Story: What Sarvis Says

[Darren Tereos]

I was a soldier during the Third War. We marched for long nights under the lead of our commanders. I still remember the sound of armor clanking as we marched. One night, as the sun set, we came upon the enemy.

“No, that wasn't me. Someone else must have said that.” Dayari paused in his writing, crumpled the paper and placed it in his backpack amongst the readily growing assortment of hastily scrawled stories. “I should write things down.” Dayari mumbled to himself. “Jongo said I should write things down.”

Shadow Priest Sarvis glared at me. I think he thought I should be saying something instead of shrugging at him.

“What do you mean you don't remember? You should know something of your past life.”

I didn't though. Not more than bits and pieces. I had already told him about having worn boots, seeing deer, and someone handing me a coin with strange writing on it.

“Well, what did you do, kill anything?” Sarvis tapped his foot impatiently.

“No....I don't think so.”

“I'd know it if you were a healer, so that's another 'no.' Ever work magic?”

“No.”

“Steal anything?”

“No. Wait. I was hungry once and took something from a cart.”

Sarvis sighed, I remember it because it made a strange sound, like dust settling and paper cracking. “Good enough. Fine, get yourself to Marion Call in Brill and be out of my sight!”

For three days I wandered through Tirisfal Glades, being chased by Duskbats and Darkhounds. Eventually I found my way to Brill. It looked familiar, like I'd been there before. No, I had not. I definitely had not been there before. Someone pointed me to this Marion person and I found myself before her, in what looked to be a tavern. I drank at one once...no a bunch of times. Actually, I'm upstairs from her now. She doesn't say much to me anymore.

Dayari stopped his hand and listened, hearing the sound of someone crying into some mug of grog.

“I don't understand why he did this to me,” came the sound from below. Another person telling their sob story. Dayari didn't understand what compelled the living to spend their lives listing a litany of dirty deeds done to them.

”Dayari? Not quite what I was expecting, considering Carkad himself has taken an interest to you. Looks can be deceiving though, right?” I didn't know who Carkad was nor did I care he was interested in me. From there, it's a blur. I did some things, gave some letters to people, and someone called me a Deathstalker. There was a demon too. I killed him later.

But, that was how I became one with the Shadows, killing and stealing my way through the world. I don't think it's supposed to be a good thing. But, it beats whining in some tavern.