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Solran's Tale |
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In a dark inn overlooking the ocean, I sat down with Solran who had just returned from a long trip. He was eating a plate of mushrooms and drinking a dark elven wine. It was a deadly meal that he seemed to enjoy on occassion that I dared not touch. I had always heard stories that he had been a dark elf, but had never seen him in this form. The fear in my eyes and the cold chill his face sent down my spine did not deter him from his intended conversaton. Solran always said he had no respect for anyone who could not look into his eyes, and I had to muster all my courage to meet the stare of the dark elven eyes. |
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Solran seemed to be filled with a sense of purpose as he sat across the table. He was the one who asked me to meet him at this inn for dinner. A request he seldom makes for I know him to be one filled only with business. Solran the wise one who had saved our village many times in the past. The next words he spoke made me feel as if a spell had been cast upon me to turn me into a cold stone statue.
"I am going to tell you of Azaroth." |
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"Azaroth was my friend" Solran looked up from his plate of mushrooms to gauge my reaction.
I tried to mask my feeling of horror as I looked back into his eyes. After all, any brave man would tremble at the mention of his name. But Solran's face mellowed and he smiled back at me with the tenderness of a father. |
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Certainly I had stumbled on the quest Solran had given me. But sure enough I had tried with all the courage and strength I could master. But why would Solran seek to threaten me with Azaroth? Azaroth, the tale used by mighty commanders to instill fear into their troops. It figures that the great and might Solran would know him. But I wondered what line I must have crossed to merit this great punishment. Azaroth a god and a friend to the gatekeeper. Azaroth who had sent may a valiant warrior to the depths of the underworld. Azaroth who talks with Charon as an intimate companion. Azaroth who legend says come to claim the cowards who run from battle to deliver them to the dark gods of hell. Azaroth who never died but crossed over the river Styx to join the gatekeeper and bring him the fresh souls of men. |
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"I feel like talking tonight, and I will tell you not of the Azaroth of legend and fable, but the man who was my friend a very long time ago."
He said the night he first met Azaroth was very much like this one. He had ordered his plate of mushrooms and his dark elven brew. Azaroth had been with his companons, but had come over to sit with him and asked if he wanted company.
"He sat down and aske me if he could get me more of what I was eating and drinking. I half expected him to return empty-handed because this meal and drink is so expensive. But he paid for it even though it cost him all he had. He even joined me in having some."
That sounded like the Azaroth of legend to me, someone who could partake of this poisonous meal without harm, but then Solran related to me he only had a taste and was lucky to survive that small bite.
"You are not comfortable seeing me in my true form. But I was just as I am now, and the young fighter joined me and talked, asked no questions, and shared my meal. |
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In the next couple of hours, I learned not about the great warrior who had never died but walked straight into the underworld to the gatekeeper. Not the Azaroth who stole the souls of cowards, but the man who worked in Solran's gem shop when he was not adventuring. He told me how he accidentily slain his friend testing out a ring of great power and how dearly it cost him to have Azaroth resurrected by the priests. But Azaroth had met the gatekeeper, and no longer had any fear. He would entertain friends with tales from Charon, and skewer his enemies telling them to send his greetings to the underworld. He told the tale of Azaroth's friendship and also of his ascent to power in a far eastern empire as the wielder of the great sword. |
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I began to realize why Solran was telling me this story. He had just returned from a great temple where he had lit a candle to the god. The god Solran saw buried in a land covered in mist and shadow. He wanted me to know that legends were made of this. A warrior who gave up his life to live in a kingdom as a farmer with the woman he loved. A father of many children. Azaroth who had made one last trip to the gatekeeper. I realized that from such things are legends made.
Solran seemed to read my mind.
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