FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"He never knew his mother, you know.

"Well the gist of it is, he didn't have one. Whoever gave birth to him was either told to leave soon after or dealt with by another means, I shudder to imagine how.

"Now his father, if you could call him that, was a cruel man. The kind of man that see's everything as a means to an end. And he had this.. boy, a human, that he could bend to his will. Naturally, he made a tool of the poor child.

"How? Well he trained him. He trained the boy as soon as he was able to stand, walk and hold a bow. He trained him brutally, and failure to learn was met just as brutally. If you look closely on his face, you see these little thin scars? That's where he was whacked across the cheek with an arrow.

"The sharp end of course, it hurt more.

"So he trained him to shoot, to hunt, and to kill, and soon the boy knew nothing else. Give or take a few years, his father was satisfied, and set him out as an assassin. Father would receive targets, and tell the boy to go here or there, with his bow, and shoot the target. That's all they were to him, any emotional attachment was beaten out of him a long time ago. So he'd hide, he'd pursue, he'd aim and then... well, he'd kill. The father would receive the profits, and the boy would get fed, like he was nothing more than an attack dog.. or one of those hawks they like to train.

"It was successful, from what I can gather, and the father was immensely rich as a result. And as you'd expect, he pushed his luck. The boy would receive targets that the father himself had picked, not to earn money, just to keep the man in power, or even just to keep him entertained. Sometimes he'd even pick nobles and political figures just to see if the boy could do it. And every time he did, it made him laugh that much more.

"How did it come to end? Well, the father had done his job too well, he'd become powerful, rich, so it was only time till someone wanted him dead, and they found the perfect means to do it. So one day, the boy received a message, same as the others, except this one said that his own father was the target. But what is a father to a tool? As it turned out, nothing, and no less than a day later, the father was found with an arrow in the back, slumped over his table, dead as a dormouse.

"So the messages stopped.

"Poor child, he had to have been only 14 at the time, and now he was an orphan, a tool without a user, a human without a purpose. He must have wandered the streets for about a week, unable to find food or shelter, or anything for that matter. It didn't take long for him to realize his only way out of the nightmare, and so he went to the local coast, found a cliff, and jumped to his death.

"Would have been successful too, had I not been around at the time. You could say our meeting was a rather dramatic clash. A shame too, lost a tasty halibut when he landed on my back. But alas he fell onto me, and I took him back up to the top of the cliff.

"He didn't talk, was so quiet, like you wouldn't believe. At first I thought he was just intimidated, not that I could blame him, but I quickly found out he didn't know how to talk, because he'd never been taught. As you'd expect, that intrigued me, so I read his mind, and learned what he was. And that intrigued me more, so it was off to my cave for him and me.

"I'm not one to adopt humans, especially ones that cost me my evening fish, but this was a special case, so I decided to tutor him, take him under my wing. We went from learning common, to draconic, and eventually moved on to magic. He took to the clerical spells as quick as anything. If I had to guess, I'd say it was because he'd taken so many lives, that being able to restore people was a pleasure for him.

"When we were not engaged in education, he'd actually go out of his way to educate himself, went through my libraries poring through all of my books, reading nonstop, practically inhaling information and knowledge like nothing I'd seen before. More often than not I'd come home late at night and he'd be there, in a comfy chair, passed out into a book, having read himself to sleep. Was rather endearing I have to say.

"He grew up, and he became a fine young man, his wit was quick but his thought was kind. There was just one problem: he couldn't use his full potential. His past experience with the bow had marred him to the point where he would flat out refuse to pick one up. You might say that was a good thing, but whether or not he liked it, he had a rare ability with archery that could be used to benefit others, to save people. However he refused, and so lead a pacifist life instead. That life was over for him.

"So he kept reading, he kept learning, and became a cloistered cleric in record time. I saw to it that he was given official recognition of that, even held a makeshift ceremony to congratulate him for it, right before I took him to the tavern for his first ale. This tool, that had once been nothing, I think that night was the best time of his life.

"Good times... they never last, do they?

"He, well he arrived about two or months later. I couldn't find him, but I could smell him, he had this... odor, that permeated the region like rotting meat. Typical brute, selfish and greedy and savage, Liked to corrupt people, make them turn on each other. Just so happens he used the local townsfolk to turn them on me.

"It was subtle, I'll give him that. We didn't notice it at first. Hushed whispers, fingers pointed in our direction, every now and then a scowl or a grunt. They didn't tell us, I wish that they had, I could have set their minds at ease, but alas, they garnered a hate towards us, fueled by this brute behind the scenes, tugging on their strings like puppets. Poisoning their minds, their very souls.

"And then... well, it happened. Me and my cloistered cleric entered the tavern one night and walked right into a trap. I blame myself to be honest. I trusted them, I thought they were better, but no, they tied me up, pushed him aside, and took me to the gallows to hang me like a criminal.

"I didn't want to hurt them, and I didn't, but he... he could have. Would have been in the right as well, they were about to kill his only friend. He had the opportunity, the bows were out so he could have done anything, shot them all down if he was so inclined. Hell he was so good he could have shot the rope before it went taught... but he didn't. Last thing I saw was his expression of horror, torn between his duty to preserve life and his heart wrenching desire to save me. I ponder sometimes which one won out, what he would have done had been granted enough time. But no townsfolk died, I fell, the rope went tight and my neck snapped.

"And so, I died. Death not being the end however, I went on to watch over him. I watched as his guilt tore him inside out, the pain tearing into his heart like a vulture. I wish I could have spared him that, he didn't deserve to feel so bad, not on my account. I watched on as he kept returning to the town to drown his sorrows in ale, the comfort of the drink gone, replaced with a cover for his torment. I watched as he became mournful, then bitter, then succumbed to depression, a sadness he'd never known before.

"Then this half dragon came along. Anderson I think his name was?

"Yeah, the white one.

"See, he saw him at the tavern one day, and in short, they got drunk. I mean extremely drunk, so drunk Anderson tried to sing. Its... not pleasant, I don't recommend letting him near a bard. Anderson bought all the drinks, they talked... and talked some more... until Anderson found out what he needed to know: why he was so unhappy. However it took a lot of ale and cider and whisky before he was willing to let that one slip. Meant a lot of gold was spent.

"Anderson, the wily lizard, decided to demand his coin reimbursed. He took this cleric and press-ganged him into his mercenary team until he had earned his debt away. Took about 8 months, which is interesting because that was a lot more in work than was spent in gold that evening. If you ask me, I reckon he kept him for longer to give him something to distract from his pain.

"He'd only heal though, at first. Healing injuries was no problem for him. However at one point they ran afoul of some bandits. It looked bad, they'd been camping at the time and so no one was in a position to fight. Anderson fought, but was beaten badly by the bandit chief, immense bastard with a hammer the size of a boulder, Anderson was within an inch of his life. Before that chief could deliver the finishing blow, out of nowhere comes an arrow straight into his back, killing him stone dead. Cleric had found his mettle, he wasn't going to let the same fate happen twice.

"He departed soon after that. Anderson gave him that special bow he's got now as a parting gift, told him that he could save others with it the same way he'd saved him. Even went out of his way to carve my name on its side. Said it would keep me close, apparently.

"After that? Well, he wandered. His purpose at that point was just to help other metallic dragons wherever he could. Nothing noble about it, or honorable or anything, it's just... well, what he wants. Went a couple of years this way, that way, anyway he could go and every way he was needed. Until eventually he wound up in Elyssia.

"And the rest... is history"

I glared at Borogh of the Dawnlit Sky as he finished his tale, somewhat incredulously, it took me a few moments to gather myself to respond, which is interesting for a brass dragon, since we are rarely at a loss for words. Eventually I was able to ask my silver associate "And you.. you expect me to believe all of that, this entire story, happened to a mere mortal?"

"Oh please Kervalikus" Borogh said with a smirk on his muzzle "What's a mortal if not a story with an ending?"

"Right" I huffed, climbing off my rocky resting place. "For a silver dragon, you're really despicable. Now if you'll excuse me, I think they left one of the cultist mages alive. I'm sure he'll be faaaar better conversation than you turned out to be."

"But... you asked me who he was" Borogh retorted, looking dejected.

"Then next time tell the truth, don't go oon and ooon about this whoooole tragic story. I mean for Bahamut's sake you nearly talked my ear off!" I made a show of cleaning my earfin out and left his resting place, muttering about a waste of a dragon ghosts time "Now... where's that mage? Heeeere magey magey magey...."