Disciple in the Making

by Naltic Armitos of Dark Ages


How can one write about their life in words? How can you emphasize the pain of a club to the head or a knife in your back by one you trusted? As is these are just words of my life in the hopes to spread the word of Ceannlaidir.. I do not know why I write this now, perhaps it is because I do not wish to be forgotten if I die... Again..


I was born near the outskirts of Mileth, in the east of the woodlands. My parents.. My mother was one of the dark kin of Dubhaim, my father a human. During a raid of the old Dubhaim, long before itís fall into ruin, my mother was taken captive by a group of warriors from Rucession. She was held prisoner for long months until she seduced a young warrior named Embril Otid, of thus she used to make her escape which is unknown to me. She returned to Dubhaim and was quickly driven out by her kin for being with child, let alone that they knew it was a half-breed. Her kin hunted her as if it were a game for over six months and for six months she loathed the child within her. She found safety in the woodlands of Mileth, where she gave birth to me.. I never knew her well.. The only thing she ever taught me was this very past of hers that I write of now, this very past was her reminder to me that not even family can be trusted. She hated me, but at the same time loved me enough to not let me fall into the same fate. I was abandoned at the age of 6; left to fend for myself in those cursed woods. I survived only because I was taken as a slave to a band of goblins and kobolds, who beat me and made sure I had no hopes or dreams left. I lived as such for a good five years, up till the day a man strode into our midst. Little did I know that he would be the one to forever change my life, though at the time he looked bold and scarred, his memory in my mind is more radiant then any. He took the lives of every creature in that encampment single handed, with me left alone cowering in bushes.. He found me and took me in and raised me as his own, His name was Dameron Armitos, a warrior of Ceannlaidir.


Years passed, and I was becoming a well-trained warrior under his hand. He had named me Nero Armitos, in the place of a son he had lost long ago to a fire. He thought of me as his own, and loved me as such. I had never known love.. It was strange to me, foreign. In my own way, I looked to him as my father and grew to love him as such. He took me into Mileth often, buying candies for me from madam Riona at the inn. Even when I was at the age of 20 he still did this as a learned habit; I always enjoyed it never the less, to be loved.. He taught me in the ways of Ceannlaidir, day in and day out. He taught me the ways of war, the ways of the blade, and the ways of a shield. He introduced me to Ericka, the caretaker for the temple of Ceannlaidir, and displayed me proudly as I slew my first goblin in the war godís sight. He never spoke of his lost family, all he would ever say is that they had died in a fire that he couldnít stop, and I never pushed further because he said that I was his family now, and jokingly that Ericka was family as well. Together we fought bands of kobolds and goblins, tracked wolves that had been killing farm animals, we even took done a Draco that had been bothering some locals of Mileth. We had become a team, and a trust had formed between us, one that was with our very lives.... Thus I forgot my mother and her teachings..


I was at the age of 25 when we moved to Rucession, I was excited to live within a sea side town. We spent the first few months working to spread the word of Ceannlaidir, once most knew of him or quickly closed their doors in our coming, we settled down and practiced our own faith. It was a good life, we had food and we had weapons, and a simple home. Everything was fine, life seemed as though at a peek of enjoyment in the eyes of a young man. Though I was a half-breed I still attracted enough eyes from the young women watching as Dameron and I trained, or so he would teasingly say. I felt at home, I could never explain in words how it feels to truly feel like your home.. It was all fleeting however.. One night came were I didnít rest so soundly, I dreamt of hideous creatures roaming through crumbling halls, everywhere I looked there was death and decay. I dreamt of a woman, a woman that seemed so familiar, yet not even recognizable. I began to slip into sulking periods for no apparent reason, which worried Dameron so much that he even took me to see a priest of Glioca, an enemy of our god. Nothing could be done for me; I myself didnít even know the cause of this depression and illness that was beginning to sweep through my body.

Weeks later I began dreaming of the crumbling empire of death once more, though this time the woman was calling to me, but when I woke she was still calling me.. I followed her faded image and echoing voice, how long I walked I didnít even seem to know. I walked through a dead forest for what seemed an eternity, until I came to the walls of a fallen structure.. It was in ruins, though buildings still stood, they were still decaying, at the same time I sensed a presence of death and hatred for the living.. I was appalled, yet intrigued at the same time. I walked through the crumbling gates leading into the skeletal frame works of stone; I walked with the image and answered to its echoing call. I walked through the crumbling halls into an empty room, though it was filled with eyes and voices. Tortured cries and screams surrounded me yet sickly I enjoyed it, until I came face to face with an abominable creature. Itís skin falling from its bones in sickly purple sags; itís eyes following my every move with a hunger that made my own skin crawl. It gurgled, itís voice lost to decay, yet I understood every word it wanted me to hear. It told me that I was a child of Dubhiam, and that I was welcome back among them. I had no conscious thought of my own, the image spoke again in her echoing voice bidding that I was to follow in her path, their path. My heart wrenched in pain as I wanted to cry out in an answer of refusal, but my head simply nodded in agreement. Anger and rage burned from within, and I felt my will being drained from me. I felt dead inside, thus I wanted everything around me to be dead as well. The creature looked into my eyes with a ghastly smile and simply pointed to the door... My mind was no longer my own.

A year had passed since that dream, or had it been reality? I still do not know to this day, though I try to forget this part of my life. I had resumed my life as I had gone about years before training daily with Dameron, and going back to Mileth to share old tales with madam Riona. I had began seeing a young woman named Arimai, though the relationship had been tainted from the very beginning, thus I will avoid further mention. Dameron and I had become quite known within Rucession and Mileth, people called to us for aid, and we went at every beck and call. Life had resumed itís purpose for me, I was happy again, until one day Dameron and I began our regular training, and that same dead sickly feeling swept over me once more. A voice I will never forget echoed through my mind.. "I am your mother and you are my child of death, you are born of death so shall you bring death." The voice told me, and I lost all control of myself once more. I began making vicious strokes at Dameron to his astonishment, though he was skilled enough to evade them, I caught him off guard and thrust my blade deep into his chest... I killed him. The only family I knew, the very father I had known all my life who had taught me and raised me. I fell to my knees in realization of what I had done, I clasped his dead body in my arms as I cried. No matter how hard I try I still see his pained expression in my mind, I had betrayed his trust.. I had forgotten my motherís teachings and she had come back to remind me of them. I took his body to the temple of Ceannlaidir and begged him to forgive me and let Dameron stand proudly by his side in death. I begged Ericka to allow me to take his place within the temple of Ceannlaidir in the hopes I could redeem myself in his eyes. Thought reluctantly, she accepted me and helped me rebuild my life.

I had just turned 29, I had moved back to Mileth to escape the home I could no longer call mine. I had become a guard of the town trying to make a living and up hold the peace and law. I had quickly gained the respect of the guards and moved on to become one of the first Captains in Mileth. A young warrior named Bentic and I had been the first of later to be many Guard Captains. I worked hard to enforce the laws, and I gave thanks to Ceannlaidir daily, and prayed that I be forgiven. I became known as the Paladin of Justice, though not of the god of law, I was prized to him, my heart belonged to Ceannlaidir. I lived a long life... I know that is hard to understand being that I am standing here writing this now, not even I truly understand that. I came to the day when Ceannlaidir, the god I had followed all my life and given thanks to every day, spoke to me. He commanded I take my own life so that I might stand beside him and my foster father, I could do nothing else but what he commanded, though I felt as unworthy as any other would have. His booming voice still shakes in my mind to this moment. Thus I drew my dagger, laid it gently upon a table and began to scribe a note that I later left on a well used posting board with the very dagger I used to slay myself. I plunged the dagger up to the hilt, withdrew it and stuck it in the note upon the board, with my remaining strength I went to the temple of Ceannlaidir and collapsed dead into Erickaís very arms...


A full life I have lived.. And I still remember it, though here I am now.. I have been given life anew by Ceannlaidir. I know not why, nor do I ask questions of the will of a god. I awoke on the very temple floor where I had died. I saw a vision of myself setting aside my blade and shield and taking up a stave, I adorned the priestly garbs and praised Ceannlaidirís name. I had been given life anew, as a new person, as one of his children. I am Naltic Armitos; Disciple of Ceannlaidir until death takes me a final time.