Guarrin

Guarrin woke to the sunlight streaming through the window. He sat quietly on the side of his bed, his eyes still shut to the new day, lost in thought for a few moments. Slowly, his eyes opened, and a slight smile spread across his face as his gaze encompassed the familiar sights around him.

For the past few months, he had rented this room. He knew nearly every detail of it, from the view out of the window, showing the citadel of River’s Rest in the distance, to the small crack beginning to form in the wall above the door. It came to be like his home, and many regarded it as such.

The smile quickly faded, however, as memories of what brought him here flooded his mind. His childhood amongst his clan, decades earlier, felt as though it were several millennia in the past.

Rather than bringing happiness, the memories of his warrior parents and his recollections of training with his brother under the direction of his father, both brought a deep sadness to the giant. The experiences were not painful by any means. What truly hurt Guarrin was the fact that he would never again see anything or anyone he recalled in his memories of the past.

In the year 5054 of the Modern Era, his brother Altheorn left the clan he had called home, and traveled north to the frontier town of Wehnimer’s Landing. Guarrin, on the other hand, remained with his family, enhancing his combat skills by fighting against the more hostile creatures of his homeland, alongside his father and the other warriors of his clan. He and his family always looked forward to the regular letters they received from Altheorn.

When the letters ceased four years after Altheorn’s departure, Guarrin left to search for him, feeling almost glad at a chance for adventure. Looking back on his eagerness from the present, the giant shook his head. He blamed such foolishness on his youth and inexperience.

Fortunately, Guarrin did reach the Landing with little trouble. For someone who had spent his entire life with a small clan, even such a frontier town was an impressive sight. The giant had trouble focusing on his task for the first day or so, with all of the confusion around him.

After he was able to cease gawking at all around him, he was able to do some investigating, and found that his brother was last seen at the House of the Rising Phoenix. Naturally, that was his next stop.

Sadly, Guarrin could find little information from the members as to the current whereabouts of his brother. In the library, though, he was able to find volumes written by warriors whose names were known so prevalently that he, in his clan far away, heard them mentioned many times. He eagerly took in the knowledge he found there.

Thinking his search had failed miserably, the giant lumbered sadly down the block to his room at the local inn, when a faint hissing from the shadows caught his attention.

Although he was unaccustomed to cities, and the dangers that lurk in alleys, the combat instincts his father had imparted to him during his youth took over. He searched about, trying to find the source of the noise that caught his attention, when out of the alley stepped his brother, Altheorn.

Overjoyed, Guarrin spent the next few days in a happy stupor, not noticing the new differences that had appeared in his sibling. However, as the months went on, and the giant became accustomed to the town, and being with his brother again, he realized that Altheorn would no longer speak of home, and appeared to enjoy stalking about in the shadows. Even more curious, he seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of wealth.

Guarrin did not think much of it, at the time, however, and pursued his own goals. He read much of the honorable warriors who had passed before him, and like many, joined both the Order of Voln, and the House of the Rising Phoenix. He felt that both occasions were some of the happiest in his entire life. He and Altheorn, far from their true family, were even adopted by Lord Corwyne and his wife, Lady Maurora.

At that point, Guarrin met Corwyne’s father, Cendar. This man, his newfound grandfather, became one of the most influential people in his life. Though initially appalled by the giant’s lack of knowledge in the areas of history, magic, the Arkati, his family, and other such topics, Cendar saw much potential in Guarrin’s enthusiasm to learn.

For several months, Cendar spent much time with Guarrin, always teaching a lesson no matter the situation. Though he encouraged Altheorn to join them, the other giant would never accept Cendar’s invitation, and Guarrin felt that the two seemed to have distaste for one another.

Life progressed, with Guarrin learning as much as he could. He would often rest in Phoenix’s Hall. While doing so, he met two more teachers: Lady Evialla and Lord Germinal. The former enjoyed sharing her vast knowledge of history, while the latter instructed the giant on battle tactics and a group known as the Phoenix Protectors.

When Guarrin was nearly twenty, he learned that while he journeyed down his own path, Altheorn followed a much different one. The darker brother told the lighter that he made the wrong choices, told him that there was another way, a way that would bring him power and wealth beyond his wildest dreams. It was the way of Onar and Luukos.

Thankfully, Guarrin refused his brother’s temptations. It may have been his brother’s refusal alone, or that combined with jealousy over his newfound courtship with Starhaze, but whatever the reason, Altheorn was determined to see Guarrin fall.

Constantly, he would torment Guarrin. When his temptations to join him were met with continued refusals, Altheorn would attempt to sacrifice to Luukos one of his brother’s friends. Always, the giant would disrupt the ceremony, and always, Altheorn attempted to increase the turmoil within his brother, inviting him to strike him down, knowing full well he never would.

Finally, these attempts ceased, but that brought no relief. Guarrin knew his brother was merely biding his time, plotting against him. He believed, at the time, that whatever came next would be one of the most difficult challenges of his life. He was right.

One day, after he had mastered the Order of Voln, while returning to Icemule, he felt his brother’s presence like a shadow creeping over him. He turned slowly, noting the smug expression on his face. Altheorn had ever reason to look like that, as he had captured Starhaze, who was now Guarrin’s fiancée. Unless his brother allowed himself to be sacrificed in the name of Luukos, and swore fealty to him, she would die.

There was no help for the giant. The brothers were in the middle of nowhere, in the snowy fields of the north. Guarrin could no longer stand his brother’s smirk, and his grip tightened on the leather-wrapped haft of his waraxe. Before he could attack, however, he felt a small prick in the back of his neck, and fell to the ground. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was an elf walking out from behind a snow bank.

When he awoke, Guarrin wished the dart that hit him contained something far more potent than a simple sedative. Starhaze was bound, lying on top of an altar that was stained a dark red, with a heavy, coppery smell wafting up from it. He wanted to rush forward to free her, but realized he was bound just as tightly.

A laugh brought the giant’s gaze about to see Altheorn, along with another man he did not recognize. His brother looked him directly in the eye, telling him plainly that he was no longer welcome amongst Luukos’ fold. He assured Guarrin that all that remained was his demise, but first, he had a treat for him.

With that, Altheorn walked over to the altar where Starhaze was bound. He drew a long, curved dagger, and began a dark ritual. Guarrin struggled fiercely against his bonds, and for all his effort, received only another dart in his neck.

Eventually, Guarrin awoke from his sedative a second time. His bonds had been cut, but there was no sign of Altheorn or his associate. With a gasp of remembrance, he looked to the woman he was to marry. He knew it was too late, however, as her took her limp body into his arms. Not even his friend, Lord Shikel, a powerful cleric, could return life to her.

He and Guarrin buried her in a small ceremony in the Coastal Cliffs, by the Lovers’ Rock. Reflecting on that time now, Guarrin knew it was then that Altheorn succeeded in his goals.

A deep hatred, a fire of rage so pure flickered to life within the giant. Within moments, it grew to a raging inferno, and Guarrin could no longer contain himself. For the giant, the hunt began.

He knew his brother had learned when to run over the years, and he ran now. He ran up to Icemule, then to Pinefar, all the time pursued by the monster he, himself, created. Doubling back, he then led Guarrin south again, all the way to River’s Rest, where he could run no more.

At first, Guarrin could not even recognize the place where he brother ceased running. It appeared as though his brother led him to the site of a massacre. Bodies, so horribly mutilated, even their race was unrecognizable, littered the ground. Blood was smeared everywhere.

Then, he saw a set of familiar runes. Guarrin knew he was home, and the realization only fanned the fires of his rage. He ran through the burned out huts, seeking his prey.

Altheorn sat, an insane smile on his face, as he looked with glee at the sacrificed bodies of his and Guarrin’s dead birthparents. He said to his brother, laughing all the while, that this was his wish, all along, that everyone died because of Guarrin’s refusal to join him, and that everyone would have lived if he killed him when he had the chance.

Guarrin tensed briefly, then relaxed, knowing that now he sat far from the place, in his room at the inn. Try as he might, he could not fully remember the duel. He could only recall his waraxe clashing with his brother’s longsword, and then, biting into Altheorn’s flesh.

The image of his brother, bleeding to death at his feet, would, however, always remain indelibly etched into his memory, as would the grief of the realization that his brother had finally won. He remembered vividly the way his rage changed to grief, returning to rage, only to finally turn to an overwhelming sadness.

Sitting here, near River’s Rest, looking at his waraxe, the giant still felt a faint guilt over the past events in his life. Fortunately, he was able to come to terms with much of what he felt in the months following his brother’s death. He even returned to the Landing and House Phoenix for a short while, even joining the ranks of the paladins of House Onoir.

The slight smile from this morning actually returned, as Guarrin slung his double-headed axe over his shoulder. It was time to hunt….