Saris Pantera Imagine if you will, a most idyllic setting. A small, isolated village of thatch roofed homes, walls chinked with mud to keep out the wind. Each residence had a garden filled with vegetables and flowers, while old shade trees provided sanctuary from summer heat. The homes seemed to gather around a huge central well and this was the preferred place for exchanging news and gossip as water was drawn.

The surrounding landscape was a patchwork of tan colored grain fields ready to be reaped...bright green grazing lands dotted with clusters and lines of tall deciduous trees. Low stone walls and wooden split rails lying in the crotch of other rails that form Xs created barriers for the livestock. Cattle, sheep, swine and goats were plentiful in these lush green pastures. Horses mingled with the rest before and after the completion of each work day.

A fresh water stream, wide enough in some places to qualify as a river, ran near the village. It was here that livestock was watered, women brought clothing to wash and children played. Even adults had been known to seek the cool waters during the zenith of the hot season. Community picnics were held by this strip of water, under the canopy of trees that grew near its banks. Many a young couple had strolled arm in arm along the stream's pathway with only heaven's light to guide their footsteps.

This was a village in which everyone worked in cooperation with all. It was akin to an extended family. Children were raised and as adults, most remained to find love and repeat the lives of their parents. Women took care of the homes, their children and their husbands. Husbands took care of the crops, the livestock, supplying food and their families. It was an uncomplicated, simple life. The people of the village were equally as uncomplicated and simple. They took joy in life and faced adversity with stalwart attitudes. This was a happy village. This was the village of Brindley and this is the story of Saris Pantera.

The year was 1670. A child was about to be born, the woman's third and due to complications, her last. It was a happy time. The baby, a boy, was born healthy. His parents were loving, his siblings waited for the time when he would be old enough to torment as only siblings can. He had a sister age three and a brother age six. Life went on and Saris learned many things. His father taught him about the land and animals. His mother taught him to cook and sew, things she believed a man needed to know. His siblings taught him tolerance. As Saris grew into a long limbed youth his personality developed and stabilized. Calm, humorous, responsible, hard working and good-natured would best describe him. Rarely had he known a moment of anger and never had he known hate.

In 1684 he turned fourteen and met Falene. She was one year his junior and she was a budding beauty. Falene was not the most lovely girl in the village but Saris would never see that. To him she was everything. Innocent play turned to puppy love and puppy love to real love. He fell hard and fell completely. There was never any question in the villagers' minds that they would marry. When Saris turned seventeen and Falene sixteen, marry they did. It was a grand celebration. A hog was slaughtered and roasted over an open pit under the canopy of trees by the wide section of the stream. Garlands of flowers were strung overhead and a flower arbor constructed under which the bride and groom began their life as husband and wife. Like the village, like the villagers, like them...their vows were simple. Dual pledges to cleave only to one another, to protect, to cherish, to honor and obey through all stages of life. Simple gold rings exchanged but rings that changed their lives. The celebration lasted well into the next day and only came to an end when the couple was escorted to their new home. Carried on the shoulders of the men while being covered with flower petals thrown by women and children were they delivered. Placed on their feet Saris scooped Falene into his arms and stepped over the threshold to the cheers of their families and friends.

Their wedding night was a fumbling affair as neither knew of the physical intimacies between a man and a woman. But it was a delightful adventure for them both and one they repeated over and over with growing finesse.

Their family was destined to begin early. Falene became pregnant on their wedding night. At ages eighteen and seventeen they became parents. The midwife in attendance had to ask some of the men to remove Saris as his wife's cries had him at the brink of panic. He was becoming a nuisance. After hours of labor it quieted and a new voice rose to loudly greet the sunny day. Their son, Trae, was born. Saris cried when he held him.

Life went on and couldn't have been any more perfect. At twenty Saris had matured into a solid man. He was a wonderful father and a considerate, loving husband. The love between Saris and Falene blossomed. Her love for him and their son shone in her blue eyes and bright smile. Their life together was filled with peace and happiness. They lived for one another and knew that never again would there be any who could complete them as they completed each other. Unbeknownst to both, their lives were about to change.

In the distance, to both the east and the west of the village, stood two castles. The respective Lords had for months been arguing about upon which Lords lands the village lie. Diplomacy finally broke down as patience wore thin and tempers flared. An unbreakable impasse had been reached. The western Lord was a much kinder man than his opposition. Brindley would have best been served falling to his control. The eastern Lord had no desire to share the village and rallied his soldiers. If Brindley would not revert to him...then it would cease to exist.

The day was warm. Song birds woke the villagers to start their day. Falene, her belly slightly rounded with their second child sent Saris off with a belly full of breakfast, lunch in a sack and a tender kiss. "Stew for supper and ye make sure ye clean anything ye find in those traps before ye bring it to me." Her admonishment was based on her reaction to last weeks bounty. In her state the rabbits turned her stomach and she spent more time than she cared to hugging the bucket. Being the dutiful husband, Saris held back her long, dark locks so they didn't dangle in her upheaval. He laughed at her and swatted her backside at the finish of her gentle berating. Picking up Trae he twirled the boy in the air and soundly kissed his cheek. "I shant let ye see anything I bring back and shall give ye fair warning of my arrival so ye can hide yer eyes." Trae giggled and after being returned to the floor used his father's pants leg as handholds by which he pulled himself to a wobbly, but upright position.

And so it was that Saris left his home in good spirits, whistling as he hiked into the wood to empty the snare traps of whatever type of creature was unfortunate enough to have become captive. He would not be expected to return until sundown as the distance took hours to walk. It was at the halfway mark, returning home, that he cleared the trees and stepped into the meadow. That was when his life changed. That was when he saw the smoke rising high into the air and over the line of woods separating him from the village...from his home. Fire! A large fire! It was as if the entire village was in flames. Adrenaline shot through him. Heart racing, the metallic taste of fear in his mouth he dropped his catch and ran.

Heedless of the branches that whipped him, the brambles that snatched at his flesh and clothing, he raced as fast as his legs would carry him. He raced home. Lungs aflame, the stitch in his side burning he was forced to slow to a jog. Once he was able to breath again he started to run. The acrid smell of the smoke now in his nose...the smell like burning hay and charred meat. It was the livestock he saw first. Dozens of animals lay dead, others ran in a panic from the fire. Cresting the rise from the river bank he gasped and fell flat. Lifting his head he saw the fires first...each and every home burned. Scrambling to his feet he ran forward. Closer now he saw the bodies and went weak in the knees. Outside the home of his parents he found them. His father's body atop his mother's...both skewered to the ground with a pike. Stunned, he dropped to his knees and touched them. Both were dead, his father obviously tried to shield his mother with his body. A dry sob leapt from his lips. Rising he stumbled on unsure legs, head slowly turning left and right...unable to believe what he saw. Everywhere bodies. Friends, his brother and his family...dead. His sister too. Neighbors...people like family to him. His head snapped up, eyes wide. "Faaaaleeene!" Running again, he dodged flames and bodies until he neared his own home. The roof was in flames, bits of burning thatch falling into the dwelling. Saris stopped and stared. His heart threatened to burst from his chest and he seemed unable to breathe. A tiny leg stuck out over the threshold of a door that lay flat on the floor. Tears ran freely down his face as, with leaden steps, he made his way forward. The small body, a large rock where the little head should be...his legs buckled. A trembling hand reached out, fingertips grazed the small lifeless hand. "Noooo...nooooo....Trae...please...noooo..." His voice soft, choked with pain...keening. After a few minutes he looked around the room. Fearfully he quietly called out...knowing in his heart there would be no answer. "Falene?" Getting to his feet he swallowed the bile that washed into the back of his throat and stumbled into the room, heading toward the curtained doorway leading to their sleeping quarters. "F...Falene? Please, please God..." The curtain moved as the flames consumed the roof and it crashed inward to land in a shower of sparks between him and the other room. "FALENE!" The fire brought him out of his stupor and he lunged forward, through the flaming thatch to rip the now burning curtain from its place.

His jaw dropped and he took a step back then froze. Only his grip on either side of the door frame kept him upright. His wife, his life...lay on her back, eyes open and staring at the remains of the ceiling. Legs lewdly splayed, the blood from the apex of her thighs screamed at him of what she had endured. He saw the bruises that would never fade on her arms...bruises from where she'd been held down. Her simple dress was shredded so that instead of covering her it lay only beneath her. His body began to tremble, fingernails dug into the wood and knuckles went white. Face contorted with emotion, with the intensity of the pain that torn him apart, he gawked. It was a pain unlike anything he had ever felt or would ever feel again. His eyes were the only thing that moved as he stared at the long sword that penetrated her and their bed. It was then that the thatch covering their room collapsed and fell atop her. Galvanized into action he launched himself into the room. "FALENE!" Pawing at the burning grasses he brushed it off her and only then realized the walls were burning. Hysterically sobbing he grasped the hilt of the sword in both hands, squeezed his eyes shut and pulled it free. The sound it made would be forever etched in his memory. Flinging the sword away it flew out the window to thud to the ground outside. Gathering her in his arms he made his exit only to collapse a few yards from the house. Legs folded under him he held her across his lap. Arms that used to wrap around his neck before their lips touched limply dangled. He rocked her, brushed her hair from her face as her dead gaze stared through him. "Nooo...ohgodnoooo...Falene...please...not Falene." A river of tears fell as he pressed his cheek to hers. Crooning, pleading, he whispered, "Don't be dead...I love you...Falene you are my heart..." Lifting his head he stared at the heavens and railed at God. "WHY?! WHY DID YE ALLOW THIS?!!" Eyes closed, head back, throat taut he howled his agony..."FAAALEEENE!!!!!" He crumbled, buried his face in her hair and inconsolably wept.

It took him four days and nights to bury the dead. Instead of burying each individually or in a single mass grave he buried families together. Family graves. A transformation occurred with each shovelful of earth. He learned the meaning of hate and learned it well. Each family was listed on a cross. Each name, the name of someone he loved. Each time the shovel bit into the ground, each time he chiseled a name into a wooden cross...hate grew and his heart hardened. When it was done it began to rain. Saris stood alone, surrounded only by mounds of earth, charred rubble and the few wandering animals that escaped the sword. Rain pelted the earth and ran down his face as his hair plastered to his head. Again he looked skyward and addressed his maker. "Vengeance is mine said the Lord." His fist raised toward the heavens, shaking as his vow thundered. "NOT ANYMORE!" Walking back to what used to be his home he stepped on something and looked down. It was the sword that killed his wife. What better means of extracting vengeance on those who defiled and took her life than to use the very same weapon. Sword in hand he caught one of the few remaining horses and began his quest.

A fortnight later he entered Shankmore, a village miles south of Brindley. The tavern was full of rowdies. He could hear the raucous noise before he spied the building. Tying the horse to a nearby tree he took the sword and entered the tavern. Shoving and pushing his way through the throng of unwashed humanity he found an empty chair and stood upon it. In both hands he lifted the sword well over his head. "I HAVE FOUND A WEAPON! DOES IT BELONG TO ANY HERE?" Voices quieted and heads turned his way. One man spoke up. "Aye! Tis my blade ye 'ave there!" Saris jumped to the floor and the crowd parted to allow him passage to the weapon's owner. The smile on Saris' face was beguiling. "Then allow me to return it..." The thrust was unexpected, the blade entered the man's abdomen just as it had Falene's. "...SIR!" A communal gasp went up, drowning out the man's own. Saris stared at the man as he dropped to his knees, fingers clutching the shaft of the blade. Quietly his voice broke the shocked silence. "That is for my family...for my wife." His gaze was impassive as he watched the man die. In moments the dying man's friends shook off their shock and a fight ensued. A fight in which there was no way for Saris to win...and he didn't. Fists pummeled him until he dropped to the floor then booted feet kicked and stomped him. That's when the man in the corner stepped forward and raised his hand. "CEASE!" The men backed away, leaving Saris unconscious and bleeding. "Leave these premises now if continued good health tis what ye seek." In moments the tavern was empty save for the tender and serving wenches. The man turned to the tender. "Fetch me a wagon and many blankets to cushion this young man's ride. I want him at my castle immediately." Not another word and the man left.

This was how Saris met Lord Einrhik Von Bricken. At Castle Von Bricken, Saris was nursed back to health. It was a long and arduous process to be sure for his injuries were grave. It wasn't only the physical injuries that plagued him, but emotional ones as well. Despondent and in a deep depression over the death of all he loved, his physical wounds seemed to take forever to heal. But heal they did and his benefactor knew what he had to do to put Saris on the right path...the path he needed to walk as a man. Seeing Saris as the son he never had, Lord Von Bricken took him under his wing and became his mentor.

It was Lord Von Bricken who taught Saris to read and write. It was a means to not only educate the young man, but also to get his mind on something other than the tragedy in his life. The long months of healing and rehabilitation passed with lesson after lesson. Von Bricken was pleased to find his student to be intelligent and quick to learn. Once Saris' physical healing was complete, Lord Von Bricken taught him to fight. The kind of beating Saris took at the tavern would be hard to repeat once Von Bricken taught his new son all he knew. In the two years that Saris apprenticed under Von Bricken, he learned how to harness his hate to his own benefit. He learned to fight on horseback and on foot. Staff, sword, pike, mace...it mattered not what the weapon, for under the watchful eye of his mentor Saris mastered all. In addition to conventional weapons, he learned how to make use of whatever was available during hand to hand combat. In the beginning, Saris found himself on the ground more often than not, but that soon changed. He learned quickly and forgot none of his teachings. In return, Von Bricken insisted Saris tell him of that most fateful day and of his life before. He made him repeat it time and time again. He made him repeat it until no longer did the telling bring him to tears. It was then, that the Lord knew Saris was both mentally and physically ready to leave his tutelage.

The day he left Lord Von Bricken presented Saris with the sword he had used that night in the tavern. "This blade killed yer wife Saris. It is destined to avenge her...as are ye." Saris felt as if he were leaving his father as he mounted his steed. He stretched out his arm toward the man who saved him and Von Bricken took it. Strong fingers clasped forearms, silently bespeaking the bond between the two men. "Godspeed Saris. Return to me when yer quest is over." There was no doubt in Von Bricken's mind that Saris would succeed. The mounted man nodded. "I shall, my Lord." As Saris rode away he mulled over Von Bricken's last piece of advice. "Do not close off yer heart to love for the rest of yer life, Saris. Live...Falene would have wanted ye to be happy."

For months he rode, searched and when the quarry was located, shed blood. During this time, he developed an uncanny relationship with his horse. It was as if Zenith could understand not only his words, but his moods and intentions as well. It was because of the animal's understanding that Saris was unceremoniously dumped into the lap of a woman he'd just met. They sat on the steps leading to a local tavern and talked. Later that night, as Saris returned to his rented room, he realized how lonely he'd been. That woman, with her throaty voice and strange scent stuck with him.

The woman haunted him. On more than one occasion, while covering the distance between villages, he found himself lost in mental imaginings of her. She was in his thoughts both day and night. Saris kept returning to her village, using the town as a sort of home base. He took every opportunity to spend time with her. It was after one of those visits that Von Bricken's parting words came back to him. "Do not close off yer heart to love for the rest of yer life, Saris. Live...Falene would have wanted ye to be happy." His mentor was right...Falene would have wanted him to be happy...and Aby made him very happy. And so it came to be that Saris was once again someone's husband. Abysinia Hearne became his wife. Let the games begin.

All artwork compliments of Fortin and Sanders at the link below:

All these writings are original works and copyrighted. The characters depicted are fictional and are for roleplaying purposes only.