rioswriting-blog

[rioswriting-blog]

Draven Barratta the Animal of Luskan

(This is set in The Forgotten Realms on the Sword Coast and is a lead-in for my character in our D&D campaign)

My love

I am writing this to you in one of the rare moments of clarity I find. As I am sure you may have noticed they are becoming fewer and further between. I fear that my mind will continue to degrade until such time as I am unrecognizable from the man I once was. I am writing this that if one day I am to complete my great hunt and pass onto the next world you will be able to read and perhaps understand why at the end I was the mindless beast that I had become. I do not have many memories of my life before I was a gladiator, before the change. I know I was once human, at least I think I was. My parents were not the best parents, they were abusive and I suffered greatly during my time with them. They saw that I had everything I need but I spent most of my time with them in fear, huddled in the corner, like a scared helpless animal, or a pathetic abused pup.  I wonder my dear, have you ever seen an abused animal backed into a corner? Some say snakes will not bite unless you back one into a corner or a helpless dog will become all the more ferocious like the wolf when abused for too long. Such is what happened to me, one day enough had become enough, the stick can only be used so long without the carrot being needed. I lashed out with all the might I could manage, I am not proud of what I did, I struck my father once, twice, thrice and on the fourth such time, he stopped struggling. While my mother survived my rage she held no pity for me, she loved my father dearly and was deeply saddened by his death. She fled to tell the city guard of my actions leading to the chain of events that sees us in our position we are at today. I hold no blame for her for this, blinded by grief as she was. She held no love for me but loved my father more than life itself, I do not know if I would do the same in her position so I will not judge her. I was sent to a gladiator school for my crimes, trained to die for the enjoyment of others. The training was brutal, days and nights I would spend getting stronger, tougher. My days became the same I would wake up, train, eat and in the evening's spa against the other gladiators. These sparring fights were brutal, if we win we got better quality food then the gruel they fed us normally. Have you ever seen caged starving animals fight over scraps of food? It is not a pleasant site the stronger get stronger while the weaker get smart or die. I was one of the weaker ones in those early days, I remember many nights sitting awake my belly rumbling for food but not being able to sate my hunger. It was on one such night two ten days out from my scheduled debut fight against some unnamed Gladiator from the sword coast. I was expected to lose the fight, thrown to the wolves so the speak and I was scared. I remember that night sitting awake on the walls that surrounded the school when I first saw it, a bull, its long horns sticking out from the long grass that surrounded the school. I do not know what came over me, maybe it was malnutrition maybe it was a calling from Baphomet, I decided to hunt it. I stalked the beast and had it cornered surprised when it stood on its hind legs right in front of me, I was shocked, I had never seen a Minotaur before little own one that I would one day learn to be a Shaman. The Minotaur did something to me which marked me, a strange mark down the side of my body as it fled into the plains. Disappointed at returning marked and empty handed I bedded down for the night weary of what was to come. The first thing you feel the day of a fight is dread, a nervous energy that does not shift, it sits in your gut like a lead weight slowing you down, The same feeling will follow you whether it is your first fight as a weakling human or your one-hundredth fight as the beast. That day was the worst though, I was pitted against a sadist who seemed to take pleasure in how slow and painful he could kill me. I still remember clearly as if it were yesterday, the pain of his sword lancing down my back. The fight seemed to drag on for hours as he slowly picked apart my weak body. I remember him standing over me, the fear I had felt when my father stood over me returned as did a singular sound, a hunting horn from a great distance. I could tell by my opponents face he did not hear it. The horn sounded again, this time loud enough to cause pain, blackness consumed my vision and what I saw in front of me I will remember till the day I pass. I was not aware at the time, how could I have been? What stood in front of my vision was Baphomet the Demon Lord. His voice was so terrible I still hear whispers of it in my mind to this day. It said to me that it would teach me how to hunt, give me the power to kill, grant me a release from the fear I felt my entire life allowing me to instill it in others. I accepted. What happened next I was unsure of my memory became murky, I remember my body being wracked with pain, like a fire raging through my body, I remember my senses sharpening, I remember the feeling if rough horns pushing through my skin out of my skull. I opened my eyes, my skin once a tanned colour had become ash white, I had taken on fiendish features, my fingers were claws and I had a tail I did not before. In my hands, I held a strange weapon I had never held before, a Greatsword with bone-like wicked looking spikes sticking out of the hilt. This sword I later named the endless hunt which as you know I carry to this day. The transformation must have shocked my opponent for he stood before my new form slack-jawed, his arms hanging by his side his sword hanging loosely from his hand. Turning on his heels he ran terrified of my new appearance. My senses sharpened almost as if his running triggered something in me, something more bestial, my vision almost narrowed till I could no longer see anyone other then my prey, my hearing was muted as only his footfalls registered in my ears. I chased him down surprised by my own quickness catching him easily, I reached up around his throat and lifted him off the ground, I was much stronger than I ever thought possible, pulling him close to my face I looked him in the eyes and was shocked to see my appearance reflected in his eyes. Gone was the boy scared of the world, replaced with a snarling monster two huge horns jutting forward from the monsters brow and tusks jutting up from his mouth. Lifting the Endless Hunt light as a feather with my new found strength I drove it up through his chest, the hot splattering of his blood raining down across my arm giving me an almost copper taste in my mouth as if I could taste the blood on the air. That first kill will always stick in my memory, the day my life changed, gone was the scared boy, the abused pup frightened of a much larger world. In his place was the beast, that day I took the name Draven Barratta which you know me by now. That night after the thrill of battle had worn off was the first night I felt the urge. It starts as an itch you see, deep in my skull which over the next few nights grows to almost physical pain as my senses expand. Picture your skin being so sensitive even the brush of cloth against it is enough to send lances of fire through your veins, or your hearing so sharp that a footfall is enough to wake you, your sense of taste becomes so sharp that even the cooks preparing a carcase for cooking is enough to send your mouth watering with uncontrolled hunger as the copper taste of blood will not leave your mouth. My trainer and I tried many ways to stop this urge, or to at least lessen the effects of it, we drugged me to the stage where I couldn’t function but still, the urge persisted. I found drinking helped lessen the effects but it did not completely remove them, the only way to remove the effects of the calling is to chase, to hunt and to kill, to instil in those the fear that I had instilled into me as a child. I am not proud of the beast that I become during this, but I am glad for the guidance I find in you during the worst of these moments. This cycle continued on for months and months, I would suffer in training camps from the urge. Beating my training partners did nothing to quench this urge in me for I was forbidden to spill their blood or to taste of their flesh. My only reprieve came from my scheduled appearances in the arena where I was allowed to unleash my fullest potential on those put against me. I quickly became a crowd favourite, the roar of the crowd and the urge pushing me to braver and braver displays of fighting prowess. This was my life for many moons until that day we met. I remember that day well, it had been near two weeks since my last hunt and I was deep inside of the urge not even the calming voice of my trainer was able to cut through the cloudiness of my mind. He had kept me chained and weighed down with great balls of lead to stop me from tearing him or another student apart. I remember vaguely him saying something about me fighting one of my own kind and that you were well known. I did not care at the time, it was finally a time to end my suffering at the hands of Baphomet if even for a short time. I remember I was dragged into the arena my sword appearing in my hand as it had a will of its own, the roar of the crowd matching that of me as the chains were finally released. I saw you standing there across from me, what a pitiful sight I must has been to you, a snivelling mess of a creature compared to your grace and elegance. I remember looking into the porcelain mask you wore, the confusion and beauty of its design driving me to greater anger. I thought our fight was to be an easy one for me I charged in trying to end you quickly the Endless hunt becoming a blur in my hand as our dance increased in intensity. You seemed to move like the wind constantly changing direction driving my anger to new heights. What a sight we would have made the two of us, so evenly matched, trapped in an endless dance where the first to misstep would be their last. You pushed me to a new level of the urge that day, the frustration at not being able to hit you and your refusal to run angered me, your constant cuts against my flesh, too weak or off center stung but caused no damage driving me into a further frenzy, then it happened. The first misstep in the dance was yours, the slight shift in your left boot in the sand giving away your next strike, I reacted faster than I ever have before launching a flurry of attacks at your mask finally forcing you to match my strength for strength, a contest much more in my favour. I knocked off your mask and finally saw your face. I know not what I saw under the mask for the next few moments are lost to me in the sea of my memories, I remember a feeling of cold dread as my body refused to respond to my commands as your eyes overtook my mind cutting through Baphomet’s urge. It was at that moment I had all the clarity I needed the peace of your gaze settling my mind. I still hold to my story in saying that you cheated me that day with your next attack, but I do so in jest. I ended up somehow on my arse in the sands of the arena you standing over me blades at my throat. I know not why you spared me that day but I am glad you did I felt a strong connection to you and once I was granted my freedom from the arena I was glad you let me accompany you on your journey. I am glad you seem to understand the urges I go through and are often to calm me out of the urge or at least provide me with someone to hunt when you are unable to. I know not why you are heading towards this Yawning Portal tavern in this Waterdeep. I do not know that if in my mindless ramblings if I have mentioned why I want to head there, but it is said that Baphomet lives at the end of a great maze, and I for one cannot think of a greater maze then that which lies underneath the Yawning Portal. I intend to hunt the Demon Prince himself strike him from my mind and free me from my urges. I feel the itch starting to return as we travel in this wagon towards Waterdeep. I look at you sitting across from me in the back of this wagon, your mask still in place the mark still left in there from when the Endless Hunt caught you and I smile. I do not remember your face, but I hope that one day I will be able to see it and remember it once more. But for now I must end this letter and hunt, not the higher races but I feel a doe may suffice for today. I hope this letter provides you with some clarity as to why I am who I am. Thank you, for everything, yours trulyDraven Barratta the Animal of Luskan.