Brendan DePiercy,
Fifth son of Stuart DePiercy I
Being
born into nobility was more of a curse than a blessing for Brendan,
curious and free-spirited the duties and responsibilities thrust upon
him as birthright chaffed uncomfortably. His childhood was supposed
to be filled with a formal education, that of a squire that all
nobility must endure. While he took well to lessons of history and
swordplay he truanted much of the rest at every opportunity, earning
his fathers unending ire, opting instead to roam and explore the
lands around his home. East to Caulders Ridge and in and around the
nameless woods that lie around the Deepspire first, exploring along
the ancient wall, close to home and safety.
At
the age of fourteen, emboldened by his success and experiences
Brendan first delved into the ancient darkness of Willows Deep,
naively oblivious to the doom within. Though young his skills at
tracking and wood craft were well honed with use, he could tell the
time from the sun, anticipate the weather and keep track of his
direction without fail.
But
Willows Deep is more than mear foliage and flora, each limb and bough
of every tree is cursed and heavy with hatred and deceit. The air is
thick and cloying with sickly sweet smells. Little sunlight reaches
the forest floor, and what does is weak and tinted. Worse, shadows
move across the trees, confusing the eye. Against such malevolence
Bren stood no chance and within hours he was hopelessly lost. He was
however, well supplied, hunger and thirst were no issue for all the
good that did him.
Tired
and betrayed by his own arrogance he paused, slumped against a
boulder and lamented his misfortune by angrily throwing rocks and
sticks about, thus learning his first valuable lesson; do not disturb
the deep.
His
racket attracted a predator from the gloom, no wolf, nor foul spawn,
but a dire spider, fully eight feet tall and double that in stride
from foreleg to back. Normally not a roamer, it had recently been
forced from it's den by something bigger and meaner than itself.
Several half healed scars covered its armoured carapace, a deep
orange against it's darker brown coat. Pissed and hungry, finding
Brendan tired and alone was it's first boon in weeks. Silently it
stalked in.
Pulling
itself in closer and closer.
Brendan
was oblivious.
Up
the boulder the spider crept behind him.
Gloom
from gloom, a dappled shadow amongst shadows, Brendan De'Piercy's
tale could have ended there had the creature not misplaced one of its
many legs, pushing over a rotted stump and inadvertadley warning it's
meal at the last second.
With
a terrified yell Bren all but lept from the boulder, spinning and
unsheathing a knife as he went. Forward the spider lunged and blade
met mandible, the former shearing through the latter. The beast
recoiled for but a moment but it was enough for Bren to turn and run.
His flight was aimless at first, panicked and chilled with mortal
terror he fled blindly, relentlessly dogged by his predator who would
not give up it's first meal in weeks. Minutes stretched into hours
and hours stretched longer, for three days and three nights Brendan
was pursued. Sometimes at a mad dash, sometimes he lost sight of the
thing for hours, though he could feel it watching. Waiting.
Tralda
finally smiled upon him though and without warning he broke through
the limbs of a tree to find himself standing out in the open green,
the sun shining around him. Glancing back he saw the monster,
unwilling or unable to cross into the light, eight eyes glared
balefully at him as it's right mandible gnashed against the stump of
it's left. With a final clicking screech it turned and faded back
into hell, back into home.
Getting
his bearings Brendan found he had come west, into the open grasslands
east of Carlech. Staggering for forty paces or so he slumped to the
ground, exhausted, and slept.
