Awakenings: A Prologue

What’s below is the opening prologue to the Pathfinder campaign that I’m working on.  It’s about a 2nd, maybe half-heartedly 3rd round draft.  I’m never happy with my own writing, but it’s been an enormously long time since I’ve done any creative writing, so I’m even less happy with it, now.  I know, however, that the only way I’m going to improve is to get my ass writing, so here it is!

I’m becoming a bit obsessed with Willem and his plight.  I’ve yet to come up with a good name for the campaign, but I’m sure it will come to me as I keep working on it.

Special thanks to @TheAngryDM for coming up with the name to Willem’s horse!

Grandfather was like an ancient oak tree. Each limb ended in a gnarled knot, a testament to the sheer length of time the tree had been in the world.  Yet, he didn’t move like an oak tree might.  He drifted more than moved.  Drifted like the words of a well-written poem drift along a page, not a single syllable or turn of phrase out of place, every word existing for a reason.  He never touched something without a purpose.  To evoke a memory.  To admire past handiwork.  To analyze an experiment.  Willem’s grandfather, even well into his 90s, constantly made Willem feel like a blundering, clumsy, oaf.  He always seemed to break something whenever he came to visit these days.  Today, it was a mirror.  Grandfather had dozens of mirrors, but they were all precious and even Willem hated to see one shattered.

Willem sighed and reached for the broom.  He knew well where it was, having been his grandfather’s constant companion since the age of four, when Willem’s mother was killed during an Orc raid.  Willem learned of the world at the knee of his Grandfather – actually, his great, great grandfather … but everyone just knew him as Grandfather.  At 90, Grandfather had easily lived through three generations.  His appearance often terrified strangers, and some even spread rumors that Grandfather was using dark magics to keep himself alive.  He’d always just waved off the rumors and told Willem that people are merely afraid of that which they do not understand.  It wasn’t as if there were many others around for rumors to matter, anyway.

Willem was deep in thought about the many fond years he spent in their little cottage, stuffed with books and the constant, cloying smell of drying herbs.  Grandfather plied the art of alchemy to put food on the table and always managed to have something new and exciting for Willem when he was growing up.  If it weren’t for the dark cloud of his past, and the darker cloud laying over the horizon of Krohn, Willem would say he’d enjoyed a fairly idyllic childhood.  Just as Willem reached for the broom, he felt a gentle, boney hand on his arm.

“Remember”, Grandfather said in a soft, gravely voice. He pointed one gnarled oak-twig finger at the shattered glass mirror on the floor.

Willem blinked, then smiled at the memory.  Ten years ago, he broke a similar mirror.  Terrified, he tried to hide the evidence of the crime, but Grandfather knew better.  Rather than scold Willem, he smiled and said, “Never be afraid to fail.  It’s how we learn.  Come closer, Willem, and I’ll tell you a story … about our world.”

“Those shards”, Grandfather said as he crouched down to get a closer look, “are very much like our reality,” he paused then, and looked at Willem who seemed confused by the concept of ‘reality’.  “Ah,” Grandfather said, smiling, “I know … I should begin at the beginning.  That is, as they say, where one should always begin.”

Grandfather chuckled to himself and Willem relaxed some, convinced now that he wasn’t going to get into any trouble.  This seemed to amuse Grandfather even more, who continued, “Reality is what we call our world … all of the things we see and touch.  This mirror, that table, the color of your hair, what you had for breakfast.  Everything that we see and touch and understand, all of the places in our world, the cities, the trees, the leaves, all of the animals and races of people … we all exist in one of those shards.”

Willem blinked and looked up at Grandfather quizzically.  Before he could ask how that was possible, however, Grandfather interrupted him, “Not literally, you see … figuratively.  Like … a picture.”

“Every time a decision is made, another shard is created.  Maybe more than one if it was a particularly complex decision….”  He then took the broom and sharply brought the handle down over the largest shard.  It shattered into a dozen more pieces.  Grandfather pointed at one of the smaller ones. “Maybe in that one, you didn’t break the mirror.  Or in that one, you broke the mirror, but not into so many pieces.  Or, maybe in that one..”, he said, pointing at a larger shard a little further way, “…you and I don’t even exist.”

Willem looked startled at this revelation, but he was a boy with a grand imagination.  “Maybe in one everybody eats dessert for dinner.”

Grandfather smiled at the boyish thought and ruffled Willem’s hair, “Maybe.”, he agreed, but then said, in a more serious tone,  “Maybe in one of them, the Orcs don’t rule the world, humans are more than just slaves or outcasts, and magic is not outlawed.”

This stopped Willem in his tracks and he stared for a long time at the largest shard of glass.  Maybe in that one, his mother wasn’t dead.  “Just imagine,” Grandfather said, “imagine what that world might be like if things were only a little different.”

The adult Willem’s smile melted into a frown and he sighed heavily as he cleaned up the mirror.  “Grandfather,” he said tiredly, “we must talk.”

Grandfather smiled and he nodded, “So we must.  The Orcs are coming.”

The broom stilled in Willem’s hand and he turned to look at his Grandfather, who was now settling into a comfortable chair near the fire.  The only way Willem knew about the coming Orcs was because he was there when the scouts reported the sighting.  How did Grandfather know?

Grandfather chuckled at this with amusement.  “All of these years, my grandson, and you still marvel when I know more than you.”

Willem smirked, taking it in stride.  He learned long ago never to question how Grandfather seemed to know about everything before it happened.  “Fine, then, Grandfather … why aren’t you packing if you already know?”

“I’m not leaving.”, came Grandfather’s response.  It was firm.  Decided.  Willem knew the tone well, and he expected it.  If nothing, Grandfather was extraordinarily stubborn.  All the ride to the cottage, Willem had been working on a grand speech to give at just this moment.  So, he inhaled a deep breath of air, bringing the first sentence of his speech into his mind, then halted, mid-thought as his grandfather interrupted.

“I’ll be dead by the morning, anyway.”, came the voice Willem had known nearly all his life to mean safety and permanency.  The breath, the sentence, and the speech left Willem’s body in a puff of surprise and confusion.  “Wh-what?  Grandfather, no, don’t talk like that.  You’ve been around…”

“For ninety-three years…” Grandfather interrupted.  Again.  “A very long time, indeed.  I’ve seen three generations come and go.  Three!  Krohnite humans rarely live past thirty, you know…”

Willem rolled his eyes and sighs, “Yes, Grandfather, I know, but … that doesn’t mean you’re going to die tomorrow.”

Grandfather sighed and looked up at his great-great-grandson.  “Look at me, grandson”, he said, “I am an old man.”

Willem looked.  Perhaps he hadn’t wanted to face it, but Grandfather didn’t move quite as gracefully anymore.  His movements were more stiff, he seemed more frail.  With each visit, he also seemed to get paler and tire more easily.  Willem gripped the broom handle harder, just to have something to hold onto.  “You can’t die, Grandfather.  I need you.”

Grandfather waved his hand and patted the seat next to him.  Numbly, Willem walked over and took it without thinking.  “You’re all I have”, Willem said weakly.

Grandfather nodded at this in understanding.  “I do apologize, grandson.  You have come into a hard world and you will face a hard life.  I can not stop that just as I can not stop the rain from coming, or winter from falling.  It is nature.  It is the way of our world.”

Willem swallowed hard, looking over into Grandfather’s eyes.  He quickly looked away.  They were milky, not clear.  Even at just sixteen, he’d seen plenty of dead men.  Dead men always had milky-colored eyes.  “No.  I won’t leave you here.  I’ll take you with me.”

Grandfather sighed, as if he expected this.  “I will not survive the journey.  You must let me die here, Willem.  It is my will.  You must honor that.”

Willem frowned, hard, and pushed himself to his feet without thought.  “Maybe you are a lunatic like they say.  Grandfather, listen to reason.  If you come with me, there is a chance that you might live.  If you stay here, you will surely die.”

Grandfather smiled, “I know, Willem.  I know that I will surely die either way, and I’d rather die here than somewhere out there.”

Willem felt like he must be dreaming.  This can’t be happening.  “Grandfather…”, he pleaded weakly.

“Honor is everything to us.”, Grandfather said, looking up at Willem.  To Willem, it was like solid ice was being shoved through his heart.  He could not say no to a request of an honorable death.  It would go against the most fundamental root of all of Grandfather’s teachings.  He was trapped in a corner and he knew it.  All he could manage to say again was, “Grandfather…”

Grandfather pushed his way to his feet and drifted closer to Willem.  “This is for you.” he said, pressing a lumpy velvet pouch into Willem’s hand.  “Do not open it until you have left the forest.  It is time for you to be your own man, live your own destiny … and your destiny, boy, will be grand.”

Willem could hardly believe what he was hearing.  Destiny?  Grand?  At best, he would live another fifteen, maybe twenty years if he was lucky, moving from small settlement to small settlement, doing his best to avoid the orc raiding parties that ended only in slavery or death.  Krohn help him if he did something foolish like fall in love and have children.  His life would surely be shorter, then, and likely there’s.  He’d look forward to spending it in constant fear of their death.  Or worse.  Krohnite humans more often than not got ‘worse’ than death.

Grandfather pushed at Willem, urging him toward the door even while saying, “You are the change this world needs, Willem.  You do not know it now, but you will know it, and you will know it soon.  But, in order for you to walk your path.  In order for this world to heal.  In order for all of these things to come true … you must leave this forest, and I must not.”

Willem stopped in his tracks and turned to look at his grandfather full on, now.  Yes, he could see the certainty in his eyes.  This was one of the many things Grandfather always just seemed to know, and if there was one thing Willem learned through his years here, it was not to question that knowledge.  Willem swallowed hard and clutched the velvet sack.  “What if I can’t do it?  What if I can’t live up to this?”

Grandfather shook his head resolutely and began pushing at Willem again, “They are coming, Willem.  It is time for you to leave.  What will happen to you will happen to you whether you are ready or not, whether you believe you can face it or not.  It is the man who you have become that will make your destiny possible, not the things that will happen to you.”

Willem blinked at this as he was forcibly shoved out of his grandfather’s cottage, regardless of the fact that Willem was well four times or more his grandfather’s strength.  To most, his appearance was more than simply intimidating.  He wore his raven-black hair down to the nape of his neck, where the ends curled up.  His eyes were a piercing green that, even at sixteen, seemed to look right through a man, and his body was that of a well-honed warrior.  He was a handsome enough young man, though he had his fair share of battle scars.  He had been serving with the local militia, a group that was really nothing more than about ten men keeping what little of a human settlement that existed free of harm.  Their task was one that was impossible and they saw many deaths and many failures.  Willem had been serving since he was thirteen, and he had seen enough in the three years there to turn him into what amounted to a hardened veteran.  “Grandfather!” he protested, managing to hold his ground on the front porch, “You MUST reconsider!  I may well be able to get you to safety!”

Grandfather shook his head.  “We will part here forever, Willem.  You must accept that.  It is what I want.”  He reached up a hand and rested it on Willem’s shoulder.  “When I find what is in the afterlife, I will find your mother, and I will tell you what a fine man you became and how proud I was to have you in my life.”

Willem gritted his teeth and set his jaw against the tears forming in his eyes.  “Grandfather…”, his voice broke this time.  “I can not ride off knowing what they will do to you here!”

Grandfather squeezed Willem’s shoulder, “I will be dead before they arrive, Grandson.  Fear not about my comfort.  Go, now.”

Willem stared for a long few moments at his Grandfather before what remained of his resolve melted entirely.  He reached out and numbly picked up the reigns to his horse.  Numbly, again,  he deposited the velvet pouch into a pocket at his belt.  Unsure of what to say, and fearing his grief and pain might overcome his desire to give his grandfather his last wish, Willem simply said, as he turned toward the path, “I love you, Grandfather.  I always will.  If it takes me nine lifetimes, I will spend them to rid this world of the Orcs.  I give you my word.”

Grandfather smiled gravely at that and nodded, but Willem did not see that.  He turned away before his will could break.  Before he could disappoint himself.  Honor is an easy thing to promise to, he thought to himself bitterly, when it is merely a concept.

Willem rode through the night, and Ferros kept up the pace like a good warhorse should.  The heavens opened up and appropriately drenched the surrounding forest in rain.  He cried.  He sobbed.  He wept.  Several times, he nearly turned back, but never did.  He remembered his promise, and swore from then on it would be the one thing that gave him sustenance.  The one thing that kept him moving forward.

Just before dawn, the rain ceased.  Now at the edge of the forest, Willem was far from his militia, far from the Orcs, far from the battle.  Away from him, men and women were being murdered, raped, taken for slaves,  and he could do nothing about it.  He hunted some game for food, built a fire, huddled in his cloak and finally reached for the velvet pouch Grandfather had given to him.

The first heavy item that fell out of the pouch and onto Willem’s hand was a holy symbol … yet, it was not a Holy Symbol of Krohn, the only god Willem knew to exist.  Willem stared at it quizzically.  The front of the medallion carried the image of a god on a mighty steed, dressed in full field plate, wielding an enormous, two-handed sword that was aflame.  The horse was in a rearing pose and the god was thrusting his weapon to the heavens, as if ready to charge into battle.  Around the outside of the medallion were words written in Ancient Common, said to be the language of magic, which was forbidden on Krohn.  Willem knew the language, however.  Grandfather had made sure to teach it to him.   He read the words outloud, now, “The Knights of The Old Order”, then underneath he peered at a word he’d never seen before.  “Paladin.”

Willem shook his head in confusion.  In all of his studies with his Grandfather, that word had never come up.  Willem flipped the medallion around and on the other side, three words were inscribed: Honor, Valor, Virtue.. the very three things his Grandfather had been teaching him all these years.  Willem sighed heavily and spoke to no one, “He gave me this with no former knowledge of what it was because he knew I would seek it out.  Grandfather, you were nothing if not unpredictable.”

He took the medallion and carefully pulled it over his neck, then tucked it beneath his tunic which lay beneath a chainmail chestpiece.  If he were caught by the wrong people, that alone could get him executed.  Best to keep it close at hand.  He then shook the second object in the velvet back onto his hand and his eyes widened.  On his palm lay the largest diamond Willem had ever seen.  He had no idea Grandfather had such wealth.  Sure, they lived comfortably, but they still seemed just as poor as everyone else in the area.  This … this was unprecedented.  “Well, then, Grandfather … a mystery to unfold and the means to unfold it.  I will not let you down.”