Book 1: Rise. [A Villain's Story/Solo]

[Alberdyne_Cormyr]

Solo unless someone takes an interest and would like to join me in this endeavor.

~Level 2~ (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?28598-Alberdyne-Cormyr-Level-2-Update-Cormyr-Book-2)



~Day 1~

I had lost everything. My Father, opting to keep his own title and namesakes severed all ties to me. Now...I had no family to call my own. No crown to protect...so I was exiled. I longed for the forge, working the blacksmith's hammer with the anvils of my youth. Day in day out...working. That was all that mattered and all I longed for. It kept going forward, the desire to work. Looking for new opportunities in a war-ravaged land very different from the paradise of my youth. Corone was a nation that was now at war with itself and lost it's initial principles. And now, I was an exiled son. A bastard son, a victim of the war like so many other war ravaged families.

Those days, Alberdyne no longer had a family.

He was searching for a new destiny, and his travels lead him far from his homeland of Corone.

Far from the ravages of that war, to a newer place...a Nation with it's own harsher and stricter code.

The sun beat down on his back and he walked forward with sheer force of will power alone. The caravan he'd been a part of was lost to the dangers of the Alerar desert a few days prior. it was a random attack by a group of ruffians, and Alberdyne had tried to defend against the new threat but could not. He was robbed, broken and tossed aside like the rest of the trash. Now, his boots pushed on through the sand and steaming hot earth. He wore rags those days, not like the fine clothing of his youth. Those days, he was homeless and without nothing to earn his way. His eyes stared blankly ahead. The old hood he wore covered his face but did nothing to protect him from the harsh heat of the unforgiving desert.

Alberdyne, the exile, simply moved forward through the wild lands without any sense of direction.

In a sense, he'd already accepted the fact that he was marching to his death more than likely.

Vultures already followed the former Hero overhead, stalking the likely doomed youth. He wore a beard those days, scraggly and rugged. His eyes were glazed over. He walked in a shuffle, in a way, he was already dead. The dead man pushed himself onward without any real goal in mind. He could not remember the last time he tasted water. He could not remember the last hot meal he'd eaten. Most importantly, he could not remember the last warm bed he'd slept on. He was now going on a week of travel time, on foot with only his will power to guide him through Alerar.

Alberdyne could feel the sun beating down on his hunched over back. He was tired, broken, and in a lot of ways had already given up on before his journey even started. Up ahead, his sharp eyes spotted a vulture that hungrily stared at him.

Just skin and bones now you little bastard. Won't get much off me anyway...

Though he knew his desperate thoughts would not stop the carrion birds from feasting on his innards anyway.

The obsidian feathered carrion birds were following Alberdyne closely overhead. They seemed to be getting bolder by drawing ever nearer to Alberdyne's exhausted form. It was only a matter of time. I don't know why I'm even here...maybe I'll be lucky and the birds will put me out quickly. Dyne thought to himself. His eyes narrowed as he passed the bird that was on the ground up ahead, and it happened. The bird took a lunging strike at Dyne's lower body. The powerful beaks of the avian caught Dyne's cloak and ripped off a good portion of fabric. Dyne panicked and pulled away from the powerful bird, his body moving in pure instinct away from the ripping motion. The bird called out angrily to it's buddies and and ate the piece of fabric it had torn off Dyne's cloak. There was an almost psychotic hungry look in it's eyes. Dyne pushed forward quickly as he could managed in his starving and thirsty state. He'd passed the point of dehydration days earlier. The wind howled around the wild land, hot and scorching. It made Dyne's dry skin burn with even more agony.

Dyne was feeling the heat sapping away the last of his considerable strength.

He didn't know how much longer he could hold out.

Moving as far away from the shrieking carrion bird as he could, Dyne didn't look back. He was too afraid to, so instead, he kept pushing forward. Everywhere. Nowhere. I am going to die out here. Fitting the end would come in a wasteland as empty as his heart and soul had become. It was a suitable end to a Hero's life that was once full of promise and hope. Now, that hope was fading with each step he took through the blasted inferno of Alerar. Then, about five minutes later, something happened. As he pushed forward through the moving sand, his right knee buckled. He felt himself begin to fall down and did not even bother to brace his fall.

As far as Dyne was concerned the end had arrived...and a fitting end it was.

***

Darkness.

It swirled around the exile and he could feel the embrace of the old soul collectors.

The reapers and harbingers meant to carry one's soul to The After to face judgment for the sins and crimes done in life.

Dyne suddenly felt a strong pang of coldness, a wet cold fluid that was all too familiar to him.

The quick shock of the fluid of life made Dyne fall through the dark void. He felt a concrete feeling of falling down, perhaps back to his broken physical shell. Voices. Not his own, and speaking in a strange language. Dyne called out in agony as he coughed up the now wet sand. It was a disgusting flavour. Water was splashed on him again, and the second splash awoke the youth with a start. His eyes burst open, focusing quickly. The world settled back in his glazed over vision, and several strong individuals lifted Dyne up and off the ground. The world was a sudden blur of motion and action. He was tossed in a wagon or carriage, or vehicle of some sort. He did not see any horses or camels. Yet, the contraption was somehow able to move of it's own accord. Dyne was tossed on the floor of a compartment inside the carriage-like monstrosity. The door was closed, with a loud slam, and as Dyne fully became aware...he saw several individuals in the chamber with him. He also felt a loud vibration and the mysterious contraption he was in moved through the desert.

There were several figures, of a race that Dyne had encountered through his business dealings with his Father.

Drow.

Are they going to kill me?! Dyne wondered, accepting his fate as it was.

He'd already accepted the fact that he was going to die anyway, so he figured he would enjoy the ride.

Dyne sat up against what felt like a solid metal wall. He looked at the mysterious Drow before him. Two were female, the rest were burly males with intense glares on their face.

"Are you sure?" One of the male Drow said to the women present. "We went through a lot of trouble to acquire him, he almost didn't make it." The Drow was saying.

The female, who appeared to be a leader of some sort...responded. "The prophecy was worded very specifically. Your Houses will be rewarded very well. And now that he is before us...I am certain that he is the one we are searching for." The woman said, looking at Dyne the entire time.

Dyne listened as they spoke about him, unable to make sense of what they were talking about.

"Boy. What is your name?" The leader of the group suddenly asked of Dyne.

Dyne blinked for a moment as he was spoken to. There was a sincerity to the woman's words...he felt obligated to respond to her somehow. "Alberdyne is my name." Dyne said very carefully. He realized just then how parched his throat was and it was quite difficult to manage the words.

"Why do you think you have arrived in my homeland of Alerar?" The woman asked.

"I am looking for work..." Dyne said carefully. He was trying to be certain none of his answers would get him killed.

"What trades have you learned from your education system back in your realm?" The woman asked.

"I...I was a blacksmith...my lady." Dyne kept looking at all the individuals.

He'd never felt more afraid in his life.

"The prophecy stated you would be a member of that trade." The woman said calmly. She looked at her gathered companions briefly. "He is the one we were searching for. The words of our Matron can not be corrupt or spoken ill of. Our society exists as it does today because of our Matron. Remember that." She said, then she looked back towards Dyne. "Boy, what are you willing to do secure the destiny you are meant to obtain?" She suddenly asked.

He hesitated for only a moment. "...Anything." Dyne found himself saying, and he meant it.

"Discard the notions of loyalty you have to where ever you came from. You now belong to Alerar, as one of her native sons. You now belong to me. You are alive and will prosper because I have made it so. Do you understand?" She asked with very serious expression on her face that was almost frightening to behold.

"I have no loyalty to the Nation of Corone. I have been thrown away, discarded. I just want...to be useful again." Dyne said truthfully.

She extended a hand towards Dyne at that point. "You will join the ranks of my people as a son of Alerar. Further, you will learn and understand our ways and arts. You will become as a Drow." She said and continued. "Learn as we are, do as we do, and prosper, Dyne. Discard your old life, you will be bourn anew."

Dyne could only nod at that point in agreement sealing the contract with the powerful woman and her estate.

[Alberdyne_Cormyr]

Weeks went by.

The more time that he spent with his newly found family, the more he emulated them.

He soon understood their ways, their philosophy, their way of doing things. The void in his heart was filled with a new understanding of life and a new philosophical code. Dyne learned quickly and was as a sponge, eager to absorb everything that the Drow had to teach. As twisted as their outlook on life was, Dyne learned it and sought to master their code. To be a Drow meant that your very existence was constantly called to question. Life needed a purpose, it was not a divine gift. Life had to have reason dictated by the strict caste-like society of the Drow.

Everything was a part of the philosophical code.

The first part of Dyne's new life was learning about the basic survival mechanics placed therein to assist Dyne, break him, and remake him.

It was a long process and every minute of every day was used to learn and grow strong.

When not studying martial or combat tactics, Dyne was learning about the rites of his newly adopted people.

The process of his education was a harsh and brutal regiment.

His body was battered and bruised but Dyne learned to adapt, he learned to evolve and continue forward through his training process.

All he could think about all day, was his training and the day he might be fully recognized as a member of Drow society.

Sinister eyes surrounded the boy constantly as he trained, hungry to break him.

But Dyne never gave an inch, he had nothing to give and everything to gain.

He became as a wall, that could not break or bend or budge.

In many ways, he'd absorbed the culture he'd sought. He'd changed his appearance to better suit the new and harsh environment he currently lived in. Gone was his long and elegant hair, he currently was bald. He'd also developed a copper tan from his time spend in harsh sunlight training among his fellows. Those who didn't adapt were discarded. A desire to survive and become stronger burned within his heart. Filled his chest with a cold sort of pride and dignity needed to face each new challenge.

The beatings were harsh and brutal and would last for hours.

But never once did he complain.

He understood the why of it.

They were making him stronger than he ever thought he could be.

He needed strength to face the challenges that lay ahead, and for that...he trained harder than anybody else.

The cane beatings were the worst, but Dyne endured. That was the current session. It was a rugged training arena, deep underground in the realm society of the Drow. Several of the elders surrounded Dyne and a few other youths, and the sounds could be heard for several yards beyond the training chamber's walls. Dyne was ordered to stand in the combat stance of the Drow, their unique martial tactical style. The stick was a harsh cane made out of a thick wood. Two powerful Drow men were standing on either side of Dyne smacking his body with the sticks. All of the elder Drow held large canes in their hands and were smacking the crap out of the youths present. Those who were broken, failed the tests and were met with brutal retaliation. The entire time, the elders swore at the youth, calling them this and that and treating the youths like general garbage. Through that harsh training, strength was gained. Most importantly, strength of character.

Through the intense beating, Dyne learned to quiet his mind and simply subject himself to the pain.

The pain taught Dyne the meaning of life.

Each lashing of the wooden can tore through a broken layer of flesh.

Fresh cuts appeared above older ones making Dyne's skin tougher and tougher.

The two elders took turns beating him up and the sessions lasted for hours every day, for months on end.

It was always the same.

The room itself was a dimly let room. Surrounding the students and their masters were blackened walls, that were covered with various training lessons painted on them. Symbols and abstract images relevant to Drow society. From time to time, a student would fall and collapse from the loss of blood, the inability to adapt. Dyne could feel the weight of the falling weight of meat and bone nearby, and swore that would never be him. His eyes were filled with determination as the candles, lit by Drow magics, shone with their blue light. There were several rings of candles and each one held a badly beaten student alongside two instructors spewing curses.

The sessions ended only when the instructors deemed it was time for them to end.

As extreme as the training was, those who survived could endure many hardships.

Dyne was already used to the routine even as the lashes ripped through his flesh once more.

He thought back to the first few training sessions, and recalled that he never once passed out from the pain.

Instead, he found courage and strength to endure from somewhere deep down inside.

Somewhere that was growing dark and deeply dangerous.

Until...

"How dare you!" The elder called out to Dyne.

Having finally adapted to the lash-like beatings, Dyne instinctively reacted and caught the haft of the cane in his now powerful hand. Months had passed since his training began. Dyne's muscles tensed as he held the cane his eyes narrowed and he looked at his instructor with something like hatred...but it was worse. It was a more primal emotion that burned in Dyne's eyes just then. Dyne had learned their tongue a month or two prior and spoke as they spoke.

"I am no longer your student." Dyne said suddenly, and everybody training in the chamber suddenly stopped what they were doing and turned to look at the young upstart.

"You have not learned anything, boy. You do not dictate or make demands here." The elder attempted to pull the cane away from Dyne's grip...but somehow could not. "What is...this...?"

Dyne shook his head. "You are the ones who have not learned." He said. "You take advantage of us in some perverse self fulfilled pleasure, expecting us to break. Day in, day out, attempting to break. But no. I am not broken, I have learned your ways and now I am the one who will do the breaking."

At that precise moment, Dyne acted and disarmed the elder of his cane.

The elder was furious.

He swiftly turned towards the other elder before the man could act and placed his cane alongside the other elder's neck.

"When you all took me in as one of your own, I learned. I respected your ways and your teachings now I am the one with something to teach. You have no power over me anymore." The upstart found himself saying.

Dyne held the cane against the elder's neck and kept talking.

"Listen to me. All of you." Dyne said. He was speaking to both student and teacher alike. "Though I am an outsider, I have accepted your ways without question. I have followed your teachings and earned my place. Earned my way. No more will you treat me like a reject, a refuse. No. Now I will be taking what is mine." Dyne turned to look towards the elder that was against his cane. Then he proceeded to attack with the cane, crushing the man's neck before the fellow could react.

There was a hideous snapping sound and the elder fell to the ground, dead.

"Where did you learn that?" The other elder asked, completely astonished. "We did not teach you such arts."

"No you did not. But I have secrets, and I have learned anyway. Your ways and your arts are no longer needed..." Dyne prepared to kill the other man and cement his own freedom.

When...

"Enough!" A familiar laughter filled the air of the training chamber.

Dyne's sharp eyes turned to see the woman who had adopted him into Drow society. 'You have proven your point. You are now a man of Drow society."

There were hushed whispers, nervous whispers in the chamber as the Drow Matroness who welcomed Dyne into their fold approached and spoke to all gathered.

"I am most displeased with this event." The Matroness said. "I fully recognize Dyne as a member of Drow society, and he holds all the rights and privileges therien. He has earned it." She said.

The remaining trainer who was Dyne's former master looked at the Matroness. "My lady, I must object to this...he is not ready to be placed within the society..." The next moment, the elder fell down dead his life essence draining from him.

"Should anybody else have any objections to my decree, I will gladly listen to them." The Matroness said with acid in her voice.

Nobody spoke up.

"Dyne. You are to come to my personal quarters after you are presentable and have rested. I want you at full strength for the next part of your training." She said and held a serious expression on her face.

Dyne nodded. He kept the wooden cane by his side in case anybody else was foolish enough to attempt to attack him.