Way of the Fist:
Dratian's Tale

I suppose I'll start at my first memories of life, at the Monastery of Davoi. This was before the Crystal War of 20 years past when the Orcs invaded Davoi and made it their stronghold. It was a monastery devoted to studying the teachings of Altana. The priests were trained to minister to the masses, and the monks were trained in the ways of the fist, to defend the priests and temples. I was an orphan taken in by the priests and monks of Davoi. I never knew my parents, and all I know of them came from what I was told. I was born in Tavnazia, and my father died defending it. My mother escaped with me to the mainland, and she was killed by roving Orcs in the Jugner Forest. As the Orcs were going to have a quick snack with an Elvaan infant, the monks came to my aid, and killed the Orcs. All blood ties were gone, these priests and monks were my family now, and they were gracious hosts indeed. They began to teach me in the ways of the fist so that one day if I needed to, I could defend myself. I wished that day would never come, but unfortunately it did.

About 21 years ago when I was only 6, the Orcs launched a full-scale attack on Davoi. Their war-machines battered down the gates, and began to bombard the monastery itself. I watched in horror as I saw a second family taken from me. I could do naught but watch the slaughter as I saw the priests and monks I had come to view as fathers and brothers fall beneath the Orcish assault. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, all the while hearing the screams of Elvaans being decimated by the merciless Orcs. I had made my way through the Monastic Caverns and was about to leave when suddenly, someone or something grabbed me! I tried to scream but was too afraid. I tried to struggle, but was far too weak.

I heard a voice say, "Young elvaan be quiet if you want live. I not hurt you. I take you somewhere safe."

I looked, and to my horror, an Orc had ahold of me. I was so terrified, that I passed out, leaving this unlikely savior to get me out of harms way and take me to a place of refuge.

I began to regain consciousness, and saw the Orc sitting by me. I was too weak to move, and all I could do was cry. I begged the Orc not to kill me, and to my surprise, the Orc took his massive hand and patted me on the head.

"I not kill you young Elvaan, that is not my way. Not all Orcs hate Elvaan, and not all Orcs are bloodthirsty killers like ones you seen."

I couldn't believe that this Orc for one, could speak in a fairly civilized fashion, and two seemed to be a sensible sort that didn't want to have me for dinner.

"You have name young one? Mine is Likbokdek, or as the Orcs of the Horde call me, Likbokdek the Yellow-Tailed."

I finally mustered up the courage to speak.

"My.... My.... My name is Dratian."

The Orc laughed and said, "Yes, Dratian is good name. It sounds strong."

I asked my host why he was called "Yellow-Tailed."

"Orcs of Horde label me coward. I think we should try make peace with Elvaan, and Mithras, and Humes, and Tarus. They exile me because I walk way of peace."

Likbokdek began to tell me of how he used to be a Champion in the Orcish Horde, a Monk of the highest rank. After he refused to kill a young Hume they had captured in Battalia Downs, they held a tribunal, and labeled him a coward. He was stripped of all rank and honor. They labeled him an exile and if seen they would kill on sight. I lay there riveted by the story this Orc told me. He told me of the things he had seen, the slaughters he had witnessed, and a tear ran down his face. This surprised me most of all: the fact that beastmen can feel. As he continued to tell me his story, I fell to sleep, and thus began a new chapter of my life.

For the next 10 years of my life, Likbokdek was my trainer and closest companion. He taught me how to live off the land, how to speak in the different beastman tongues, and the way of the fist. He built on the teaching I had received in Davoi as a child, and my strength and proficiency in the way of the fist grew by leaps and bounds. Likbokdek was no longer an Orc that I feared. He was my best friend that I loved dearly, and would willingly give up my very life to defend. But as it happened twice in my life before, again I would lose everything.

A scouting group of Orcs finally found our cave, and attacked us early in the morning. For the first time, I saw Likbokdek use his mastery of the fighting arts on another living being. He fought his way out of the cave, decimating every Orc in his path.

He shouted to me, "Run Dratian!! Run to Jeuno, you be safe there!!!"

Then to my horror I looked behind me, and saw an Orc plunge a massive sword through Likbokdek from behind. At that moment, I don't know what came over me, I remember sadness the likes of which the seas of Vana'Diel could not contain. I felt rage that no mortal or undead being on this plane had ever felt. I took my life in my hands, and charged the band of Orcs. Master Likbokdek had told me years before of a secret technique that allows the Monk to devastate their opponents with incredibly fast blows, the art of the Hundred Fists. He said that I would learn it on my own, in a time of great peril, a time when my life was on the line. This was that time. I tore through the Orcs like an enraged Behemoth; punching and kicking faster than they could even react. I made my way to the Orc that killed Likbokdek. With a surge of adrenaline I picked it up by the throat, and crushed it's neck. A couple of Orcs escaped, and ever since that day, the Orcsish Horde refers to me as Dratian the Iron Storm, because the survivors said I crushed them with fists of iron, and raged in like a massive storm that batters the land. At that moment, I realized that this was what Likbokdek had trained me for all this time. He knew this day would come, and he laid down his life for me. I buried him in the cave where we lived for those 10 years, and I still visit the cave to this day. Rest well with Altana, my friend, I'll see you again someday.

Thus began another chapter of my young, tragic life. I wandered into Battalia Downs, attempting to reach Jeuno, yet that land was far from safe. There were Goblins and Orcs there far more powerful than anything I had faced in Jugner Forest, and Sabertooth Tigers that would have no problem with making a meal out of a young, hearty Elvaan. I took refuge in what looked like a cave carved into a hill.

I saw a man there cloaked in black, and he asked with a quiet voice, "What brings you here young son of San 'd Oria?"

"I seek refuge from the tigers and creatures that roam this land," I replied.

He asked, "Do you know this place?" I shook my head no, and his answer terrified me. "This is the Eldieme Necropolis."

He turned to face me, and I saw that this was no living man, he was an undead specter!

"This is the city of the dead." I was absolutely horrified, and was too scared to move. He laughed and said, "Fear not Dratian, I know who you are, and the true reason why you are here. I was a monk of Davoi, laid to rest here after I was killed there 10 years before. My name is Richmont Paravour. I was one of the monks that taught you the ways of the fist."I was in utter disbelief. I had always heard that the undead have no memories of their past life. Again, my preconceived notions of life, and the after-life, were incorrect. I was paying such close attention to the spectre, that I did not notice that I was being surrounded by skeletons and other specters!!

Richmont put his hand on my shoulder and said, "Fear not Dratian, these were also brothers slain at Davoi, and we all have one thing that binds us to this plane. Our pain and anger of what the Orcs have done to our sacred monastery. We can see that you have become strong in the ways of the fist, and we wish to teach you the rest of what we know, so that someday you can achieve your destiny, and allow us to rest with Altana."

I then asked, "What is my destiny?"

A skeleton put his bony hand on my shoulder, and laughed with a laugh that sent chills up my spine. It said, "Young one, what hopes and dreams we had died with us at Davoi that fateful day. Except for one and that one hope and dream stands before us. You are our only hope to avenge us and to once again make Davoi a place of learning and not a place of death."

The skeletons and specters began to glow, and then placed their hands upon me, and I felt a surge of power that was unbelievable!

"We give our remaining essence to you, all of our knowledge of the way of the fist. You will need it on your perilous journey. Go to San d' Oria, continue to train and grow strong, and come back one day with word of your victory, so that we may rest."

At this moment, all the specters and skeletons disappeared save one. This one skeleton approached me, and gave me a pair of patas, also known as fighting fangs.

"Use them well," he said, "I no longer need them. When you become powerful enough to wield this, return here, and I will teach you a secret. Now go young son of San d' Oria, your destiny awaits you in a place filled with life, not this den of death."

With those words the skeleton disappeared, and I heeded the charge of the honored San 'd Orian dead, and made my way to San 'd Oria. I still have those patas to this day, and always keep them at my side.

It was here that I began my time as an adventurer, but that is a story for another time. Later I will tell you of my adventures with the Lady Songbird, and with other adventurer companions that I hold dear. Until then, may your sword be swift.