grimy forehead. The third man turned to run.
I darted after him, trying my best to reload the cross bow. Luck was
with me. Aiming in his direction, I stopped and fired. The bolt
whistled and struck, his sweet, anguished cries filling my ears. I
walked towards the screaming. My bolt had struck the back of his
leg, right above the knee. Rolling around on the ground in pain, he
tried to pull the bolt free, snapping it. Upon seeing me, he reached
for his dagger. I stepped on his hand, standing over him. A look of
horror filled his eyes as I reloaded the crossbow and pointed it at
him. He began to cry.
“Please, sir. Don’t kill me!” he begged. I stared into his eyes,
wondering if my parents had begged for their lives earlier that day.
I felt cold inside, holding no pity or remorse. Slowly, I raised
cross bow to his chest. He cried out one last time as the bolt pierced
his heart.
It was a good begining, but my work had just begun. I will rid the
land of evil and will not stop until the gates of hell are closed.
Since then, I have taken the name of Lord Sandoval, the Avenger of
old. I have traveled the land searching evil, find it everywhere.
Ogres, troll, and orcs inhabit the forests. Everywhere is death
and decay.
Through my quest, I have made many friends who share a common goal.
I have joined their guild, The Black Rose Society. Through them,
my resolve has been strengthened. I have seen too many of my guild
brothers and sisters cut down by the cowardly evil that attacks in
numbers. Terre LoveGrove, Lazarus Shade, ShadowSpawn, Thanos…
The names go on and on. Their lives shall be avenged and I shall
bathe in the blood of their murderers!
Candy Bytch, Sephiroth, Rygar, Wilson, Avatar, and all those who
prey upon the innocent, Your days are numbered! Now you shall see
why you fear the night! I am coming for you…