A World Without a Sun

Dayn awoke with a start to someone lighting a lamp in his room and placing a washing bucket near his bed. Right--wake-up call. Struggling onto his elbows, he quickly shooed the woman out his room. The sound of her footsteps on the floor, though, rocked the man's head like he couldn't believe. Come to think of it, his entire head felt like it was split in half already, and he couldn't remember a thing from the previous night. Glancing over to the side of his bed, he made sure that no one else was lying there who he couldn't remember. No pretty faces, but he had no idea what had happened last night.

The cool water on his face helped a little bit with the disorientation, though not much. Peaking out the window revealed first light just occurring behind the ever-present field of clouds that had covered the skies for years now; he still had time to make it to the temple, then.

The process of going to the Temple of Asol was not completely simple, unfortunately. In Cradence there was, like in all major cities and many large towns, a large temple devoted to the Sons of the Creator, their givers of magic. The Temple of Asol, though, was located north and west, a hundred miles out onto a rocky peninsula that was surrounded by the ocean on all sides. True testing took place there, but to be tested there a man needed be certified at his local temple first. That would be where this journey would begin, then.

Keeran adjusted his travelling pack more firmly around his waist, walking down a badly lit lane towards a local market. He wanted to stock up a little more on the bare necessities; croissants, wine, lotions, the usual. Everything he would need for a harrowing trip to the Temple of Asol. Humiliating an egotistical employer usually led to confrontations, and he planned on putting in a good distance between himself and Yawagabe before he was attacked. He would give the man some time to cool off, and then he would come back. Maybe. Who knew, he might just decide to go to a different city. After all, staying in one place for too long got so boring. It would be nice to stretch his legs in a new place.

Keeran pushed open the establishment's door, and headed inside. He perused the shelves, examining the various foods, drinks, snacks, and drugs on display there.

Before he left for a new city, he had to take care of business. The Temple of Asol had called for Keeran's services again, and he was heading straight on over there to meet his newest employer. The Temple of Asol always took precedent over whatever else he was doing, for two reasons. One, the Order simply paid more than his typical employer, and two, anything else might result on the Order becoming dissatisfied with him, which could lead to either death or unemployment. Neither was preferable.

Keeran hummed, pulling a large casket of wine from the wooden shelf. He examined the date carefully, and shook his head, placing it back on the rack. He would find another one, more aged and definitely more sweet. He moved on to the next rack, reading each label before moving on.

He couldn't just head straight over to the Temple, though. He needed to alert the proper authorities that he was planning a trip to the Temple, so he wouldn't run into any obstacles or red tape later on. He would show his employment letter to his local temple, and they would send a messenger hawk around the major cities, telling them that he was granted permission to visit the Temple.

Keeran's fingers wiggled over an old bottle, hidden in the corner of the rack. Blowing some dust off of its surface, he read its label, nodding approvingly at the fruity flavour. "Perfect!" He sang, and went to pay.

With his new casket of old wine safely secured in his small storage pack, which was belted to his waist to prevent any low-level thieves from stealing it, he continued on his way. The local temple was only a few more streets away. He would be there in no time, then it was off to the Temple of Asol.

As Dayn stuck his left foot into a boot, he began rehearsing the twelve principals of Air in his head, wondering if he'd need any of them to be certified. The nine principals of fire, now, as he lowered his right foot into the other boot. Standing up straight, he buttoned the vest that posed as a middle layer between undershirt and coat, one button for each of the six qualities of earth. Sliding his arms through the sleeves of his coat, he murmured the prime mantra of all magic wielders - the conviction, the calling, and, above all, the conceit.

"We are the inheritors of the Creator, the firstborn of all creation. It is magic that sustains this world, and we are those who shall usher it in. We are the patriarchs of creation, and those without magic are no greater than women."

He smiled; it certainly was a satisfying thing to rehearse. Threading his belt around his pants, Dayn tightened the fastenings and slung his pack over one shoulder, hanging from his hip on the opposite side. A quick flight of stairs later and the man opened the door into the relatively dismal atmosphere of morning's first breath in Cradence.

The air was chilled and damp, a general fog still hovering over the city, though not quite low enough to obscure vision while walking. While the sewers and the drainage had gorged themselves the night before on the storm that had just passed, large puddles of dirty rain water still littered the streets, and Dayn did his best to pick his way through the narrow roads carefully.

Turning a corner the young man found himself in a slightly more open square of the city, a dozen or so market stalls being lazily re-supplied for the morning around the perimeter of the square, but the main attraction indeed was the shallow flight of stairs leading up to a large, pillared building. Many people came to the temple for prayer or to ask some favor of the clerics who resided there, but Dayn could only help but smirk at his own mission there this day. Already he felt better than the lot of them.

A trail of heavy, deep footprints in the nearly dry mud followed Dargus as he ran towards the cart. He had been calling out Marius' name in the hope that he wouldn't tire of waiting on him and take off on his own. Were that to happen, Dargus wouldn't know what to do with himself, feeling as if he had severely let down his friend.

Rarely had anyone seen Dargus actually run, and when they did, it appeared as more of an awkward, stumbling, stampede than anything else. Villagers alarmingly scrambled to get out of his way, as it were likely that Dargus would simply run them over in his headlong rush for Marius. Panting heavily, Dargus was able to stop himself on the opposite side of the cart to Marius.

"Hullo, Marius!" Dargus panted, grinning in the process. Slowly he lifted his muddy self into the seat next to his friend, rocking the entire cart in the process. Noticing a rather large clump of clay in his beard, he used his grubby fingers to pick it out and obliviously brush it off onto Marius. Then, satisfied, he grabbed Marius around the neck and gave him a very awkward pat on the head while excitedly exclaiming: "you ready, buddy?!"

Marius thought he was going to be sick as the man embraced him in a both awkward and disgusting fashion. So this was true punishment for mankind's sin: Dargus. For a fleeting moment Marius almost believed that being close to the stench of darkness where the Creator fell would be a great blessing in comparison to this Hell he was stuck in. Like any Hell, it was not the brief moments he dreaded, it was the everlasting connection with torment he feared. He squirmed out of Dargus' grasp and eyed the man warily.

Torment indeed.

The journey was going to take at least three days, that much was sure. Marius hadn't been to the town before, but he had maps and knew the land well enough, for the most part. Much of the journey would be spent going up steep inclines that required slow, steady paces that would warrant long rests at the tops. His eyes found the hulking, now ominous shape of Dargus quite reproachful now. Perhaps if they walked fast enough one of their hearts would just give out and Marius would be in a better place. He had no idea what sort of afterlife awaited him, but anything was better than this man.

But the situation could not be avoided now, one way or another. All he could do was make the journey and pray for a lightning bolt to strike him where he stood. His tone befit his resignation, "Ready as I'll ever be, Dargus."

(Couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd post for you :) )

Staring at Marius, Dargus couldn't help but grin. This was going to be great! He hadn't ventured far out of town in ages, and better yet he was going to be with Marius for the entirety of the trip. Nothing could have made Dargus happier. "Well thats good to hear, Marius," Dargus replied, happier than ever, the pain of the previous night all but gone. "This is just going to be great! Out on the road, havin' an adventure or whatnot together!"

Dargus settled further into the carriage, getting comfortable for the journey. After a few moments had passed, he began to feel slightly squished, so he awkwardly raised his arm over Marius' head, dragging his mud caked sleeve through his hair, and placed his arm on the carriage behind Marius' neck. Again he stared at Marius and grinned through his bushy, grimy beard. "You know, I've always wanted to visit Kova," he said, promptly taking a swig of whiskey after the fact. "Have you ever been there?"

Marius' stomach shuffled around awkwardly as the smell of Dargus settled in next to the man. As Dargus lifted his arm, though, every inch of Marius complained at the response, and he did his best to keep a straight face and put his mind somewhere else. It wasn't long, though, before he was robbed of that slight solace with Dargus speaking once more, the man's whiskey breath almost overwhelmingly close. Marius considered asking for a drink in the hopes of getting too drunk to drive, falling off and breaking his neck... The fantasy couldn't seem to get past the idea of sharing a bottle with that man, though.

There had to be some redeeming quality about Dargus. There must be! Maybe... maybe if they just got to know one another, or perhaps... A single look at the his oafish appearance killed that thought too. Sighing, Marius responded to the man much in a way he would've responded to a child, "No, Dargus, I've never been to Kova. I've heard it's in the side of a mountain though--very pretty." He glanced to the rear of the cart where a pile of unfinished weapons were covered by a canopy. Maybe he could just beat the man to death in his sleep... He shuddered at his own inhumanity; the smell was really getting to him.

Enthralled in the conversation, Dargus listened intently to Marius' short reply. "Oh, that sounds wonderful! I can't wait to get there," after Dargus said this, he belched as politely as he could, letting the gas seep slowly out of his mouth. Then grinning, embarrassed, he said: "Heh, sorry 'bout that."

Wiping his mouth, Dargus grunted, lifted his arm over Marius' head again to reach for his bottle of whiskey in between his knees. Shaking it, he noticed he had roughly two thirds of a bottle left. Popping the cork out, he took a long swig, then gasped a sound of satisfaction as he put the cork back in the bottle. Hitting it with the bottom of his fist to secure it tightly, he placed the bottle back between his legs, then sat back up, rocking the cart. When he was finished, he put his arm back around Marius' neck where he had sat comfortably moments ago.

"Oh, I'm sorry Marius, so rude of me," he said, remembering his manners, things he tried his hardest to use, "I should'a asked you, would you like a drink?"

As Dargus lifted that massive, hairy arm off Marius' neck, the man driving the cart relaxed just a fraction of a bit. Perhaps he was being too cynical about the whole ordeal. They were all going to die anyway, what was the difference if they suffered a bit for their crimes before that point? After all, it wasn't completely unbearable--the thought was cut off as the rancid breath from Dargus' burp seemed to light every hair in his nostrils on fire from the stench. No, he absolutely took it back. He couldn't imagine a punishment greater than this.

As Dargus slid his arm around the man's neck again, Marius only half-suppressed a shiver of disgust, hardly hearing the man's comment about taking a drink, as if he would even consider putting his mouth on that disgusting bottle. There was a simpler solution to this, though.

Marius shook his head once in response to Dargus, quickly dipping his head forward to get out of the man's reach, "Why don't you take the reins for a bit, Dargus? Just follow the road and you'll be all right. I need to stretch my legs--I'll just walk alongside the cart." There, that should satisfy the man. Maybe he'd fall off now in a drunken stupor and get trampled or something. Handing Dargus the reins to the two horses that pulled the cart, he quickly hopped to the ground before the man could try and hug him close or something else that might send him wishing for an immediate demise.

It happened so quickly, as soon as Dargus had asked Marius if he had wanted a sip of his Whiskey, Marius decided to hop out of the cart and hand the reigns over to Dargus. His arm, which had been resting on the top of Marius' shoulders slumped to the warm seat that Marius had just left. Scrambling, as if worried he would loose the horses, Dargus picked up the reigns.

"Oh, well thanks Marius!" Dargus said, slightly nervous, yet happy that Marius would think of him enough to let him try. "I've never actually driven one of these things before. Heh." Dargus looked at Marius who was walking beside him, then back at the road quickly. He then whipped the reigns and the horses lurched forward at a frighteningly quick pace. Frantically the horses began storming up the hill, weaving all over the road with Dargus being thrown from side to side of the cart. Trying as hard as he could to stay in the cart while holding the reigns, Dargus began making worried gestures, pulling this way and that on the horses, giving more whips on the reigns. It was clear now, if it hadn't been before, that Dargus had no idea what he was doing.

Dargus and the cart were now one hundred feet ahead of Marius, and as Dargus looked back to see if Marius was ok, he lost total control and the cart flipped. The right wheel was broken, and the horses were tramping up the hill ahead of them, leaving Dargus, the cart, and Marius behind. Dargus' large, muddy body was trapped under the heavy cart, his head and right arm were all that were not covered by the heavy wood. Looking down the trail, Dargus shouted: "Marius! I crashed the cart! I'm so sorry!"

Marius was torn between trying to shout instruction up to Dargus or just sitting back and hoping the out of control contraption would snap the man's neck when it all fell apart. Before he could really decide, though, it was already too late; much to his displeasure it didn't even manage to knock the lumbering man out, either. With a sigh, he rubbed his wrist across his forehead to clear any perspiration and began walking toward Dargus at a resigned pace. Could this day, this life, get any worse? Maybe best not to tempt fate when it was in as sour of a mood as this.

It seemed like Dargus was stuck under the cart, though, and Marius figured he'd have to help the man anyway; no need to add to the screams that filled his ears every night when he went to bed. The cart's contents, though, had spilled all across the muddy roadside, the canvas that had been covering it now in ruins, though with the cart up-ended you could hardly tell what was under there.

A few moments later he arrived at the cart, though, surveying the damage now that he was up close. With a wheel gone, the delivery was essentially over; they didn't have the kind of tools or parts to repair this thing, even if the horses hadn't gone running off. Maybe they'd just walk back to town; it wasn't terribly far. Quickly, though, he stooped down to lift the cart off Dargus' hairy mass. With his back to the way up the road, though, he didn't notice the riders until they sound of horses in the mud was already audible.

Twisting his frame around, he noticed several men, looked like five of them, on horseback, trotting toward them at a quick pace. Within a few moments they'd be upon the wagon soon, and Marius groaned as he realized they weren't going to be friendly.

As Dargus watched Marius walk up to the cart, his left arm began to cramp under the cart's weight. It wasn't long before Marius arrived, crouched down, and began to lift. However, to the dismay of Dargus' arm, he stopped to look up.

Dargus could hear the sounds of horse feet on the trail, which sound gave Dargus a glimmer of hope that he hadn't completely ruined everything. The view of what was actually heading their way was obscured by both the cart, and the body of Marius. "Is that our horses comin' back, Marius?" Dargus asked, smiling despite his situation. "Maybe we can ride them the rest of the way!"

Marius bit off a curse as he lifted the cart up once more just long enough to make sure the man would be able to get out safely. He was quite sure he hated him, but he was going to need all the help he could get against bandits. They were truly a lecherous lot, always patrolling the eastern coastline and looking for anyone who might be vulnerable now that the whole world had gone to hell. No need for mercy when all of that had been soaked up in one stinking mass a few hundred miles to the west.

With haste, Marius moved back to end of the cart, the contents lying in the mud now. It might never make it to Kova, but he had every intention of using it to stay alive. With a grunt, he eyed Dargus very seriously for once, speaking in a hardly audible tone, "Have you ever killed a man, Dargus?"

Before he could get a response, though, the riders were upon the two of them, dismounting slowly. Those were their horses all right, caught by the bandits a little ways up the road no doubt. The front fellow had a thick mustache and a smirk on his face, fingering the blade on his hip like he wanted to use it. The man spoke with a sneer, and the four other hulking fellows cracked their knuckles and nodded in approval, "Looks like you all've got a bit of a wreck on your hands. Don't mind if we... ah... clean up a bit, do you? Of course you don't. Braz, Strom, and Maro, get that fat, muddy fellow, me and Korn got the other one."

The men split up deftly, three heading for the larger Dargus and the other two headed to Marius. There was no more time to be wasted now. Marius ducked down and reached his hand under the wagon, grabbing at some of the materials they had been transporting--a weapon shipment. "If you want to live, Dargus, catch!" he yelled at the oaf of a man, lobbing the heaviest weapon he had been able to find toward him: a heavy cudgel like item made out of steel. Pulling up a sword for himself, he faced the thieves, ready to defend himself or die trying.

In what seemed like the same breath to Dargus, Marius had kindly helped him out from under the cart and also asked him if he had killed a man. The question took Dargus for surprise, the last thing he had expected was for Marius and he to run into any trouble. Yet trouble it was. Three large men were grinning as they slowly approached Dargus, fists in their hands. Nervously Dargus looked towards Marius, at a loss as to what to do, as suddenly Marius tossed a large steel club his way.

"Oof," Dargus said as the cudgel thumped him in the chest and fell on the floor, he had tried but failed to catch it. Bending over, he picked up the weapon and looked at it, then back at Marius. "Marius, wouldn't it be better if we just gave 'em what they want?"

The leader of the mercenaries slowed down a bit as he realized the men were actually, indeed, armed. Still, though, at Dargus' comment the man was able to find a sneer, "We'll just be taking everything you own and then your life. Doesn't have to be in that order." The man let out a rude laugh that met a rumbling echo from his cronies. Marius shook his head at the lumbering man; even with death an inch away the he was still dumber than dirt. Well, maybe a man of that size would take long enough to kill for Marius to get away. Even if Dargus didn't know how to fight, a thrashing from a man of that size could be harmful enough.

Taking a careful step back, Marius dropped into the stance of a swordsman. He had fought in the war against the Darkness back in the west, up until the point where it all fell apart, anyway. He'd been with everyone else that day, seething with hatred toward their own Creator, filled with pride and assurance that they did not indeed need him to win against the Darkness. Marius scrubbed his mind of the thought--he didn't want to die with that memory. It was broken away a moment later anyway, though, as one of the two men let out a snarl and went in for attack on the older Marius.

Marius' reaction was far from graceful and would've gotten him killed fighting anyone with an ounce of talent, but these men were as mindless as they looked, made more for punching a bound target than fighting an armed man. Marius' dropped beneath the attack sloppily and countered with his own strike, gutting the man mercilessly.

Dargus watched as the two men advanced on Marius, and as he gutted one of them, Dargus realized that they were not getting out of this without a fight. He then turned his attention to the three men advancing upon himself, their grins were worn mockingly, seeing Dargus as a helpless man. Dargus had to fight, or die.

It was then that something odd happened to Dargus, something that he hadn't expected. An odd twinge of familiarity struck him as he lifted the heavy club. He couldn't place his finger on it, but he felt as if he had done something similar to this before. Taking in a deep breath, he wrinkled his large face and swung the cudgel with a ferocious force, striking one of the men in the skull; a loud ring and a crack echoed off of the impact. The man fell lifeless, clearly dead.

Surprised, Dargus looked up at the other two men, who too now acted nervous. They looked at each other, incredulous as to what had just happened. Taken aback by what he had just done, Dargus looked over at Marius and yelled unnecessarily, "Did you see that, Marius?!"

Marius had seen it indeed, and he was more than a little bit surprised. Perhaps in that hulking mass was actually some muscle, once you got past all the beer fat. Well, if he was actually going to do something helpful for once in his miserable existence, he might as well keep doing it. "Keep your eyes on them, Dargus!" Marius reprimanded the man quickly. Their enemies were getting more and more nervous by the second, but that didn't mean they couldn't take advantage of an obvious opening. Taking his own advice, Marius refocused on the other man.

The man in front of him, the leader of this rag-tag group, held himself like he knew what he was doing, unfortunately. As their breaths misted in front of each other, Marius watched the man carefully, waiting for any move he might make. Both held swords and both had the look of someone who knew how to use it, and it made the older man unsettled. He wasn't particularly concerned with death or dying, but he still had an instinct to try and stay alive. It didn't seem like the man was going to attack him any time soon, though, and Marius wasn't sure if Dargus could go three on one, even with his size.

Marius leveled his blade and went for a quick strike, aiming at the man's legs. As the man dodged, the two of them began a quick game of minor strikes, neither ready to commit to the fight. The longer it went, though Marius wasn't sure how long that actually was, his opponent seemed more and more concerned for the outcome. Grinning wolfishly, Marius advanced harsher than before, carving a chunk of flesh out of his enemy's arm. With a cry, the marauder glanced down at the wound, slackening up his guard for a moment that Marius needed.

Charging at the man, Marius sent a fist into the his jaw with surprising force, knocking him off his feet and into the cold, muddy ground. The fever was in Marius' eyes now, and with a grin the man launched himself forward, his blade sweeping down and cleaving through the man's throat in a bloody mess. Killing felt surprisingly satisfying after all these years.

"Oh, right!" shouted Dargus in reply to Marius' remarks. He stared again at the two remaining men, who, while taken aback by Dargus' strength, regathered themselves and once again advanced upon Dargus. The two men now knew what to expect of Dargus, he would not be able to surprise them with his strength once again. One of the men raised his sword and swung it at Dargus, which startled him as he was barely able to lift his steel club to deflect the blow. Sweat was now crawling across Dargus forehead, as the other man raised a sword and swung it at Dargus also.

Struggling, Dargus blocked blow after blow. The men were snickering, as they were toying with the large oaf, swinging blows at a slow enough pace that Dargus could feel that he was actually capable of fending off two sword fighters. It was becoming apparent, now, Dargus was getting tired. Breathing heavily, Dargus made up his mind that it was either kill these men or die himself. He then yelled a mighty roar, and swung his mace towards the men with all his might, catching one of them off guard, hitting him in the hips. A large crunching noise flew through the air as the man's pelvis shattered and he collapsed in agony. However, this left Dargus open, he could not recover from the swing and the lone man left standing took advantage. Dargus now looked up at the man, and felt the cold iron of a sword against his throat.

"A pity, really," said the man. Dargus looked at Marius wearily, too afraid to speak.

The horrific crunching sound made it to Marius' ears, but by the time he had released his sword from the man's throat, it looked like Dargus was tiptoeing that fate too. The man took a slow, measured breath, cadenced like the even steps of a swordsman. There wasn't much love for Dargus, between the two men that now seemed to hold his life in their hands, but something was stirring inside Marius. It rose up inside him, like a dust devil beginning slowly in the dirt, moving something long thought to be inanimate. Maybe it was battle that was calling up those old emotions of a soldier, or maybe it was just seeing someone's life at risk, but in that moment Marius knew he would not be satisfied with letting Dargus just die to this criminal. There was no justice in that--the man didn't even know how wretched Dargus was!

"If you've got a brain, thief," Marius growled at the man, his eyes narrowing as he raised his sword a hair, "then use it and look at the mess I've made of your friends." He paused for a moment, adjusting his footing slightly. "Do you value your life as much as his?" he finished, nodding at Dargus. The men of the King's Army, or those who had served in it, carried two notable traits.

One, they knew their weapons, and they knew how to fight to the death. At least, that was what they said, though Marius had often felt inferior compared to many of his peers in that regard. It was the second, though, that had manifested in him perhaps more than average, though it was difficult to say. Men of the King's Army could put fear in the heart of Darkness. Some called in a gift from the Creator, others said it came just from their skill, though Marius doubted that deeply. No, something curious happened when they fought evil, and the man before him had no purity left in his soul.

The thief's hand slipped a fraction, at Marius's words, a tinge of fear touching his eyes. Even with a hostage his situation didn't look good. With that hesitation, though, Marius took his opportunity. Releasing a breath, the old soldier formed it into a battle cry that shook the air, his vocal cords throbbing at the strain, but the mud quivered even beneath their feet at the sound. As the thief dropped his weapon in complete shock, Marius's sword carved a hole through his chest and into his heart.

Adrenaline seemed to vanish from Marius's body the moment his enemy breathed their last, and the soldier left the blade in his chest as he fell into the mud. Amidst his panting, the exhaustion from the battle coming in immediately, Marius spared a look toward his still breathing companion. He wasn't sure if he was happy the man was alive or not, but he knew he had done his duty to protect, at least.

"You all right, Dargus?"

Dargus stared at Marius, several emotions were coursing though his body. He stared into Marius' eyes then dropped the weapon. "Wow, Marius," Dargus said, as he wiped the profuse sweat out of his eyes. "Wow. You.. you saved my life!" Dargus dropped his metal club, opened his arms as wide as he could, the stepped towards Marius, picking him up in a monsterous hug. Dargus squeezed Marius tightly, Marius' head buried in Dargus' messy beard.

"Thank you so much," Dargus said, letting his hero down once again. "I, I don't even know what to say." Dargus was truly speechless. Picking up his whiskey bottle that had been laying on the side of the road, he took a drink than sat on the floor, tired and bewildered. "Wow, Marius... It really means a lot to me, heh, how can I repay you?"