Legends of Belariath
Firak
Firak was born as a normal man of the spirit tribe, nothing particularly stunning or spectacular about him. He had a brother who was older by two years, and a mother and father. They composed a normal family of the tribe.
He had a mother, father, and a brother. His brother was two years older than him, but they were very close. They were a very typical family of the spirit tribe, mediocre status and honor. They were an ideal family, completely normal with nothing out of the ordinary.
But life was not meant to be so pleasant for them. Fate decided to extend its cruel hand to forever taint the lives of the family.
A warm summer night was passing just as countless others had passed before it. It was Firak and his family’s turn to sleep on the furthest outreach of the tribal settlement, to keep watch. They had done this countless times before, and they expected a long boring night just as every other. They were rudely surprised with the events of the evening.
Before you hear about their capture, perhaps you should know a little about the capturers.
The clan Vae Victis is a bit odd. Instead of the normal male dominated society, the Vae Victans are run by a group of cold blooded females. A queen tops their ranks, and is every bit as cruel and mean as her followers. All males of the clan are slaves, along with a variety of captured slaves. Any captured female is also forced to be a slave. The women of Vae Victis run a gladiator arena, forcing slaves to fight to the death with each other.
So as Firak’s family kept silent watch, they were ambushed by several of the more powerful Vae Victans. A few sleep spells later and the family was incapacitated. The little 12 year old Firak found himself bound and gagged for the first time in his life, carried by a strange woman to a strange place.
As the family awoke in separate places, they quickly learned that they were now slaves to the whims of the Vae Victans. Though no collars adorned their necks, they were without a will of their own. They survived a brutal existence, rarely seeing each other. Firak’s brother was released to deliver a message to his old tribe, and was never again seen. Firak’s mother and father were both pleasure slaves, passed from woman to woman for their idle amusement. Young Firak was forced into physical training to become a gladiator for the private amusement of the cruel clan.
He was trained to fight, and forced to keep his body in extreme condition. His learning was centered around causing pain, not killing. He was there to put on a show, not to kill. They taught him to use various weapons to create walking fountains of blood. He learned the fine art of coaxing bloodcurdling screams from his opponent as he inflicts non-vital wounds. He became a killing machine, and excelled at his work. The Vae Victans retained their control over him by threatening to kill his parents, otherwise he would have long since escaped.
Years passed, Firak grew older and fought more and more foes.
Another warm summer night passed, and yet again Firak’s life would be completely reversed. The queen of the Vae Victans was in a particularly volatile mood tonight. His parents were the ones unlucky enough to be attending to her, and she sought to make an example of them. She had Firak come watch as she murdered them both on a whim. After Firak did not show any emotion at all, his years of a gladiator draining him of it, the queen became quite enraged. He was sent tumbling into a darkened cage with a passageway that lead down into the dungeons of the Vae Victan stronghold.
The various upper levels of the clan lined the outside of the cage, watching him. He could hear heavy breathing from within the dungeon, and the padding of some large animal as it came up to see what the commotion was about. Firak looked towards the dungeon, his then red eyes both opening wide as a large lion entered the cage. It eyed him, and he eyed it. He knew that he was going to die, for no man could go against such a beast and live.
The battle between Firak and the Lion was very short, and very one sided. The first attack by the lion left the wicked scar that remains on Firak’s face today, the only real strike of the fight. The first was also almost the last for poor Firak, for it ripped his face up very badly. The lion batted him around, toying with him a bit before it went in for the killing blow. Firak was careful, and conserved his energy. When the lion grew tired of it’s game and moved to bite his neck, he punched the beast in the nose with all his strength. The lion was not hurt, but merely stunned. Stunned long enough for Firak to climb onto it’s back like a bull rider.
The lion ran back into the dungeon bearing Firak, not realizing what had happened. It slowly realized what was on it’s back, and attempted to kill him by driving him against a low ceiling. Luckily for Firak, the low ceiling was also the one ladder leading to the outside. He climbed the ladder and escaped from the clutches of the Vae Victans and their cruel beasts. His time was limited though, unless he found a healer soon he would die of the mortal wound inflicted by the lion’s talon.
He ran from the Vae Victans land, knowing that there would be no healers in that land to help him. He plunged into the forest, near their land, hoping to find someone.. anyone.. On and on he ran, till finally he could run no more. He was running one moment, then found himself lying on his back the next. Then darkness swirled in to take him, and he know no more.
Some time later he awoke in a soft bed, alone in a room. He raises his hand to his face, and felt a long smooth place where a scar was left. His new eye could see, giving him his full vision again. A few moments after awaking, his was joined by an older woman whom is obviously a slave. She spoke little with him, and sent him on his way with a pack of food and a direction in mind. She was a slave and he was a risk to her. If her master found him, he would kill her without a second thought.
So off Firak plunged into the forest, traveling for many weeks. Eventually he came upon the Lonely Inn, and from there, his history is common knowledge.