Deathslayer: A Return to Damnation

Chapter One - The Fall from Grace

"Faster Marcus!" Styrkar shouted. Marcus was running at full speed through the woods. His heart was beating at two hundred miles an hour. Sweat was pouring down his face and the leather armor which his father had given him was not helping it. He felt sweat crawling under the armor, forming pools because of how tight it was. He had to keep going though, he knew what happened if he disappointed his father.

He turned back for only a second and saw him, the spear in his hands and the hood pulled tightly over his head. "How the hell are you still keeping pace?" He asked between gasps of air. Although Marcus couldn't see his face under his hood he knew that his father would be smiling after a comment like that. "Keep moving, this doesn't need to be how you die," Styrkar shouted behind him.

Styrkar, Marcus's father, was training his son. Training him to do the job that Styrkar hoped he wouldn't be around to do. It was then that Marcus felt the metal tip against his back. Adrenaline kicked in, he quickly propelled himself off of a tree root and grabbed the branch of a tree ahead of him. The branch snapped and in a quick impulse maneuver he threw the stick at his father. Styrkar was surprised by this maneuver and tripped, tossing his spear in the air which Marcus grabbed. He landed back on his feet and put his spear up to his father's throat.

They stood there for a few seconds, the look of surprise on Styrkar's face made the whole workout worth it. Eventually the surprise faded and turned to laughter. Styrkar doubled over laughing so hard and then threw his hand out for his son to catch. Marcus pulled his father up and sat the spear down against a nearby tree.

"That was some damn good footwork, you're a tricky bastard you know that?" Styrkar joked between laughs and moments of shocked disbelief. Marcus's heart was pounding heavily and he felt his muscles weakening by the second. Styrkar finally got it together and looked into his son's eyes. "Tired?" He asked, rhetorically. "Yes- so tired-" Marcus stated as he began examining his father's face. They had just ran several miles non stop with his father wearing much heavier armor mixing cloth and leather with metal chainmail underneath and yet not a drop of sweat could be seen on his father's face. Marcus had no idea how he did it.

"Come on, lets get you home" Styrkar said as he grabbed his spear and patted his son on the back. Marcus weakly nodded as they began to walk back to their old wooden house which Styrkar had built with his own hands. It was on the beach, away from society. When they were hungry they hunted, when they were thirsty they boiled water from the ocean with a fire. They lived a completely nomadic lifestyle. One that they intended to continue as long as the world would allow, which is to say not long.

As soon as he got home Marcus stumbled into his bedroom feeling half dead and collapsed on the bed. He was consumed by his exhaustion, dying of heat and in need of sleep. He soon drifted off to the great dreamer's realm while Styrkar stood in the corner of his room. He watched his son with a smile on his face. Knowing that he did well, knowing that he was truly worthy of being the son of the Deathslayer. He then walked out of the house and went to the edge of the forest, crouching down and holding his spear to the side.

He stood there, still as a rock for hours. Waiting, and waiting, waiting some more. Finally there was a hint of movement, his eyes darted to it. A deer had brushed the edges of the woods. He quickly reared his spear back and threw it with all his might. A rope tied to the end of the spear allowed him to catch the deer after he had stabbed it directly in the ass.

The wild beast kicked for a few moments but didn't have the strength to fight back against Styrkar's pull. It kicked and thrashed, doing whatever it could to get away but Styrkar wasn't letting go. He had plenty of anger to unleash and the poor creature which was in the wrong place at the wrong time was about to feel his wrath. The deer eventually stumbled back towards Styrkar, startled by his presence. Styrkar reached for his belt and unsheathed his sword, raising it high in the air and bringing it down on the poor defenseless creature's neck. He severed the flesh, but the head didn't come off even as the creature yelped in pain. So he brought the sword down again, and finally the head fell apart from the body and the creature fell silent. A few hours later, dinner was served.