Dakras takes out his Viola and begins to play small background tunes to complement the stories of the rest of his group. Once it is his turn to tell his tale he takes a moment to retune the instrument to his specifications.
“Well, I may as well make this good since it’s the first time any of you have heard it.” He begins to present his background starting at his childhood. “I doubt any of you have heard of it, but I grew up in the tiny village of Sleetborn on the edge of Tescanath, bordering Espil…. At this point I doubt even the ashes of it remain… But anyway, due to our locations and, I suppose you could call it squalor, we were widely ignored by everybody, nobles, taxers, everybody. That is except for border marauders every few years. Generally, the raiders were either turned away by the hardened residents wielding farming implements; or if the marauders were particularly skilled or numerous they would kill a few people, take what little luxuries we had and depart.” He looks down and lets out a small chuckle “Now that I think about it, I probably have more value on me at this moment than there ever was in the towns entire history.”
“One day however things went a little different… I must have been, oh maybe 7 or so? I don’t know if it was a foreign noble looking to add some extra land to his holding, a warrior wanting to add extra glory to his name by conquering some backward village nobody had heard of, or any other numerous possibilities. The end result was a larger, more skilled, and better-equipped group of invaders than ever before. They didn’t accept our surrender and continued to cut down anybody they came across. My family took refuge in our meager home, praying we would be overlooked.”
“We had no such luck, our door was kicked in just like everybody else in the area. My father put up a valiant fight, but in the end, he was a farmer, not a soldier. He bought enough time for my mother to attempt to hide me and the rest of my siblings. Some of us were under beds, others in the single wardrobe, just anywhere that could fit a body. Surely not all of us would have survived but if we remained silent perhaps at least one or two of us could have lived.”
“But one of my elder brothers could not restrain himself, the intruders turned their attention to our mother and he burst from his hiding place brandishing a woodcarving knife. He was able to take one by surprise and killed him, but then the remaining soldiers grew furious and brutal at the loss of one for own. Eventually, we were all tore from our hiding places and killed, but they found me last.”
“I will not attempt to embellish the story by claiming I somehow fought them off or went quietly to my fate. No, I cried and screamed for help from anybody, even though I knew there was nobody else alive to hear me. However it appears the dead could, the first to rise was my father, ever vigilant to danger to his family. As he fell upon the closest foe, his own murderer, the rest of them began to rise as well. Some of them with deep cuts into important body parts, some with caved in heads, it did not matter they all stood and fought.”
“I quickly scurried back into my hiding spot, and the screams rose once again. This time though the screams were from the soldiers, unsure what was happening. For once having such a large family was to my benefit” He cracks a solemn smile “Instead of fighting for food or clothes like in the past they now were working together for one purpose. They moved faster and were stronger than they were in life, and blows seemed to have no effect on them.” He has a hint of pride when speaking of their greater physical capacity, replacing the hollow sadness from before.
“Once the soldiers in our home were slain everything was still for a time. A few more groups came to try finishing the job but after a few more soldiers fell they eventually stopped, opting to just avoid the house and the horrific inhabitants. I do not know how I managed to perform this feat, or even if it was truly me.” His eyes turn to his holy symbol
“I remained in hiding for a number of days, I do not know how many, fearing that if I emerged that my defenders would turn into my assailants. Luckily the man that came to be my master came across the village investigating the smoke and carnage, just before I likely would have died from hunger and thirst.”
“From there I was taught the ways of the world and how to handle my apparent magical ability. Ironically even after leaving my small village, I remained secluded to the world as a whole due to the taboo nature of my abilities in the old world. From there my life was mostly boring in comparison, moving from town to town to city. I learned some mundane skills such as cooking and instruments to make myself useful and bring in some spare coppers. The only exciting events being the occasionally ransacking of a cemetery or old battlefield, and escaping from a hideout before a raid due to my master receiving a timely tip-off. From there It was time to try my own hand at surviving in the outside world. There was certainly more I could have learned from my master but in his view, life has more meaning by going at and having one’s own experiences rather than spending all of it as a student under another.”
“From there my master got word of a group heading to the new world and fabricated some references to get my passage secured. The rest of it is known to all of you”
After a couple of moments of silence, he speaks a small follow up to the tale “At some point in the future, if possible, I would like to revisit my old home and retrieve the remains of my family. I don’t know what I would do with them at the moment but I feel as if I should at least do something.”
When telling the story Dakras expands upon some of the close calls such as when a gravekeeper emerged in a graveyard after a dog began barking and his master simply turned invisible and allowed Dakras to find his own way out of the situation. To prevent everybody from having to read even more of my typing however I will end it here.