Reflections of the Past

[Kayne]

The young runt of a boy summoned all of his strength to swing the longsword, clumsily arcing the blade towards the much taller, stronger man, who easily parried the blow.

"Come on, what are you doing?" one of the mercenaries from the camp laughed, "Kayne, why don't you use a smaller sword, one right for your size?"

"Heeeyah!" the young genasi grunted in effort as he attempted another strike towards the older man dueling him. His awkward strikes bounced harmlessly away from the parrying of the experienced man training him, who effortlessly fended off the sporadic attacks.

"Suit yourself, you thick-headed rock!" the mercenary spat in retort as Kayne struggled to fight with the over-sized blade, using every ounce of his strength just to lift the heavy blade off the ground and using the momentum to swing the sword.

Taking a chance and gathering all of his might, Kayne brought the sword down with as much force as his immature body could summon. The older fighter sidestepped the blow, watching the blade pass by harmlessly as the weight of the blade dragged the boy with it, and threw him off balance. Teaching Kayne an important lesson, he brought his knee up swiftly, striking the boy full in the stomach and dropping the helpless child to his knees.

"Look, we don't carry any baby-sized swords for kids here anyway." the man, growled.

In the background, several of the mercenaries whispered amongst themselves as they watched them go on.

"Hey, is it true that kid was born from a corpse?" one of the mercenaries near the training field whispered to the other sitting beside him.

"Yeah, his wife," the other mercenary said as he motioned to the man training Kayne. "He was found by her body, still attached to the womb."

"Just look at him! Lilia was cursed the moment she conceived him." a fatter man near them chimed in, "If it wasn't for him, she would probably still be with us."

Kayne, overhearing the conversation, became empowered with rage. He managed to summon more strength and stamina to fight on, lifting the blade completely off the ground with a primal fury that coursed through him, at the mention of being a curse to his parents. He swung harder and faster, much to the surprise of the others, only to be knocked down repeatedly by his father following each attempt.

[Kayne]

The sun's rays shimmer through the forest canopy, raining down upon two men standing within the grove, bathing them in a divine light. A rather large young man for his mid teens, with raven black tresses prowls in a low stance with his sword drawn, as if ready to strike at the older swordsman presented before him. The older man's chiseled features showed that of a seasoned warrior stood there perfectly still, leaning slightly on a wooden staff, watching the younger man carefully. The light zephyr's of autumn rustle the myriad of colored leaves, the light dancing around the younger swordsman, playing along his developing features, yet encompassed the older man in complete light. The younger of the two suddenly rushes forward with his sword drawn, lunging at the older combatant with the intent of running him through. With lightning fast reflexes the older man twirls on his heel evading the blow and brings the staff down forcefully between the younger man's shoulder blades, knocking him into the soft soil of the woodlands.

The older man speaks in a brutal and scolding tongue, "Kayne, how many times must I tell you not to rush headlong into your enemy? You gods-rotted dolt! You leave yourself wide open for your opponent to slice you wide open! I will beat it into your useless brain if I have to!"

Kayne brings himself slowly to his feet, in obvious pain, and bows his head shamefully before the older man, "I apologize, father. It was my initial instinct."

Shaking his head, Maxus puts his hand on his step-son's shoulder. He pushes him back harshly and commands, "Again, with some bloody tactic this time. Think for once in your sorry excuse for a life!"

Kayne smirks slightly, the verbal blow rolling off his shoulder as if it meant nothing. He had learned to absorb the daily abuse of his father, both physical and mental. His training sword held in the same position as his last attack, the young swordsman digs his feet into the underbrush of the forest floor. He backs off, and suddenly charges in again, anticipating the same counter-attack as the prior. He dives forward before the initial thrust sending a flurry of dirt backward from his kickoff. In attempting to pass through the downward blow, he succeeds in dodging the attack only to catch the staff upside his head on the return swing, sending him tumbling headlong into a bush.

Max rushes to make sure Kayne did not break his training sword, kneeling before the boy, reaching into the pricker bush. He shakes his head slightly and speaks in annoyance, "You sodding twit, are you daft? I didn't think you would be thick headed enough try it again. You will never be a swordsman as I am if you keep this up."

Kayne smiles up at him, with small needle like protrusions poking in his face and nods aggressively, "I will try harder, father!"

Max laughs heartily at the pathetic sight of Kayne sitting in a pricker bush, with spikes all over his body. He begins pulling at his leather tunic, "Let's get you cleaned up, you little bastard, we are to have dinner with our employers and I don't want you to look like a sodding pincushion."

Kayne looks up to him wide-eyed and his mouth drops open, "I am invited for dinner?"

Max smiles darkly and nods in answer, "Yes, you will be serving our guests and myself dinner."

Kayne grins ecstatically and kneels before his mentor, "Thank you, sir! I feel so honored to...!"

Max reaches forward and slaps his face in one quick motion, forcing Kayne to jolt his head to the side to soften the blow.

Kayne suddenly blushes for his outburst of emotion and rubs his cheek, correcting himself abruptly as he does, "I mean. Thank you, father."

With that, Max turns and walks off towards the mercenary camp.

[Kayne]

A massive greataxe slashed brutally across the mercenary’s chest, sending him stumbling backwards with the grave wound. A second swing cleaved deep into the neck of another advancing mercenary, causing his lifeblood to spray profusely into the air like a fountain. The third blow came crashing into that final soldier’s head, splitting his skull like a coconut and sending the man crumpling to the floor, dead.

The behemoth of a man wielding the axe bellowed outward with a mocking laughter as his opponents fell before him, one by one. He stood like a giant obsidian statue, completely clad in plated armor and towering over the small group of mercenaries. Each eyed one another sharing worried glances, some commenting on the man’s infamy.

“Ugh, he's invincible!” one exclaimed backing into the small group in a craven manner.

“Has he even suffered a scratch?” another asked, his face blanching nearly completely.

The massive armored knight’s voice boomed over the small group, “So long as I stand here, none shall pass!” His gaze loomed over the remaining mercenaries as he called out, “Who else wants to fall to the edge of Foecleaver?”

An older veteran of the group backed away with his eyes wide. “Run for your lives, he is an aspect of Tempus!” he said in awe before he turned and bolted.

“Quit your dawdling you cowards!” shouted the only mounted warrior among the small band of mercenaries. “Defeat him and earn your bounty!”

“He’s talking nonsense,” one of the younger men commented about their commander. “They're not offering to pay that much.”

“He is known as the Bear…” said a young warrior who pushed his way through the craven mercenaries cowering among one another. He was abnormally tall and of muscular frame for a youth his age, in his mid-teens. He wore a battle harness, too poor to acquire any real armor. On top of his head was a small helm and strapped to his back was a bastard sword, which was roughly as large as he was. He strode forward and emerged from the crowd, his hand resting firmly on the hilt of the blade, staring defiantly at the dark knight.

“Who is that?” one of them spat in disbelief. “He’s just a kid!”

“Look at the size of that sword!” another chimed in. “Does that runt think he’s actually going to swing that thing around?”

“It’s just for looks,” said another adding to the insults. “He’s going to be slaughtered.”

“That’s Maxus’ kid… He has next to no experience.” The last comment came from the commander, yet he did not stop him. He half-smirked to himself as Kayne stood before the Gray Knight, facing his impending doom.

“Hey, kid. Do you really want to fight with me?” The axe-wielding knight taunted, as he bellowed in genuine laughter this time. “I see you’ve got some balls, but you’re going to regret it.” He warned in a sporting tone. “Either way,” he continued, his voice rumbling out over the others, “…That a kid like this is allowed to fight on the battlefield. Are all the men in your company cowar-”

The Dark Knight was unable to finish the verbal blow as Kayne rushed him, sword already drawn and lashing out at him wildly. The Bear was taken completely by surprise and fought to ward off the repeated blows, kept completely on his heels as he backpedaled to avoid falling over. Kayne struck high, forcing the knight to raise the axe to guard the blow, only to drop it at an angle so Kayne’s next swing wouldn’t bite into his leg.

“He’s dominating him,” the commander exclaimed in disbelief, almost doubting what he was seeing.

Finally spying an opportunity to attack as Kayne just barely let up, the giant of a knight brought the axe down as fast and as hard as he could. The young mercenary was able to bring the blade up, just fast enough to catch the blade of the axe, causing the axe’s edge to crack. Kayne matched the grown knight’s strength and held him off.

Breaking off from the deadlock, Kayne spun away then recoiled and swung his sword with all his might, just as Brutus brought the axe down upon his head. Kayne’s heavy blade dug deep into the knight’s side, cleaving through armor and flesh, blood leaking out over the man’s armor. The crack in the axe caused the blade to break off, as the blow to Kayne’s head merely knocked the helm off of his head and dazed him.

The injured knight dropped to one knee with his eyes wide in both pain and shock, the blood pouring from the wound freely. He gasped loudly and collapsed to the ground with a thunderous fall, now lying on his back with a puddle of red blossoming beneath him. “Mercy!” he called out as Kayne raised the sword over his head, his eyes wide with bloodlust.

But Kayne did not give it to him and growled, "You've killed too many of my brothers," just before he brought the heavy blade down between the knight’s eyes maliciously, cleaving his skull in two. The young warrior knelt down and snatched Foecleaver from the defeated warrior, then stood over the fallen knight and called back to his commander, "I believe you have some gold for me?"