Redemption

So, this is one of my favorite, if not my outright favorite. It may not be my best piece of writing, but I feel like I conveyed the attitude and motivation of my character very successfully here.

Some things to know before you read: a Catfolk is exactly what it sounds like: a cat-person; they commonly have names with double letters in them. Oxrich was the main city in this game. A cleric is both a soldier and a healer; they also combat the undead.

Shout out to Kevin Neiger, our DM for this game.

Redemption

The Tale of Tesarr Beating Heart

            They truly loved each other.

           

            And that didn’t end when Deshass Beating Heart and his wife, Atharri, two simple Catfolk who lived in the forests near Oxrich, faced the cruel enemy at their door.

            The man came at night in the guise of a weary traveler. He knocked on the door of Deshass and Atharri’s home, asking for a drink. He was invited in, sat at their table, in their chairs, in their home.

He smiled.

Atharri left the house to fill the man’s water skin in their nearby water supply, what she came back to was altogether different. Deshass was being held a foot off the ground by the man. His face was buried into Deshass’ neck, blood pouring out from the sheer ferocity of the bite.

Atharri just stood there, astounded, unable to move, unable to speak.

The man dropped Deshass’ seemingly lifeless body onto the ground, turned to Atharri, and smiled once again, this time baring his fangs.

“Thanks for the drink.”

He turned and walked out the door.

Atharri looked at her husband’s body, in pure shock.

Time seemed to stand still…

Suddenly, Deshass began coughing, and grasping at his neck, trying to stem the flow of his precious life blood. Atharri ran to their locked chest, opened it with the hidden key, and retrieved the potion they had bought in case of an emergency.

And this was an emergency.

She poured the potion into Deshass’ mouth, implored him to swallow, which he was finally able to do. Before her eyes, Deshass’ wounds began to knit themselves, the magical liquid showing its power. When the bleeding had stopped, Atharri grabbed what little healing supplies they had, and applied them to Deshass. When she was complete she simply held him in her arms, repeating over and over again how much she loved him. And in a weak and feeble voice, Deshass at last replied “I love you too.”

Deshass had survived.

In a matter of speaking.

*                *                      *                      *                      *                      *

Deshass’ healing took weeks, but even after his neck had healed, he seemed ill. He would neither eat nor drink. He slept most of the day away and shivered with a fever at night. He could hardly stand.

In an effort to get her husband to eat, Atharri applied the little hunting skills she had and brought home a small deer. Not knowing exactly what to do after she had felled it with an arrow, she dragged the animal back to her home, expecting to have to get step by step instructions from Deshass. The animal was heavy, and it was nightfall by the time she returned. But when she arrived, there was Deshass, standing just outside of their home, staring.

Atharri didn’t know what to feel at that moment. She should have been ecstatic to see Deshass out of bed, but there was just something in his eyes…

After what seemed to be an eternity of silence, Deshass spoke.

“It’s still alive”, he said.

Deshass approached the deer as if in a trance. He knelt before it, and Atharri took several steps back. He let his hand run down the animal’s neck and gracefully let his mouth descend toward it, as if to give it a gentle kiss…

Then, as fast as lightning, Deshass sank his teeth into the deer’s neck and began drinking. Atharri couldn’t scream, couldn’t speak. She just fell to her knees with tears streaming down her face.

Deshass’ color returned to the skin behind his fur as he drained the deer. And just as suddenly as it had started, he tore himself from the animal and stared at it in horror.

“Oh, gods,” he said, “I’m one of them.”

Atharri knew the truth of it also, but still didn’t speak.

“I’ll leave,” he told her, “I don’t want you to be in danger. I’ll leave and you’ll never have to deal with this again.”

He stood up and walked. He didn’t bother to pack, didn’t even say goodbye.

He wasn’t given the chance to.

“No!” came the cry from behind Deshass. Atharri ran to him and threw her arms around him. “Don’t leave me. I love you so much. We’ll make this work. Don’t go, don’t ever leave me.”

Deshass smiled and held her against him. “I love you too.” He said.

*                *                      *                      *                      *                      *

Ten years passed.

*                *                      *                      *                      *                      *

“You drank this one too dry!” came the complaint from Atharri. “It’s not going to have much flavor…”

“Sorry, I thought I might have,” Deshass responded, “I can go hunt for another one, if you want.”

“That’s okay,” she replied, “you have an eight year old son outside who’s waiting for his next lesson.”

Deshass looked outside the window to see a young Catfolk boy parrying and thrusting in the torchlight with a small wooden sword in each hand. “It’s too bad that Tesarr didn’t take to the bow as I had hoped, I would have liked him to go hunting with me.”

“Tesarr may know about you, but he certainly doesn’t need to see you feed.”

“I know that you and I never got used to this, but it’s also who I am. I can’t hide part of my life from him, just as I don’t hide it from you. I love you both too much.”

Atharri let out a sigh. “Very well, just try not to scare him. I know I was scared the first time I saw you feed.”

Deshass smiled, stood up, and kissed his wife. “My love, I was scared the first time you saw me feed.”

Atharri conceded the point with a smile, and began to cook while Deshass walked outside to continue teaching his son. And tomorrow night…

Tomorrow night, he would take Tesarr hunting.

*                *                      *                      *                      *                      *

Wooden clashes echoed throughout the night as Deshass and Tesarr sparred. Even at the young age of eight, Tesarr combated like a warrior. Deshass had originally intended for Tesarr to train with a bow, but after several failed attempts, they both discovered that Tesarr didn’t quite have an aptitude for it. Therefore, in an effort to compensate, Deshass began training Tesarr in two-weapon combat, something that he took to very naturally.

They did this for hours at a time, sometimes into the very early morning, especially since Deshass could only start after nightfall. But neither complained. This was a special time for them, a time that helped grow their bond, their love for each other.

This night, Deshass intended for that bond to grow. The lesson would end early this night, and he would take Tesarr hunting with him.

When Deshass told Tesarr, the boy was overwhelmed with excitement. Deshass had to calm him down, to remind him that any loud noises would likely scare their prey away.

He also had to remind his son of what Deshass was, and that Tesarr would see him feed tonight.

“It’s okay, dad,” Tesarr replied, “nothing could bring us apart.”

  

Together, they strode into the woods, Deshass with a bow, Tesarr with a pair of daggers Deshass had trained with as a boy. It didn’t take long to find a large buck who was dipping his head to drink from a nearby spring. Tesarr climbed a tree and Deshass flanked around the other side of the buck. Deshass carefully took time to aim his arrow, steady his hand, and breathe out…

            The arrow soared true, piercing the animal behind its front leg. It turned and ran away from Deshass, but Tesarr fell from the tree on to the back of the buck.

            “Don’t kill it! Just injure it!” Deshass called. Tesarr, with a dagger in each hand, thrust down on either side of him, digging the blades deep into the buck’s legs, causing it to fall forward.

            Tesarr rolled off its back and onto the ground, standing just as his father arrived.

            “Wow, this was far easier with you here,” Deshass told his son with a smile, “I’d normally have to chase this thing around for half an hour!”

            He knelt in front of the animal, then turned to his son with a worried look.

            “It’s okay, dad, I know.” Tesarr assured.

            Deshass opened his mouth and gently let his fangs sink into the animal. Everything felt right with the world at that moment. Deshass thought that nothing could go wrong. He had a wife and son who accepted and loved him, despite what he had become. He could stop worrying about judgment, and continue just being a father and husband.

            He lifted his head and was horrified by the sight.

Tesarr had knelt near him, and had bitten into the buck’s already open wound, and was drinking.

            “No!” Deshass cried. He pulled his son away from the animal as quickly as possible. Tesarr looked back at him with confused eyes.

            “I…I just wanted to be like you, daddy.”

            “No, son, you can’t be like me. You don’t want to be like me.”

           

The silence that followed was ear splitting.

Deshass finally broke the quiet. “Just…don’t ever do that again, do you understand me?

“Never again…”

*                *                      *                      *                      *                      *

Tesarr was ill.

It actually brought a bit of relief to Deshass to know that the raw deer blood had made his son sick. So he and Atharri nursed Tesarr for a week, feeding him soup, tending to his fever.

But after another week, Tesarr didn’t seem to be getting better, but worse. Deshass and Atharri discussed bringing in a cleric, but were worried that the cleric would find out about Deshass and attempt to take action against him. So, after much deliberation, they agreed that Deshass would go into town at night and buy a potion to help Tesarr.

It didn’t take Deshass long, his abilities hastened his travel. He retrieved the potion, but also had to find a cave to avoid the dawn. The next night, he came home.

There were no torches lit, no light coming from the windows, everything seemed still inside. Deshass just assumed that his family had taken the opportunity of him not being there to go to bed at a normal hour, so he crept in quietly, trying not to wake anyone.

His ears perked at the sound coming from Tesarr’s bedroom.

The oh-so-familiar sound…

Deshass ran full speed to the room and shoved the door open.

            It was the worst thing he had ever seen in his life.

            Tesarr knelt over Atharri, his teeth deep into her neck. He was snorting and slurping, and seemed to have no conscious thought.

            “No!” Deshass shouted. He shoved Tesarr of off Atharri with a harsh charge. “Oh, gods, please be okay, Atharri, please be okay.”

            Deshass held his wife close.

Time seemed to stand still…

Atharri coughed and began sputtering her own blood. Deshass smiled and reached for the potion he had just bought. He bit the cork and opened the vial, bringing it to Atharri’s lips.

Tesarr leaped onto Atharri again, growling like a primal animal. The vial was knocked from Deshass’ hand, spilling the liquid all over the floor.

“NO!” Deshass cried again. He lifted Tesarr clean off the floor and launched him into the wall. Tesarr fell unconscious. “Atharri, please be okay. I can’t go on without you, please don’t go…”

Atharri coughed, and turned her head toward her husband. They met eyes, and she forced a smile. “D-don’t…don’t be angry, it’s not his…” she coughed again, losing more blood than she could spare. “It’s not his fault.”

And those were the last words of Atharri Beating Heart.

*                *                      *                      *                      *                      *

Tesarr awoke with a scream. He had known no worse nightmare in his life than the one he dreamed that night. The thoughts of him attacking his mother, his father’s anger, the blood…

Then he looked around himself.

The floor was stained with red, there was a shattered vial on the floor, and the house…

The house was empty.

“Mom? Dad?” Tesarr stood apprehensively, hoping this was all a dream. “Are you there? I-I had a nightmare. Can I come and sit with you for a bit? Mom...mommy…?”

He looked out the window and saw his father standing in the torchlight. In front of him, there was a grave. Tesarr could see the carving in the tree that served as the gravestone.

HERE LIES ATHARRI BEATING HEART

TAKEN BEFORE HER TIME

Tesarr immediately knew that it wasn’t a dream. None of it was a dream. Tears flowed from his eyes, soaking the fur on his face. “Daddy, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to! Please don’t be mad!”

Deshass looked to the window where his only child was begging forgiveness.

“Someday, son…someday.”

Deshass took the form of a bat and flew away, leaving his son alone.

Alone…

*                *                      *                      *                      *                      *

Seventy-five years later

*                *                      *                      *                      *                      *

Tesarr knelt before his swords, each standing upright in the ground, their points stuck in the dirt. He looked to the first, its black blade seeming to consume the light, rather than reflect it.

“I am sorry, mother, for the pain I caused you. May the pain this blade causes me serve as penance for my faults, for my weaknesses. I love you mother, and I always will. Let this blade be my punishment for your death”

He turned to his other blade, its enchantment causing it to shine a golden hue.

“And father, every day I hope to find you. I’m sorry for the hurt that you must feel, and I hope the actions in my life since that day will redeem me in your eyes. As this blade heals my wounds, may I find you someday so that we can heal each other’s hearts.”

He stood up, pulled the aptly named “Punishment” and “Redemption” from the ground, and sheathed them both simultaneously. He had been searching for a very long time, though he still looked to be a young man of 25, his father’s heritage slowing his age.

Tesarr knew that Deshass was out there somewhere. Though his age was merely slowed, his father would not age at all. For decades Tesarr had been asking about his father, and for decades it seemed like he was chasing a ghost. But recently, he learned of a man named Axel who prided himself in obtaining knowledge.

So Tesarr and Axel made an agreement. Axel would put his resources to work to find Deshass, and Tesarr would aid the previous king of Oxrich (a king much more tolerant of Axel and his ilk) whenever he needed help.

So Tesarr headed for the cave the king was hiding out in, hoping to earn information.

Hoping to find his father.

Hoping to find redemption. 

For those who care: Tesarr was a Half-Vampire Catfolk 7th level Fighter (10th level character with level adjustments) who specialized in two-weapon fighting.