The Final Dawn

The Final Dawn


“Another easy one,” Devlin said to himself as he started back toward Gyson. He just started his trek back and he could already feel the feather bed and taste the beer from Uncle Billy’s Inn. Uncle Billy’s was just a short walk from his home, so he drowned himself in alcohol a lot, and usually had to stay at the inn for it, since there were more guards that occupied the village. Apparently, they didn’t understand that Devlin could take care of the village by himself. After all, he did just defeat fifty orcs not five minutes ago all by his self.

However, these orcs were better trained, and probably are finally getting halfway decent training in Kar’thul, the city of orcs in the Northern Mountains. At least, that’s what Devlin kept blaming it on. He knew he was getting old, and he didn’t like it.

Devlin was 357 years old. He’s the only surviving knight from the Dwarf Wars 200 years ago. The Dwarf Wars were a series of civil wars that took a little more than sixty years to resolve. It all started because a damned dwarf senator challenged the king of the dwarves for not giving him his share of the commoners taxes. After that little message, the dwarf people figured out where there taxes were going, and ended the senator’s life. So the king sent his army out to calm the commoners down, which only fueled there anger more, and eventually, a war started. All of a sudden, all of the dwarf kingdoms figured out where there tax money was going, and many wars started. When the wars started, Devlin was a young mercenary, who just happened to be passing by a battle between a very angry farmer’s village and the king’s army, when he found a mother that couldn’t find her child. He found him, and pretty much wiped out a good chunk of the dwarf armies while he was at it.

After that, King Clan from Alexandria got word of Devlin’s power against the dwarves, and encouraged him to join his army, as a captain immediately. After Devlin found out how much the pay was, he quickly agreed. He’s been a knight ever since, and even stayed a captain, because he never wanted to become famous with the people.

The Dwarf Wars ended, and by then, Devlin was eighty. Too old, he thought, to do anything else but die. He started to settle down to wait for his death. Then his grandfather, also named Devlin, came to him, and told him, “Although you’re human as I am, I’ve lived so long because of my father’s magic. If you want it, you will never be able to die from natural causes. Only the blade or bow of your enemy can slay you after today if you take my offer.” Devlin immediately took this new power with open arms.

He then crafted his own armor, to look powerful in the eyes of his enemies. He looked young again, and strength that he thought failed him returned again. To represent his replenished life, he carved and painted a phoenix on his breastplate, then created a blade that resembled a phoenix’s wing. His power was not just looks. He backed it up with raw power and an amazing killing sense in battle.

For the next 220 years or so, he continued to do work for the king. He never got to do anything exciting that often, as there was a time of peace after The Dwarf Wars ended. Only the occasional rant from a villager he had to purge. That is until the orcs of Kar’thul moved in to the Northern Mountains.

Devlin found himself fighting orc after orc, a new kind of enemy. An enemy with mindless anger, brute strength, and since battle was all they knew, they weren’t too bad at it. However, life started to bore Devlin.

The same things happened everyday. It seemed he never stopped fighting. He stopped making friends, because they would all just vanish without him after a few years. This also led to him giving up his own captain rank to become a mercenary again, still working for the king however. He could fight like no one else, so he always took his fight straight to the front lines. He destroyed fifty orcs today, and it was simple. Fifty giants aren’t even enough to harm Devlin.

Devlin’s mind came back to the current time, and he immediately thought of the number fifty. The meeting two days ago with the king informed him that there would be at least 200 orcs waiting here for him. “A distraction,” Devlin thought? “The orcs aren’t that smart.” However, Devlin heeded the warning in his head and ran back toward Gyson. The sun was coming out. “Good, now every orc will see death manifest before there eyes before they die,” Devlin told himself with a grin. He got to Gyson at noon.

Devlin saw hell. It was noon, and yet the sun couldn’t touch the village. Black smoke covered the air. All Devlin saw was red flame, ash, and orcs torturing villagers. He saw Uncle Billy himself die before his eyes. He couldn’t stand it, he wanted to kill, go on an endless spree against orc and watch them die. The only problem was this was many more than 250 orcs. He saw thousands. Devlin didn’t care. He ran at the first orc he saw and stabbed it right through the stomach with his wing blade. The orc stopped moving immediately, just staring at Devlin with sad eyes. He watched the orc’s drool turn red, and then pulled his sword out of it and pushed him to the ground. He went on a furious rampage, gaining revenge against the orc that killed Uncle Billy, gladly slicing it’s head off.

However, Devlin’s rampage blocked his senses, and he didn’t see the orc archer pulling his bowstring back. An arrow pierced his back. He immediately fell to the ground. Orc after orc tackled him to try and keep him down, but Devlin shook and stabbed and punched until every orc that touched him was dead. He stood up, reached back, and pulled the arrow out from his back. He needed no bow, he merely tossed the arrow and it flew straight into the culprit’s head. However, his injury hindered his senses even more. His vision turned red from the pain and anger, and soon he started making mistakes.

Only a little bit later he was surrounded by at least fifty orcs. He sliced the first two he saw in half, which was followed by two stab wounds to Devlin. One in the side, and one in the arm. It was too painful. He knew this was it. The world was no longer his problem. All the king’s he served will be here soon. His grandfather and Arethnul, god of strength, will soon welcome him into the world beyond. Devlin was attacked many more times, finally he fell. He could only think of the orc in front of him, for he didn’t see his grandfather, or his god.

He only saw orc and smoke. So he wouldn’t be welcomed in the next life. He would only have the prize of burning in the ashes of Gyson. He tripped the nearest orc, suddenly feeling even stronger than just a bit ago, from the anger toward his god, and broke it’s neck. However, three more blades ended his rampage early, and Devlin died wanting only to see the life of a god end.