Brohnins beginning

A Druid’s Beginnings
It began on a cool autumn night of an age long past, with the chill wind whipping his outer cloak about. Frost was beginning to form on the hard, dirt-packed road he was walking on, but that’s not all that was forming along the road. All the villagers from the surrounding towns heard of some horrendous beast that had been terrifying the good townsfolk, so they took up what they could find and were traveling on this road hunting for this so called "beast." And it just so happens that they were traveling towards him, what luck for him, eh? But he had other “qualities” that kept people away from him.
Right now he only wanted to find what he had lost, even if it meant killing anyone who got in his path. He really didn’t want to, even though he had already, and knowing what these villagers were after, he would probably have to once again, but he had a feeling that before his journey was over, many more would die by his blade.
Even though the group of villagers pressed onwards coming within sight of him, Brohnin stopped calmly, as if he didn’t even notice them. “Hey, wise guy! Why are you blocking our path?” A brave villager shouted as he stepped forwards from the mob. When the villager was responded to with silence so he spoke again, this time louder. “ Hey, I’m talking to you!”
“ My name is Brohnin, I wish no trouble of you folk unless you cause it. Now if you would only let me pass...” Brohnin said in a calm, yet firm tone that seemed to echo across the road.
“Hey, you’re the one blocking our path,” another of the villagers voiced out. Then Brohnin grabbed a hold of his cloak and threw it to the ground. What the villagers saw amazed them, this mysterious man looked so small, and it was as if he were transformed into this huge hulking beast of a man!
“You must be the horrible monster that’s been ravaging our villages!” said a man, but before he could say anything else, this so-called Brohnin had him raised off the ground, with his neck in his hand.
“I told you, that you were not to get in my way, and you have failed to comply…” Brohnin said, this time his voice sounded rough with anger, with a fiery passion in his eyes.
Suddenly, a makeshift spear whizzed by Brohnin’s face, and within that split second the villager’s body that was being held by the mysterious man dropped to the ground. With the villager’s head still in the Brohnin’s palm, blood starting to rush down his black metal gauntlet. At this point it seemed as if time had stopped, the villagers were struck with trepidation as they saw the head of that one brave villager drop to the ground, his face forever struck with the horror of this man.
As a gentle breeze blew across the road, the villagers broke out into a run away from the man, most of them not knowing where they were to go; they just knew they had to get away from this man named Brohnin. They knew they would remember this man, and remember to stray whenever the name was mentioned. They would go back to their villagers as if nothing had happened, just like they would never think this night had come to pass at all; for they would be too scared to even think about it.
Brohnin kneeled to the ground, and laid two coins over the man’s disembodied head, for a reason he couldn’t remember, except a little voice in his head told him to do so. Then he dug a hole near the side of the road, and laid the corpse in his grave, saying a prayer as he filled the grave back up with dirt.
After he was done with the task of burying the man, Brohnin bent down to pick up his cloak, this cloak would allow Brohnin to take the form of any human attribute he wished. But, that’s not what mattered at the moment. The man started to mutter to himself as he usually did to remind himself of the charges he placed upon himself.
“My name is Brohnin... That is all I can remember about myself. I awoke in a mountain range two years ago, for reasons unseen to my eyes, all that I had were the clothes on my back, this wretched sword that I carry, and a scroll, telling me where I must go to retrieve my memories...”
He repeated these events because he felt as if his time were coming to a close if he didn’t find his memories, and finally after these long two years Brohnin found a clue. He acquired information from a seer stating that there was a temple on the other side of the land that would be said to restore things people had lost. But that was not the only thing that troubled Brohnin’s mind. Every death he had played a part in was added to a list that ran through his head. By now the list was long enough that any normal man would have forgotten most of the names, yet Brohnin seemed to remember them all, even that of the man he had just killed, Antelo Mygora. He didn’t know how he knew his name, but he did and that was all that mattered.
Brohnin set off again deciding to take the forest so that he may not have to add another name to his list of deaths; the weight of the list was already almost to big a burden, even for him. He continued his trudge through the forest for another three days nonstop, with nothing to refuel his energy, it was as if he put his memories in front of his health. Finally, he reached a path; He couldn’t really call it a road for it looked as if it hadn’t been traveled for years. Although, it did have a sign that pointed down the road towards a town called Chakan. When he read this, that notorious voice in his head said, “Despair...” Well, perhaps that is what the name of this town means, but he wished it didn’t, even though that voice always seemed to be right when it spoke to him.
When he got close enough to the town to see the tops of the slate-roofed houses, he noticed many buzzards flying over the town as if waiting for something to eat. He didn’t think much of it, for he had seen much worse. When he entered the town he was greeted happily by many people who were hustling and bustling throughout the town all smiling and chatting with each other as if family. Brohnin tried to bring a smile to his face for every one of the folk that greeted him, but even so he tried to make his way to the closest inn, thinking he could get away from the commotion, but he was wrong.
The common room of the Inn, which just happened to be named the Smiling Lassie, was just as bad as the market outside! He managed to escape a couple of serving girls who asked if they could help him and went straight towards the innkeeper, a stout woman who’s smile never seemed to cease. “May I get a room please? I don’t care much for rates and where. I just want to go somewhere where I can rest quietly”
The innkeeper spoke with a hearty laugh, “ Oh, my my! You do look to be as if you haven’t seen the light of day for a year! I take pity on ye’ and will give ye’ one of me best rooms!”
“Why, thank you, but you don’t need to.....” Brohnin started to say, when the keeper yelled towards the kitchen.
“BONELOU, GIT YOUR HIND END OVER HERE! WE HAVE A CUSTOMER WHO NEEDS TO BE SHOWN TO HIS ROOM!”
After the outburst, a small, fragile-looking serving girl appeared beside Brohnin, perky and as pretty as she could be.
“ May I take you bags, sir?” the girl asked in a soft melancholy tone.
“Sorry miss, but I don’t have any bags for you to take, but if you wouldn’t mind showing me to my rooms, that would be kindly appreciated.” Brohnin replied in a tone as pleasant he could muster.
The girl then took the man by his hand and rushed him up the stairs to his room. When he arrived he realized that he was on the fourth floor of the inn, but the higher the better, he thought to himself as he proceeded to put most of his belongings by his bed, how little he owned that is. For he only put his broadsword that was strapped to his back on the bed, and a couple of purses of coin in that chest. And all that was left was the cloak that allowed him this small average-looking appearance and his brace of throwing knives in both of his sleeves.
After re-equipping himself, he set off again in search of some information, starting in the Smiling Lassie’s very own common room. He glided down to the common room as if nothing were out of place. So he set off going from table to table, inn to inn buying drinks, playing dice, dancing with the serving girls. Every time he asked a question, they all gave him the same answer! “ Who cares about a stinking shrine off in the middle of nowhere! Enjoy the time you are having here. This place is almost perfect!”

By the time it got dark, he was sick of hearing the same answer all night to every question, and of every ones ecstatically faces; you’d think it’s a Feast Day or something! Even when he returned to his rooms he was greeted by the other patrons with more smiles! It was almost dawn and everyone was still acting as if someone were passing out free sweets with every ale they bought! He was to the point where he was screaming out loud, “Am I going mad?”
He ran to his room and suddenly fell to the bed in exhaustion, but Brohnin was already asleep before he hit the soft feather pillow. His head began to swirl with colors and images began to flash in his head. First all the deaths he had caused or seen flashed through his skull, and then ones he didn’t even remember, except he was watching every image from another’s point of view as if he were spiritually disembodied. With all this happening, he barely heard the voice in his head saying, “You wield power that is unimaginable. Use it to rid yourself of this illusion...”With the image’s beginnings to blur, he was able to make out a desolate town with a beautiful woman hovering over his body, with blood on her lips. Everything then went black.
When Brohnin finally came to, he sat upright in his bed in a cold sweat. Everything looked different in the room now, except where his belongings were placed the morning before. The paint was chipped, the bed he was lying on was broken, the sheets were tattered and torn. He saw bones of small animals all around. He was so startled he jumped up and reached for his broadsword, unsheathing it in a smooth solid motion. Brohnin then ran to the window and looked out to see what else had gone amiss. But the real question was, not what had gone amiss, but what hadn’t? The whole town of Chakan was utterly bare; no one was even alive! All he saw was the rotting bones of people scattered about the road, with buzzards picking at what little flesh was left on their bodies.
“ What is going on?” Brohnin yelled out into the open, wondering what could have happened in the short time he was asleep.
He grabbed all his things off the small chest and was hurtling himself down the sets of stairs, only to see the common room in a way he wouldn’t even thought to have been possible... He was still running out of what used to be the Smiling Lassie , when he noticed the innkeeper was still at the bar, washing glasses with that ridiculous smile on her face. He was even more surprised when she spoke, “ Why hello, you sure slept late, didn’t you?”
“What’s going on here! Why has everything changed so much since last night!” Brohnin questioned with a harsh tone.
“Oh it’s always been like this dear. You just have been so blind to recover your memories that you easily fell into my trap,” the innkeeper said in a calm, collected tone of voice.
Brohnin began to scream, “ How is this possible. This can’t have always been like this! I mean everyone was always cheerful!
“My, my. I guess you haven’t recovered even a scrap of your old self.. This might be too easy.” said the innkeeper.
After the innkeeper finished cleaning her current glass, she set it down, walked out from behind the bar, and stopped. Her once smooth voice screeched throughout the inn, and she fell to the floor, writhing as if she were in pain. But in this pain, she began to change. She began to claw at her skin as if she were infected, and Brohnin was amazed as he watched her skin begin to fall to the old wooden floor. After this odd ritual she stood up from the floor and then tore off her own face, or at least a mask that looked like the innkeeper. Now when she looked at Brohnin, she had piercing black, colorless eyes that seemed to seep into his soul. And the broom mutated into a staff with a glowing black orb on its tip. “Well, my pretty, now that you’ve seen my true form, I must kill you, not that I wasn’t before, but even more so now.”
For once in these last couple of days, Brohnin knew what must be done. He said nothing to this witch, threw down his cloak, and unsheathed his broadsword. But, apparently she didn’t like this, for she lunged at him, and her staff and his sword met with surprising speed from Brohnin.
“I see that you have retained your old body at least. Well, that will make this kill even more fun.”
This witch may have been talking like fighting Brohnin was a walk in the park, but she was starting to sweat and eventually Brohnin got her pushed back into the open street where there was more room to handle his sword. This was however an advantage to this witch as well, for she elevated into the air, and summoned up a ball of energy, big enough to crush a square block of this town, much more than she thought she needed to defeat this shell of a man. When the ball was released, it rushed towards Brohnin with amazing speed, and he met the energy head on with his sword. The energy was almost too much for the sword to handle, for the dark metal was beginning to resonate as if about to shatter, also forcing Brohnin to lose his ground on the witch. But Brohnin struck back with a move that even baffled the witch. He split his sword in two and sliced the ball as if it were paper!
“If you can’t take on something alone, then why not divide and conquer?” he said with a smug look on his face.
The witch seemed amazed that the sword had split apart with so much ease! How could it not have split apart before when it had been hammered upon relentlessly? She was even more baffled when the swords began to glow like a blue beacon in the dark, has he finally uncovered a part of his past? She wondered to herself in an outrage.
To tell the truth, Brohnin was just as amazed as the witch was, because he had never known the sword could do that either, but he was glad, otherwise he would have been in real trouble. Brohnin began to feel his hands get warm, not warm as in a sense of heat, but warm as in a sense of power. He was desperate to beat this witch, so he willed this power into his twin swords and hurled them at the witch. As the sword flew through mid air, they connected at the hilt and changed appearance entirely. They had become a weapon that was not his in any means, but it was born of his power. This double-sided katana struck the witch before she could put up a mental barrier, and severed her upper body from the lower, this sword then continued in a boomerang motion and flew back to his hand. When he felt his touch on the hilt, it changed back to the sword he knew.
He walked towards the witch knowing she would die, so he must ask quickly, “ Where is this shrine that I am seeking? I know you know, or else you wouldn’t have bothered to try and stop me.”
“ This place that you seek, it is not far from here, but you might not like your true memories if you do have them returned to you. You are more dangerous than you can imagine. I should know that one for a fact, since you were able to best me.” the witch said, her head glancing to her lower torso not far from where the rest of her lay.
“ Thank you witch. Now tell me your name, for I will give you the proper peace that you require, even though you have not earned it...” Brohnin said calmly holding her bloodied hand.
“ My name is Serkuna Nervin, and I .................” blood started to pour from her mouth as she tried to speak the rest, and her dark eyes had a glossy fixed look on her face, At that moment he knew she was dead.
Brohnin spent a little time to bury the woman right by the inn, with the irony being the witch was buried with a smile upon her face. He gathered what he could from the town, such as any water or food that was salvageable and then walked away from the town without looking back.
He felt odd as he trekked on through this forest because it was strange feeling so close to his goal after so long. Once again he set his grueling pace at not stopping, hunting on the run, and ceasing only for fresh water. After two weeks he finally reached his destination. It was a large black and white spiraled obelisk that reached into the clouds. He walked around the obelisk examining it to see if there were any stairs or a ladder to make the way up, but there was not. Faced with this current predicament, he sat against the obelisk thinking about what to do. He soon fell asleep leaning against this topless tower. In his dreams that voice that consulted him seemed like an old friend, even closer to him now than ever.
“Please, whoever you are, give me the means to climb this tower...” Brohnin silently voiced..
He was surprised when the voice answered back.” There are no given implements, so you must use your own to scale this endless object. None of your magic can be used for it was not your magic that has gotten you this far. It was your own skills.”
Brohnin woke once again, disoriented. He remembered his encounter with the voice. “se your own implements to scale the tower.” What does that mean? He checked himself and the only items that could be useful were his swords and his long knives, but wait! He could strap his knives to his shoes and hold two more in his hands and then scale the object! The knives would dig into the tower and give the leverage to climb!

He then began this climb, and long this climb was. For it seemed that the tower was neverending. He was down to his last set of knives for all the others had begun to dull to where they wouldn’t dig into the tower. After this rigorous climb he began to wear out, his muscles becoming water, his mind wearing to where he was only thinking about climbing one limb at a time. Finally, he reached an edge. He wasn’t sure how but he didn’t care. He reached the top, “I has reached his goal!” He walked towards a dome on this plateau. He drew closer, he felt power coming from the dome. when entered this dome, the voice in his head told him to insert his sword into the stone. Brohnin did not hesitate. He unsheathed his mighty sword and wrenched it into the rock down to the hilt. The moment he did this, a glow surrounded him.
This glow produced a power that entered his veins, flowed throughout his entire body as if it were an ocean. Yet, he did not feel the pain because the voice in his head separated from his body, gaining a form of its own. Fighting through the power he saw the man before him.... It was himself! The man spoke, “ You may be surprised at what you see, but believe it. We are one and the same. When I go back into your body, you will have all my memories and powers, yet they are yours to wield and they have always been yours. For we are the last of our kind. We are a Druid, a keeper of peace to this world. Are you ready to accept your charge? To accept this immense being that is really yourself?”
Even more power began to flow through Brohnin, now the excess power crackling around him in white-hot strings of lightning, striking out from his body and attacking the tower as if it were a magnet. And through all this pain, all this agony Brohnin screamed out as if it were his last word, “ YYYYYYEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSS!”
Then, as if nothing happened, he was back on the ground, his clothes in tatters except his cloak. And where the obelisk had stood there was only the stone that held his sword. He could then stand with ease he figured out. After walking to his sword, he pulled it out of the stone. The sword now shone with a gleam as if the blade was brand new. But it slipped into its sheath with incredible ease, and Brohnin looked towards the sky, and said, “ My name is Brohnin. I now remember who I am, I am the last of the Druids and I will protect this earth with my magic and this blade!” And with that an orb of fire surrounded him, and then he was gone, nothing left but the scorched ground to mark the Druid’s passing. So ends the Origin of Brohnin, but in the end a new legend is always born.